Page 46 of Finding Parker

“Peach.”

“Peach.”

“Peach it is,” the waiter said as he pulled the menus from Kenton’s grasp.

“Have you tried the octopus here?” Kenton asked as the waiter walked away.

“I have not. Actually, I’ve never eaten here.”

“They’re simply marvelous. They’ll all be tiny, fried up and served on a plate. Like a family. They’re the babies, I guess. The bodies range in size from about the size of a nickel to the size of a quarter. And the legs are like pieces of twine. They cook them whole here. They’re considerably more tasteful than the chopped up pieces, which I refuse to eat. I’ve never known why, but I don’t like thinking about eating their tentacles alone. It reminds me of eating an arm. For the same reason, I won’t eat a chicken leg. The thought of it seems savage. But I have no concerns eating their arms as long as they’re attached to their bodies. Go figure,” he laughed.

“Maybe it’s about sacrifice and commitment,” I responded.

“How so,” he asked.

“Well, if you have a chicken leg or a chopped up octopus tentacle on a plate, you really don’t know about what happened to or with the rest of the animal. It could have been a torturous affair, the removal of its limb. But, if the entire animal is on the plate, even though it didn’t have a say in the matter, it’s all there. It’s as if the octopus committed itself to you, entirely. It made the sacrifice to be served as a meal,” I nodded my head, satisfied I had made the point I intended to.

“Sacrifice, I like that. I’d say you may have something there, Parker. I like how your mind works. You’re a thinker,” he chuckled.

As Kenton laughed, the waiter arrived with a tray containing our entire order. As he lowered the tray to the elevation of the table, Kenton tilted his head toward the waiter.

“Well, that was fast,” Kenton said, “I was afraid I would expire from this cough before you returned.”

“We’re always fast at lunch time, sir. Maybe not to take the order, but to prepare it, yes,” he began to place the food and beverages on the table as he spoke.

“Anything else?” the waiter asked.

“No thank you,” Kenton responded.

Kenton quickly took a drink of tea and cleared his throat. In looking down at the octopus, Kenton’s facial expression turned to one of disgust. As he studied the plate, he slid it to the side and pulled the plate of fish in front of him.

“For some reason, I can’t do it today. It’s too much a reminder of the entire death thing. I’m becoming a softie, Parker,” he said as he shook his head lightly.

I slid the platter of octopus across the table until it was positioned directly in front of me.

“I ordered them, and I’m going to eat them. I know they didn’t run out and catch them solely to prepare my meal, but it’s just…well, I don’t want these little fellows to have made the ultimate sacrifice for nothing. I think we all die for a reason, and they died so we can eat them, there’s no other reason I can really think of. If I eat them, it’s completes the cycle, and they’ve died for a reason. If not, their death was meaningless. And I believe everything happens for a reason, including death. Sometimes it’s difficult to interpret, but with these little guys, at least I understand why,” I chuckled as I picked one of the fried delicacies from the plate and plopped it into my mouth.

“Here’s to not dying a meaningless death,” Kenton laughed as he pulled the plate of fried octopus in front of the fish.

And, although we had been laughing over the death of a fried octopus, something about the lunch with Kenton gave me hope. Hope that Victoria’s mother had not died without there being some form of greater reason, one I was currently incapable of seeing. I realize life isn’t always for me to understand, but I do feel a responsibility to regularly practice acceptance.

“You know, they say when you drop a lobster into a pot of boiling water, they scream. You think these little guys suffered, Parker?” Kenton laughed as he picked one from the plate.

“Absolutely not,” I responded as I picked a perfectly sized one from the plate.

And at that particular moment, it made sense – perfect sense – at least to me.

Suffering.

Victoria’s mother was no longer going to suffer, nor was Victoria. They were both now free of their bindings. Her mother had, in a sense, beaten her drug addiction and was no longer in agony. And Victoria should be able live with the comfort knowing she cared for her mother until her death. Satisfied, I looked down at the last octopus lying on my plate.

“Here’s to understanding why,” I said as I lifted it from the plate.

“Amen,” Kenton nodded.

The suffering has ended.

Amen.