Out to Eat

            The plate of tamales was especially hot.  The waiter said “Hot plate” like they always do, but it left a mark on my finger after I touched it.

            Jessica was twiddling her thumbs.  I hated it when she twiddled her thumbs.  It made me nervous.  I didn’t want to go through the whole “What’s wrong?  Oh, nothing…” conversation.  So instead I just said, “Hot plate.”  I guess that’s Mexican food small talk.

            It’s been weird between us lately.  I don’t know what exactly it is.  I wish it was easier to track down.  If it’s something then it can’t be everything.

            Jessica told me that her mom had been diagnosed with cancer.  My thumb still hurt from the hot plate.  I had trouble focusing on her.  I knew I needed to listen, but my finger kept on pounding.  So I got up and walked to the bathroom and held it under some cold water.  It felt better after that.  I splashed a little water in my face and walked back out to the table.  Jessica was gone.  I asked our waiter for the check and two boxes and if they had any Neosporin.  They didn’t.

Clarence

            It was understandable that Clarence didn’t want any ice cream.  When Clarence was a child he watched an old man lick ice cream off a dirty tile floor.  Instead of fetching any napkins the old man knelt to the ground and licked the ice cream off the dirty tile floor.  Clarence thought of this every time he saw ice cream.

            But Cheryl was celebrating her birthday.  Clarence loved Cheryl.  Really he did.  He got used to the way she made jokes that weren’t funny.  And her love of the color pink.  He lost sight of that strange old fear when Cheryl was near.  So he took a leap of faith and ordered a cone of Mint Chocolate Chip.

            Clarence licked the cone while Cheryl stared.  It was sweet and his stomach was littered with butterfly wings.  The cool, creaminess of the ice cream went straight to his brain and muddled his motor skills.  And as he caught Cheryl’s eye (the eye that says I love you too, the eye that says you can sleep here tonight, the eye that closes others) the waffle cone slipped out of his fingers and smudged the once spotless tile floor.