while later, Cara paid a toll at the Rickenbacker Causeway and drove along a tall bridge toward the Atlantic Ocean. Eventually, she parked her car on a small island overlooking Biscayne Bay and downtown Miami—the city lit up with countless bright windows. It was the reflections in the bay that she wanted to see most. Blue lights seemed to have a reddish tint in the water. Purples became green. Waves caused striped reflections to squiggle with interesting patterns. Some of the patterns reminded her of Matt’s eyes, which had taunted her all evening. She searched for the exact colors and shapes, but the water was ever changing, defying her meager longings.
No one wants to see a man cry. She could still hear his voice echoing in her mind. If only she had responded with something clever. I know all about crying—I’ll cry with you—we can cry together until the sun comes up...Oh—I’m such a drama queen—he would think I was just as nuts as Sheryl. He’s a guy—I’d scare him away with such talk. I’ll be checking up on you online? My God, I can’t believe I said that. I sound like a crazed stalker. I am a crazed stalker...
...
On the edifice of the strip mall were bright green neon letters, powerful enough to compete with the afternoon sunlight. Another sign hung on a white curtained window: OPEN, in red letters inside a blue swirl. Oh—Cookie Ben’s, Alex salivated at the sight.
In the dark glass of the door he saw a perfect reflection of the parking lot, and then of himself. He tried to minimize the disappointment of seeing his XXL t-shirt being stretched tight by his flaccid midsection.
In Alex’s mind, Cookie Benito’s Deli and Sub Shop was the proverbial whore of Babylon. It seemed that the aroma had led him here from miles away on a boring Sunday afternoon. So great were her powers that Alex eyed the stainless steel appliances, wishing he could touch them—get close enough to breath in whatever essence caused the harlot to speak, to advertise for a good ol’ time.
A man in a white shirt and black apron looked at Alex through droopy eyelids. Was he tired or impatient or perhaps judging Alex for his frequent visits? He saw Alex looking back at him and averted his eyes, shaking a cleaver in a water container. “What can I get you today?”
“Um—I’ll have the double meatball—with bacon—fifteen inch sub with extra provolone cheese—and onions and mushrooms.”
“Sauté the mushrooms and onions, right?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The man threw the mushrooms and onions on a large griddle before starting the sandwich. Alex was torn between hunger and self-loathing. He had promised himself that he would diet today—and he did, but eating small amounts of food all morning had driven his appetite to a lustful, unmanageable level. Eat half now, half for dinner—yeah that’s what I’ll do—it’s a big sub—half will fill me. The scent of provolone made his mouth water. Saucy, steamy meatballs were sprawled out on bread without the tenderness required for such high art. It was all so cheap, degrading, and yet awe-inspiring.
“What would you like on that?”
“Lettuce-pickle-tomatoes-green pepper-olives—um—salt-pepper-oil and vinegar...”
What am I doing? I wonder how many calories are in this thing.
Alex nervously lifted his phone and texted his favorite toll-free mobile answers service: How many calories in a meatball sub?
Onions and mushrooms softly fell on the lush, succulent feast, which he could no longer look
No one wants to see a man cry. She could still hear his voice echoing in her mind. If only she had responded with something clever. I know all about crying—I’ll cry with you—we can cry together until the sun comes up...Oh—I’m such a drama queen—he would think I was just as nuts as Sheryl. He’s a guy—I’d scare him away with such talk. I’ll be checking up on you online? My God, I can’t believe I said that. I sound like a crazed stalker. I am a crazed stalker...
...
On the edifice of the strip mall were bright green neon letters, powerful enough to compete with the afternoon sunlight. Another sign hung on a white curtained window: OPEN, in red letters inside a blue swirl. Oh—Cookie Ben’s, Alex salivated at the sight.
In the dark glass of the door he saw a perfect reflection of the parking lot, and then of himself. He tried to minimize the disappointment of seeing his XXL t-shirt being stretched tight by his flaccid midsection.
In Alex’s mind, Cookie Benito’s Deli and Sub Shop was the proverbial whore of Babylon. It seemed that the aroma had led him here from miles away on a boring Sunday afternoon. So great were her powers that Alex eyed the stainless steel appliances, wishing he could touch them—get close enough to breath in whatever essence caused the harlot to speak, to advertise for a good ol’ time.
A man in a white shirt and black apron looked at Alex through droopy eyelids. Was he tired or impatient or perhaps judging Alex for his frequent visits? He saw Alex looking back at him and averted his eyes, shaking a cleaver in a water container. “What can I get you today?”
“Um—I’ll have the double meatball—with bacon—fifteen inch sub with extra provolone cheese—and onions and mushrooms.”
“Sauté the mushrooms and onions, right?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The man threw the mushrooms and onions on a large griddle before starting the sandwich. Alex was torn between hunger and self-loathing. He had promised himself that he would diet today—and he did, but eating small amounts of food all morning had driven his appetite to a lustful, unmanageable level. Eat half now, half for dinner—yeah that’s what I’ll do—it’s a big sub—half will fill me. The scent of provolone made his mouth water. Saucy, steamy meatballs were sprawled out on bread without the tenderness required for such high art. It was all so cheap, degrading, and yet awe-inspiring.
“What would you like on that?”
“Lettuce-pickle-tomatoes-green pepper-olives—um—salt-pepper-oil and vinegar...”
What am I doing? I wonder how many calories are in this thing.
Alex nervously lifted his phone and texted his favorite toll-free mobile answers service: How many calories in a meatball sub?
Onions and mushrooms softly fell on the lush, succulent feast, which he could no longer look
Similar Books
