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.
This made me giggle even though it probably shouldn't have. I really liked the line "If it's something then it can't be everything." This is a straightforward piece with simple, short sentences that manages to say very much about the relationship between the speaker and Jessica (even though it's not clear what the relationship actually is). The apathy of the speaker is described quite clearly and I think that aspect is the best part of this piece (maybe think about using this same speaker in other instances where he or she is also apathetic... could be very entertaining).
ReplyDeleteI like how the disconnect between these two is played, and having that underlying burning-finger-sensation throughout the whole piece--like it's pain but it's the kind of pain that's maybe only merely irritating and yet it is this irritation, this distraction, this constant throbbing reminder of his own body that isolates him from Jessica--really works, as does the repetition of "hot plate," which is always said by a waiter somehow carrying hot plates on the bare skin of all his arms but waiters are used to it; their skin is like superior. And true, they never have neosporin. I like how the narrator has to kind of suck it up and deal at the end.
ReplyDeleteI love the way you tweaked a familiar scene of missed connections and bearing bad news. This tiny scene says a lot about both of these characters, but also gives a terse critique of sympathy or empathy. Your narrator wants to care about this girl's mother, but focuses on a real, personal pain instead. Nicely illustrated in your great diction and tone.
ReplyDeleteVery vibrant. I particularly appreciated the sparcity of the text. Concision. Great.
ReplyDeleteVery good! This evokes both humor and pathos through its attention to details. This is also a good example of when to use direct dialog as opposed to indirect dialog. We are told "Jessica told me that her mom had been diagnosed with cancer." (indirect dialog) This is the crisis in the story, the moment in which the narrator and the reader learn what is wrong, and therefore should be rendered in scene, in direct dialog ("My mother has cancer," Jessica said.). We are in the moment, and experience this with more immediacy, more emotional impact. I'm wondering if "Hot Plate" might be a better title; it is the cause of his inability to empathize with Jessica in this moment, and also what he says to her instead of "What's wrong?" It is mundane and trivial next to cancer, but also shows that when we are in physical pain in the moment, our capacity to empathize with someone else's emotional pain is compromised. Mexican food small talk, indeed. Bravo.
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