A story about anything

Story about Anything

He cocked his head to one side, like a pug trying to figure out what was in its bowl, as if trying to figure out what was on his plate. It was mashed potatoes. With gravy. Like, really good stuff. She watched his reaction, fascinated. She was definitely intrigued, because he was quite odd. She didn\'t know if that was a good thing or not, but it wasn\'t necessarily bad. It was just…well, odd. Like when someone plops a plate of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes in front of you, the normal reaction is to, I don\'t know, grab a fork or something. Not cock your head like a puppy like you have no idea why there\'s mashed potatoes on your plate.

\"I swear I asked for fries.\"

\"You didn\'t.\"

\"Well, I didn\'t ask for mashed potatoes. Why on earth would I do that?\"

\'No. I don\'t think you asked for anything \'cept chicken-fried steak and a Coke. It just comes with mashed potatoes.\"

\"I should ask for fries.\"

\"She\'s right behind you. Call her over.\"

\"I think I will. I mean, I like fries. I don\'t like mashed potatoes. It\'s the crispness. I like that. I don\'t like mushy.\"

\"No? No mushy?\"

\"No. I hate bananas. I hate mayonnaise and anything like that. I don\'t hate mashed potatoes but I like fries better. And if I have to eat mashed potatoes, I like them lumpy. Like mash them with that thingy like once or twice. What\'s that thing called?

\"Potato masher?\"

\"Yeah, that.\"

\"Once or twice? Is that even mashed potatoes.\"

\"To me it is. I mean, there\'s no rule that says it has to be mashed more than once, so I figure one mash is good enough and then you can call it mashed potatoes.\"

\"Do you have to mash the potato all the way?\"

\"Well, yeah. If you only mash it halfway down, you\'ve got this funny half-mashed potato. You can call it half-mashed, because that\'s what it is. But you can\'t call it mashed, because it\'s not.\"

\"Well, I\'m pretty sure you can call it whatever you want. People call things funny things all the time on menus.\"

\"Like chicken fried steak. You know how long it took me before I figured out what the heck that meant?\"

\"I don\'t think I\'ve ever thought about that. I grew up here, we just always kind of knew what chicken-fried steak was. I thought you were from here, too, like Jefferson County?\"

Jefferson County was about as podunk as it gets. They were at the best restaurant in the entire county, the Waffle House. Fluorescent lights, torn vinyl on the booth. Old couple in the booth behind her, and her high school janitor sitting at the counter like he always does. But the Waffle House has like, no style. It\'s just a place. If there was a better place, you\'d go there, but it\'s Jefferson County so there isn\'t and you don\'t.

\"I moved there when I was fourteen. I\'m actually from California. Not like the good part or anything. The central valley. Sort of ugly and hot. All we did was skate and smoke.\"

\"When you were fourteen?\" she said, eyebrows raised. This was good. He was already revealing something about himself. The last couple of guys were like these brick walls. Monosyllabic monkeys, barely able to grunt a \"I\'m in sales\" or \"I like your rack.\"

\"More like eleven. I was doing coke at fourteen.\"

Okay, that surprised her.

\"I don\'t do that stuff now. I straightened myself out when I came here. First kid I met was like me, except first day he\'s offering me oxy and I\'m a little weirded out. I kind of decided I wasn\'t going to do that scene.\"

She felt relief. She didn\'t want to be too judgmental, but there were some bad experiences she didn\'t want to relive. She found all this kind of charming, in a funny sort of way. Her mind jumped back in time a few years, to that d-bag who shall not be named. He was legit charming. Handsome, tall, what a smile. Every. Single. Word that fell out of his mouth was like a magic rainbow unicorn waterfall. In retrospect, it was really just that smile. She was completely in and she knew it. He cheated on her. Couldn\'t keep it in his pants. Not good enough. So she was wary about guys who were a little bit too charming. This guy, more like goofy charming. Odd, right?

\"So I kind of had my get sober moment pretty early. I looked around and didn\'t want to end up stuck here. No offense.\"

\"Hm?\"

\"It\'s not where I need to be in life. I don\'t know where I need to be, but there\'s a place for me.\"

\"What does that place look like?\" She knew what her place looked like. Three years ago, after high school graduation, she want to Mexico with her best friends. She\'d never been out of the country before, but one of her friends was Mexican and they were going to stay with her cousin in Cancun. Except that he lived in a rundown apartment with three other guys there, so the girls left and got their own place. They spent most of their money on it. The whole point of staying with this cousin was that it made all the parents feel better, but they wouldn\'t feel better if they saw where he lived. They got a little room on the beach in Tulum. It wasn\'t much, just a shack way at the far end of the tourist strip, but it was there\'s. Not a care in in the world. What was a southern girl doing in a place with cenote parties all night followed by yoga on the beach at sunrise? She didn\'t care, but she knew she needed to go back. That was her place. She had to go to school first, though. But sooner enough, just one more year, and she was going to move down there..

He looked at her face. He hadn\'t really looked at her yet, other than certain things when she walked into the restaurant. She was beautiful. Like, really beautiful. He\'d been surprised that she was black, but damn she was fine.

He remembered that she asked him a question, and felt bad about being spaced out. After last time, he swore he\'d never do a first date on a Friday night again. Too tired. Got to have that day of rest on Saturday. You can\'t be exhausted on a first date. He drank a Red Bull before leaving, thinking that would liven him up, but no, he was pretty tired still. He really tried not to look tired. But then here was spacing out. Then spacing out thinking about how he was just spacing out. Ouch.

\"I\'m like two people, I swear. Like, part of me thinks my place is like in Brooklyn on something. The most citiest city possible. Just bricks and people everywhere. But then I\'m like, maybe I just want to go be a surfer.\"

\"You surf?\" she asked, intrigued. Not a surfer alive who doesn\'t have a killer body, she thought.

\"No, but I really like the idea. I have terrible balance. But wouldn\'t it be cool to give the shaka to a dolphin, slap hands with a turtle and punch a shark in the nose?\"

She was just thinking about tanned six packs. Then she remembered that he was eating chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes. Maybe there was something to this whole wanting to leave thing. Hawaii has to be nice like Mexico, right? Oh jeez, she thought, did she just paint a mental picture of running away to live in Hawaii with this guy that she met, like, 30 minutes ago? She blushed.

\"Have you ever seen a shark?\" The words sort of fell clumsily from his mouth. He didn\'t like the silence. It felt awkward. Like he said something kind of weird about punching sharks, and she just sort of stopped talking and starting drifting away. It might have been thirty seconds, but in his head that silence was like at least ten minutes.

\"I saw Sharknado, does that count?\"

\"Probably not.\"

\"Then, no.\"

The waitress walked by, the Waffle House Jackie Brown. His eyes tried to follow her, but without getting caught following her. It didn\'t work. She noticed. And scowled. He knew he\'d been busted, and hoped it didn’t ruin his chances.

He hadn\'t, but she wondered how long before she let him off the hook. It was a first date, not something serious. It had promise, yeah, she thought, but a long way to go to the church. Oh shit. Did she just think that? She blushed again.