The Cost of Lunch, Etc. (21 page)

He ordered a steak; she ordered a Cobb salad that almost fit into her budget. They each had a glass of wine, making small talk about the weather, the Yankees, although she herself preferred that underdog perennially heartbreaking team, the Mets. They exchanged information on their families. Both of them came from similar backgrounds, she was pleased to note: she had been born in Jersey, in East Orange. He was from Hicksville on Long Island. They had both intended from early adolescence to move into the city. Her father was an insurance salesman, not a very successful one. Her mother, when she and her brother were old enough, worked as a receptionist in a doctor’s office. His father had a shoe store that went broke and his mother was a nurse in pediatrics. He had one sister; she had one brother, both younger than themselves. She began to feel this might go somewhere.

She explained her job. He commented, “Can’t be much money in that.”

“A lot more than where I worked before, in a battered women’s shelter.”

Silence.

“What do you do?”

He was in derivatives. The more he explained, the less she understood. Finally she decided to change the subject.
“How do you see yourself say in five years? Your goals …” It felt a bit formal, as if she were interviewing him for a job.

He liked that question. “I want to move up at Stepler and Coakes. I drive a BMW but I want something … finer. A Lamborghini really says success. I’ve bought a condo in the Back Bay, but I want a water view, not the alley behind.” It was as if he had lit up from within. His face was suddenly animated. He removed his glasses and his eyes shone. “I’d like a house in the Caribbean to take a winter vacation where it’s warm. I rent a place for two weeks in January, but it’s pretty primitive—just three rooms half a mile from the beach in Santa Lucia, although it does come with maid service. But you can’t leave anything lying around, of course … A wife, I guess.” He nodded at her. “Kids, eventually. But the main thing is to move up and get the lifestyle. I’ve been accepted into a couple of useful clubs, but until I do better, I can’t move up there either. If I’d gone to Harvard … I did go to Harvard Business School, of course, but I don’t have the connections those dudes who came up through prep schools and then Harvard have to ease their way …”

Jessie slept alone that night, as always. She decided that two minutes was not nearly enough to get a fix on someone.

Recently

“But I thought girls were into vampires.”

“My wife was a real bitch. She kept trying to pussywhip me and tie an apron around my balls.”

“Those girls who walk around in low cut tops and short skirts are just asking for it.”

“I bet Hillary has fat thighs and stretch marks.”

“So I got fired just for watching porn at the office.”

“Why don’t you sext me some hot photos of you touching yourself?”

“But we’re separated and I’ll be getting a divorce any day now.”

“I’m into Scientology … The Fundamentalist Church of Utter Humiliation for Women … The Flat Earth Society … New Creationism … The Tea Party … The Illuminati … The KKK … etc.” The list keeps growing as does stupidity.

Any Old Time

When Rachel met Seth, he invited her over for supper. He cooked a delicious chicken cacciatore, put on an apron and washed the dishes afterward. He was considerate and knowledgeable in bed. He consulted her before making mutual dates or appointments. When she spoke, he actually listened. His politics were fine.

Of course after they moved in together, she learned that chicken cacciatore was one of the only three dishes he knew how to cook, but to this day, he puts on an apron and does the dishes. He still listens when she speaks. She is happy she met him.

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