“It’s a matter of convenience and common sense. If everybody
went to church on Saturday morning it would cut down on sin. Think about
it, you couldn’t stay out drinking on Friday nights ‘cause you
gotta get up early for church, and Saturday night is out because you’re
still full of the Holy Spirit and wouldn’t be in the right frame of
mind. Between getting ready for church, and feeling righteous after, there’s
no time for drinking or chasing women.” Tom was on a roll.
“I
don’t go to church, but I suppose there’s merit to that. Where
is this place anyway? Are we getting close?” He was desperate to change
the subject. It was the second of five training days, and this was wearing
thin already. He was having trouble focusing on what Tom was saying without
reaching out and smacking the back of his head. “Two more blocks.
Anyway, by the time Sunday rolls around who wants to get up early? Turn
left here, May’s Steak.”
The car pulled into the lot and lucked into a spot by the front entrance.
As the lunch din washed over them, the hostess greeted them with all
the sincerity of a game show host.
They were sitting in the booth across the aisle, not speaking to one
another but comfortable in their silence. She was African-American, about
mid-thirties he guessed, but it was hard to estimate with any degree of
accuracy. The man’s age was easier to pin down, early fifties, dressed
in khakis and a short sleeve plaid shirt, Hereford cap pulled low over
his eyes. As he watched them eat, he had the strangest sense that he had
witnessed this scene before. Not déjà vu exactly, but a
sense of familiarity, like running into college acquaintances long after
graduation.
“Are you guys ready to order?” The intrusion broke his concentration,
and as he turned his attention to the waitress the feeling began to fade.
He went through the usual vegetarian dance, made even more ludicrous by
the fact that he was in a steak house.
Orders in hand, the waitress lumbered off leaving Jim at the mercy of
Tom’s philosophies.
“See, the Bible says on the 7th day God rested. It never says that
the 7th day is Sunday.”
The only good thing about Tom was the fact that he was perfectly happy
to express himself without you listening to him. As the sound of Tom’s
voice began to fade to a dull buzz in his head, Jim’s attention
was drawn back to the couple in the booth. Robert (Jim had unknowingly
attached a name to him) had an angular face, heavy-joweled with a slightly
hooked nose. His companion (Jim had named her Amano though he had no idea
why) had the round face and flat nose of recent African descent. He wondered
how many generations removed she was from her original home, and even
as he wondered that he was amazed at what an odd thought it was. The whole
scene was beginning to worm its way into his subconscious in a slightly
uncomfortable way. He couldn’t stop the flow of curious questions
that were flowing through him – who were they – why were such
disparate people enjoying an air of intimacy – why was Robert wearing
that ridiculous hat?
Yoda Man!
Love
“Everything I’ve ever cared about has left me.”
“That can’t be true…”
“Oh yeah? What about Fluffy?”
“Fluffy got hit by a car.”
“Yeah, because she was leaving me.”
“She was 17 years old, stone deaf and you left the gate open.”
“Still ….. what about Beth?”
“You never really dated Beth….”
“Yes I did!”
“She was gay, you moron.”
“But we went to dinner…”
“Once, and only because you said you’d introduce her to
me. I’ll get you for that, by the way.”
“Even my banana tree left me.”
“Huh?”
“Remember when I was in 6th grade? The banana tree I planted
for a school project? It shot runners under the neighbor’s fence,
sprouted in their yard and then died on our side of the fence. It
ran away from home!”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one."
