“Here’s your mojito,” the bartender says as he hands me my glass. He has one of those mustaches that curls up on the ends and is wearing a Hawaiian themed t-shirt.
I look around the bar and realize that all the staff are wearing Hawaiian themed t-shirts. I look around again and notice there is not a single piece of Hawaiian decoration on the walls, I turn my focus back to my Mojito.
My friend is sitting across from me. He’s from New Zealand and has one of those accents which clearly identify him as someone who’s from New Zealand. I met him over Facebook after I posted an adoption picture of me and my cat on some group. He replied to my post saying that I had a nice cat. I asked if he wanted it, he said no. We’ve been friends ever since.
“If you didn’t call me, I wouldn’t have left my house,” I say as I jab my straw between the crushed ice in my glass.
“Why not?” he asks, sipping his gin and tonic.
“I just don’t want to see anyone, I feel – not that I don’t care, but I feel numb.”
“Have you been thinking abo—”
“Are you asking me suicide prevention questions?”
“No,” he pauses, “if I was going to ask you safety questions since you know, I am a doctor, I would ask you, have you thought about hurting yourself?”
“Yes,” I genuinely answer as I take a sip of my mojito, “I think everyone’s thought about hurting themselves. You know when you’re driving and you just want to –” I gesture a tilting steering wheel, “you know, just see what would happen if you went straight into the pole.”
He nods, “why don’t you just hit the breaks really fast in a parking lot?”
“That’s not the same.”
“It’s a good way to see how it feels.”
“Yeah, but you don’t really get to see how it feels to hit the pole.”
There’s a pause as he grabs his drink, “have you made any plans for this?”
“Of course not, I’m too selfish and too much of a pussy to do that.”
He nods with satisfaction and stirs his drink with the miniature wooden stir stick in his glass.
“But the past couple months, it’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
“What, dying in general? Or your death?”
“My death,” I take a sip, “not even the after-life part, I’m concerned about the exact moment I will die – the realization of my own death. That’s all I think about when I’m alone.”
“Are you sure this isn’t because your just grandpa died,” he asks.
“No, no, no, I don’t think so, I mean, this has been going on in my mind for a while now,” I pause for a moment. “Yesterday, I thought about it so much, I had a moment of insanity at the take-out joint I went to.”
He finishes his drink and waves at the bartender for another round.
I’m at the take-out place that lets you pick out the food you want by weight, they have literally every possible meat dish available – I don’t eat meat. The place is as big as my bathroom and overheated from the oven that’s currently roasting a couple chickens. A few husky businessmen are eating at one of the tables in the corner, fully emerged in lunch time conversation. However, I’m focused at the lady working behind the counter. She has the oven open and is currently poking a roasting chicken. Her hair’s in a sloppy ponytail and she’s wearing a visor. I stare at her visor for a couple moments, thinking of how useless they are. They don’t actually protect you from the sun. You will get melanoma if you wear a visor. Anyways, as I’m staring at her visor, my eyes scan down to her face. Her face was one that you wouldn’t mind punching. Not because she’s wearing a visor, which I think is enough of a reason, but because she has that type of jaw that is overly relaxed, where her mouth is almost half-way opened, as if she’s saying “duh”.
“What do you want,” she asks unenthused.
“We’ll take four pieces of fried zucchini,” I say, pointing to the plate.
She takes a pair of tongs, and moves the regular sized zucchini slices out of the way, selecting four miniature-sized pieces, stuffing one-by-one into the plastic container. I look at her slightly perplexed, then I glance at my dad, giving him the “what is she doing” look. He’s too busy examining the potato salad to notice my cry for help. I continue watching her seal up the plastic container and set it on the counter.
This bitch did that on purpose, I think to myself with slight rage. And she’s probably hasn’r even thought about her death. That fucking visor.
“Are you serious?” I ask her as I feel my face becoming warm.
She looks up at me emotionless, “what.”
“Who’s eating that,” I say pointing to the container, “do you see the size of those pieces you picked? Who’s eating that? Are you gonna them?” I pause and look up at the ceiling for a quick moment and place one hand over my mouth. “Do I look like a fucking midget to you?” I point to my dad, “do we look like small people, what the hell am I supposed to do with the shit end of a zucchini.”
My dad starts to order another dish, “ha, ohhhkay and we’ll take, the, uh,” he looks intensely through the glass, ” yeah, let’s do 200 grams of the potato salad.”
She moves her attention to my dad as she scoops out some potato salad.
“Did you want more?” she asks him.
“Yeah, one more scoop, please.”
“We don’t have anymore,” she says as her gaze hits my eyes. She turns around to weigh the container.
I turn to my dad hastily, “Did you just see what she did?” I whispered. “What th — you know what this is, she thinks she controls the fucking food supply. That’s what this is, a fucking power tactic – this bitch, I swear, Dad, fucking Darwin.”
My dad nods in agreement and politely pays for the food.
“Bye-bye now,” my dad says cheerfully as he walks out the store.
I grab the food from the counter and wave my middle finger in the air behind him.
“You actually did that?” Alex asks me as the waiter comes by with a tray of shots.
“Well, yeah, I was having a mental breakdown and also, you should have seen the size of those things. It was fucking ridiculous,” I reply as I grab a shot glass.
There’s a moment of silence.
“Well, I bought you something, but I’m not sure now —,” he pulls out a plastic bag and hestitantly puts it on the table.
“What is it?”
“A book about death.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know…you were..uh..it’s a comedy…”
I stare at him in silence.
He looks at me and takes a shot.
thelonelyserb 