window thing

Hey. Here's the thing I wrote for that window assignment. I don't know that it's particularly "presentable", or at least I wouldn't know how to present it, so you can just read it, if you'd like.

can i kick it? yes you can: I was in Cafe University, on University and Waverly, and overheard three dudes talking. One guy was telling the other two a crazy story. I wrote this from the perspective of one of the listening dudes. Here's a peculiarly-exposed picture of the front window of the cafe while someone drinking a bottle of water walks by.

















Do to yourself enjoy:

Me and Jack and Des, we walk into this pizza place at maybe 3 o’clock in the afternoon. All three of us, we’re already pretty hammered, but we all grab a couple beers each and order a couple slices each and we sit down at the window while we wait for our chow. It’s been a real good day so far – you can’t beat a day in the city, just you and yer best buds, ya know? – but to be honest I didn’t know what we were doing. On the ride in I thought maybe it was some kind of celebration, maybe I was just out of the loop, but by the time we sit down in this place and sip our new drinks, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. So I go ahead and pose the million dollar question.

“Des why are we here today?”

“Huh?” I shouldn’t really have to explain myself, but I do. It was his idea to come into the city. He hasn’t said a whole lot, and I think he’s the drunkest of us all.

“I mean I’m havin’ a great time and all but why did we come in to New York today? Like, all we been doin’ is drinkin’ and eatin’.”

Jack chimes in, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Hell no there is not,” I stammer drunkenly, and we all take gulps from our bottles.

The guy at the counter calls out and when we turn he’s looking our way to tell us our food is ready. Jack nods at me and we walk up to get the three trays.

“What’re you doin’ man?” he asks.

“Whadda ya mean?”

“‘Why are we here?’ What’re you a philosopher now?”

“Nah, man, I’m just curious ‘bout why he wanted to come into the city so bad today, ya know? You’re not curious?”

“I am, I am, but there’s somethin’ wrong, you c’n see it well as I can, but I ain’t about to force it. Lay back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I concede. We sit back down on either side of Des. He’s looking out at the street. It’s finally springtime, and it’s been warm all day, but the street is surprisingly un-busy. I take a bite of my pizza. Des has got this blank look on his face, so when he speaks it’s really pretty startling even though I asked him a question only a minute ago.

“She’s leaving me.”

“What?” Jack and I both exclaim in mid-chew.

“Kate. She’s leaving me. She already left, actually. Eight years…” He finishes off a beer. We don’t know what to say.

“Uhh…what happened?” Jack asks, courageously.

“Hm.” Silence. Des eats and I try to catch Jack’s eye, if only to see if he’s thinking what-the-fuck? as hard as I am. “Well. We got the house painted like six or seven months ago or whatever, you remember?”

“Yeah, it came out pretty good, looked like a brand new place.”

“Yeah well she fucked the painter.” Beer comes out of Jack’s nose. I nearly choke. “Yeah, she had an affair. Guess they only fucked a couple times, though, ‘cause it turned out the guy’s a queer.” I’m staring at Des slackjawed and looking like an idiot but I can’t help it. “That’s not the worst of it, though.” I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t asked. “Yeah. Turned out the guy got her pregnant.”

“Oh, God, Des” I mutter. This is too much.

“But the asshole, before tellin’ her, ya know, ‘I’m gay’, he tells her ‘Don’t have the kid’. So at some point, she gets a abortion. She was bein’ real weird lately, I knew somethin’ was up, but I don’ know, man, I just thought maybe she wasn’t feelin’ well or somethin’, ya know? I figured she’d just…get over it…”

“Jesus man…and this was all in the last couple months?” Jack asks.

“Yeah. I’m not real clear on the exact timeline. But yeah.”

“Goddamn….” We all drink, and we all watch as a group of pretty girls walk past the window. It’s such a clear day.

“So two days ago she tells me all this, and that she’s filing for divorce. She tells me that I need to move out and just look ‘er right in the eye and I tell ‘er ‘Fuck off.’ She packed a couple suitcases, took her car and left. I sat around for a day, got drunk, then called you guys this morning.”

“Shit…” I say.

“Shit…” Jack agrees.

“So I’m not really sure where to go from here. I’ve got this, ya know…but this ain’t gonna last. I’m gonna hafta get back to work soon, and then what? Do I call her? What?”

“Nah man, divorce her. That’s it. That’s the end of it,” Jack claims as he waves his arms around, kinda lookin’ like an ump calling a runner safe on first base. If he’s got some master plan or big reason that Des should give it all up he’s not mentioning it now but I nod in agreement anyway ‘cause I’m not so sure a big reason really matters right now. “You gotta get a lawyer man,” he adds. “You can get money outta this, fer sure.”

“What?” I don’t think Des is curious about the money so much as he doesn’t know what Jack is talking about.

“Yeah man you gotta get a lawyer, you’ll get a million, or two million, at least!”

“Hm….” It doesn’t look like Des is buying it, but he’s not exactly the easiest guy to read right now.

“Oh, man,” I think of something important. “But don’t say anything about yer inheritance.” At least I think that’s important.

He says, “Yeah I never told her ‘bout that…” and I think that’s pretty surprising.

I don’t remember any of us eating while we were talking but none of us have any food left on our plates or beer left in our bottles. Des is still looking pretty down but now I don’t blame him anymore. I look over his shoulder and motion to Jack that we should head out. Jack pats Des on the back and says, “Hey, let’s get outta here, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Des lets out a real heavy sigh, and lifts his head and looks out the window. “Let’s get outta here.” We dump our trash, and step back out on to the street, facing north I think.

“Come on man,” I tell him, “let’s go have some laughs.”