You and I are at the table at the restaurant when the new girl calls you.
"I'm sorry. I've got to take this - you know, to make plans."
I listen to you ask polite questions about her week. I push my food around my plate. Take another bite.
"Sounds like you had a pretty good time. What time did you get home?"
He pauses, smiling, looking at me absently.
"Oh", he laughs. "So your cats were getting you back?"
'Cats', I mouthed at him, eyebrows raised. I couldn't help myself.
'Stop', he mouthed back in mock anger, shoving me lightly at the shoulder.
I smiled at our private joke but then realized he'd moved on with the conversation and I was alone at the table again.
I looked out the window at the families and their dogs and the Saturday afternoon traffic.
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4 comments:
Right. You. At the risk of starting some sort of dreadful Mutual Appreciation Society, I really must insist that you stop being quite so superb.
Some of us have to try quite hard at this writing stuff.
I know I've mentioned Carver before, but this sort of 'less-is-more' approach to language is terribly effective.
And we've all been in that restaurant, in one way or another. But I suspect few of us have been able to articulate the bitter-sweetness of the situation as well as you.
Stop it.
Hey TD - thanks so much.
Carver really was a genius. Trying to keep it simple is the hardest thing for me and most of the time I miss the mark, but it sure feels good when I boil it down and it works. I wasn't sure about this one but I thank you for telling me you thought it did.
carver was indeed good.
genius?
hmmm.
but definitely solid-good.
Whatever you want to call it. Anyone would be lucky to have some of 'it'.
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