Chapter nine
Late Sunday afternoon, Jack came into the restaurant and spotted Tania juicing carrots.
“I got a telegram the other day,” he said.
Tania froze.
“I wasn’t here so Blanche opened it for me.”
Oh shit, thought Tania.
Jack continued, “She was afraid it might be about my ninety-year-old grandmother.”
He paused.
“It wasn’t.”
“Oh, well,” said Tania.
Jack laughed, and Tania put a carrot in the juicer. He came close to her.
“Say it again.”
“Say what?” she asked.
“You know . . . about how you like me.”
Tania blushed.
“I love you for who you are inside, Jack.”
Tania turned off the juicer. Jack put his hands on the machine.
“Whadja do to this thing; it’s quivering.”
Tania set down the glass of carrot juice in front of a male customer sitting alone at a two-top. She pulled out a guest check.
“Shall I take the rest of your order?”
“Some guy already did that.”
“What guy?” asked Tania.
“The one over there.”
The customer pointed to a server Tania had never seen before.
“Wait a minute; I know you. You’re Mother Nature.”
“Yes, I am. Drink your carrot juice, and I’ll be right back.”
Tania made a beeline for Ellen.
“Who’s the new guy, and why’s he stealing my table?”
“His name’s Randy; he just moved here from Chicago. He’s a real pro.”
Tania marched over to him; he was ladling chili into a bowl from a steam table pan.
“Eleven is my table,” she said.
“Nobody was waiting on him, and he was about to leave.”
“I was waiting on him, and he wasn’t going anywhere.”
Randy tossed his guest check for table eleven into the steam table pan and strode away.
“Asshole,” muttered Tania.
She tweezed the guest check out of the pan with a pair of chopsticks and wiped it with a damp rag. She topped off the half-filled bowl of chili and clothes-pinned the soggy check to the cooks’ line.
“Ordering a seitan sandwich,” called out Tania.
Then she set down the chili in front of the customer at table eleven.
“Ah, Mother Nature, I was wondering when you’d return. What’ll it be today? Rain, sunshine, DROUGHT?” he asked.
She placed her index finger on her cheek and gazed into space.
“ ‘Today, it’ll be colder than a witch’s tit.’ ”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“You were?”
“I’m Jesse Larabee; I did the publicity shots for You Can’t Win for Losing. I thought the show was great; I thought you were great.”
“You did?”
The following night, Tania opened the door to Ed and Irv’s. Jack sat at the bar nursing a shot of tequila. Tania approached him; Jack downed the last of the shot.
“You’re late,” he said.
“This isn’t work, Jack; I’m not wearing an apron.”
They sat down at a table; Jack snickered.
“You just smoked a joint.”
Tania straightened her spine.
“How do you know?”
“I can tell,” he answered. “I just had a toot myself.”
Tania furrowed her brow.
“Are you sure you didn’t snort the whole train? Can we go?”
“Uh . . . yeah . . . sure. Do ya have any money?”
“What?”
“ . . . for the drink. I forgot my wallet.”
Tania paid Irv, and they left for her place.
Jack checked out every room in Tania’s apartment.
“You can’t afford this on what you make at the cafe.”
“I manage the building and get a break on my rent.”
Jack eyed the posters and photographs around the living room; Tania pointed to a snapshot of a couple on the deck of a ship.
“Those are my parents. She’s from Wisconsin; he was from Argentina.”
She moved on to a poster from You Can’t Win For Losing.
“That’s from my last show.”
She turned to Jack.
“It was a surrealistic comedy, but you already know that.”
Jack stopped in front of a photo of cosmos, gladiolas, and zinnias surrounded by a fence and arbor covered with morning glories.
“That’s my garden.”
She faced Jack.
“Now you know everything about me.”
“Not quite.”
He lay down on the floor and stared at the ceiling.
“You know, there are lots of women I could be with . . . my ex-wife, this barmaid I met the other night. The new cashier can’t keep her hands out of my pants, and Holly’s mother’s nuts about me.”
“Why are you telling me this?” asked Tania.
Jack propped himself up on his elbow.
“I called you when I got back from Connecticut; that’s why.”
“Yeah?” said Tania.
“I wanna know what you want,” said Jack.
“I just want us to take a break from our everyday lives.”
“And do what?”
“Be close.”
Jack got up.
“I’ve gotta take a dump; got anything to read?”
“You mean like War and Peace?”
“No, like the Farmers’ Almanac.”
“There’s a copy in the bathroom.”
Tania’s phone rang. She hesitated and then answered it.
“No, Mother, I’m not watching Dynasty.”
“Well turn it on,” said Mrs. Wildman.
Tania complied.
“That’s Leslie Carrington. You’d look just like her if you put on some makeup and styled your hair a bit,” said her mother.
“Uh-huh, I’ve got to go,” said Tania.
“She’s in love with Clay, but he might be her brother,” responded Angela.
Jack came out of the bathroom; Tania turned off the TV.
“Bye,” said Tania.
She hung up the phone.
“Got any tequila?” asked Jack.
“No, but somebody left a bottle of vodka here last summer.”
“Go get it.”
He sat down on a cushioned chair; Tania returned with a half-empty fifth of Smirnoff. Jack picked up a framed photograph from an end table. It was of Tania directing a girl in a space helmet.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“After I left the private school, I freelanced doing theater workshops with kids. I’d ask them, ‘If you could be anyone, who would you want to be?’ Then I’d write a play using those characters, and the kids acted in it. They got to be who they wanted to be; get it?”
She handed the vodka to Jack.
“Unfortunately, I wound up without a pot to piss in.”
He took a swig from the bottle.
“I’d give anything to be an athlete again,” he said
“What kind of athlete?”
“I ran in college; long distances were my specialty.”
Tania sat down on Jack’s lap. He swallowed another gulp from the fifth and wiped his mouth.
“I’m not into sex right now,” he said.
Tania pulled off her top exposing her bare breasts beneath an opera length strand of pearls. She took the bottle from Jack and put her mouth around the opening.
“Leave the pearls on,” he said.
Tania swallowed the vodka.
“I was going to,” she replied.
Jack left early the next morning. Tania smoked a joint, sipped a cup of tea, and phoned Christopher.
“So why can’t he get it up? Am I too scary?” she asked.
“Being close to anybody is probably too scary; all the booze and blow isn’t helping. His self-esteem needs jacking up. Then his penis will follow.”
A few days later, Tania got Jack to meet her at Mueller Park for a run.
Jack pressed his hand against a tree trunk and stretched his calf.
“You go ahead; I have to warm up,” he said.
“I’ll wait for you,” said Tania. “I thought we’d take 25th over to the lake; that’s about eight blocks and then come back on 26th.”
Jack didn’t say anything; they started off. He was fine for the first block but started huffing and puffing around Emerson. He stopped in front of the Gas Hole service station at the corner of Hennepin. Tania was already halfway through the crosswalk.
Jack called out, “You go ahead; I’ll catch up. I think I pulled something.”
He watched Tania step onto the curb and gain speed. Then he moseyed over to the gas station’s convenience store and pressed all the coin return buttons on the newspaper vending machines out front. A quarter dropped into The Wall Street Journal cup. Jack grabbed the coin, went inside the store, and bought a bag of Cheddar Crinkles.
Jack munched on the cheesy snacks and strolled over to Humbolt Avenue. He hid behind a building on 26th Street and waited until Tania ran by. Then he raced up beside her at the corner of Hennepin.
“Going my way?” he asked.
“Where did you come from?”
“I was behind you the whole time; I just floored it the last couple of blocks.”
What’s that orange shit on his teeth? wondered Tania.
They crossed the street and jogged to Mueller Park.
Jack collapsed on a swing; Tania sat on one beside him.
“Don’t you feel good about yourself?” she asked.
Jack coughed and spit on the ground.
“Yeah, I feel great,” he answered.
Tania got up and went to kiss him on the mouth. Jack turned his cheek.
“I don’t think the problem is sex, Jack. I think you’re afraid of being close.”
He stared into space.
“Will you meet me here on Friday?” she asked.
“Yeah . . . sure.”
“Six-thirty Friday morning,” said Tania.
“Right,” said Jack.
Tania left the park, and Jack looked around for someone who had a cigarette he could bum.
At 10:00 the next night, Jack tuned in Channel 4 on the Good Karma’s TV and plopped his ass on his personal barstool. Randy came up and slapped him on the back.
“Hey, cool dude, do you know where I can score some blow?”
Randy pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it on the bar. Jack picked up the C-note and rolled it into a straw.
“Let’s go into my office and do some business,” he said.
Jack lifted himself off the stool.
“I can get you a break on quantity; got any friends who might be interested?”
After the cafe closed, Jack served up shots in the bar from a bottle of Old Fitz. Randy and Jack washed down the bourbon with beer. At 3 a.m., the bottle of Old Fitz was empty.
“Randy, I’m making you my exclusive distributor, and you know what your territory’s gonna be? All of planet earth, Randy; that’s what your territory’s gonna be. Whaddya think about that?”
“Sounds great, Boss.”
“Let’s go back in my office and take inventory.”
“You’re the man,” said Randy.
Tania’s alarm clock went off at 5:30 Friday morning. She headed to the bathroom, peed, and turned on the shower.
At 5:50, Jack came into his apartment. He ripped off his jacket, pulled out his shirt, and dropped his pants. He crawled into bed and put the covers over his head.
Tania got to Mueller Park at exactly 6:30. She saw a big guy stretching his calves; his head was covered by the hood of his sweatshirt. Tania hurried toward him. He looked up, and she stopped. Then she circled the park. After that, she lay down under a tree and gazed at the sky until 6:50.
He’s not late, thought Tania. He’s not coming.
At 6:56, she got up, took one more walk around the park, and went home.
Tania phoned Jack around 7:15. He finally answered, heard Tania’s voice, and stuttered an excuse.
“It’s not your ankle that’s the problem, Jack. It’s your nose. The stuff that you shove in it makes you crazy; you make me crazy, and I don’t want to be crazy.”
Tania listened for a moment then cut him off.
“Please, I don’t want to hear any more bullshit.”
Later that day, Jack parked himself in front of the cafe’s punch clock. When Tania came into work, she pulled her time card from a wall-mounted rack, maneuvered around him, and punched in. When she headed to the wait station, he followed. Tania looked over her shoulder; Jack backed her into the counter.
“Thanks for the call; I appreciate your concern,” he said.
Tania was silent. Jack turned away and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said.
He stirred in some cream.
“ . . . about putting in a garden out front.”
He added raw sugar and looked into Tania’s eyes.
“I sure could use your help.”
He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip.
“I’m not interested,” said Tania.
Jack spit out the coffee; it had burned his tongue.
Tania walked into the dining room and bumped into Jesse Larabee.
“The hostess said you could wait on me if I sat at that table by the window. Can I have a cup of regular coffee? I’ll be right back.”
Jesse set off for the men’s room. Tania poured a cup of regular and set it down on Jesse’s table. He came up close behind her.
“I’m ready to order.”
Tania turned toward him.
“What would you like?”
“I’d like you to go out with me.”
“I meant, what would you like to eat?”
Their eyes lit up, and they burst out laughing.
