5 haven’t seen you around for a while

 

6

i muffled the downpour with the slam of an old wooden door
wiping fog off my glasses, i followed a girl in an apron and glasses and eyes brown as the chef’s to a coral chair in the corner under dim chandelier
the peruvian cantina was filled with sunday brunch chatter and fast strumming guitar
the chef seemed as interested in hugging patrons as arranging enchiladas and cilantro into art on painted plates
most of the way through my glass of alicante bouschet a woman with dark hair up in a bun, above a round face, introduced herself as mama and filled my cup with one hand
setting a plate before me with the other
the enchilada was infused with fresh minced garlic and cumin and crushed chilis
i stopped writing long enough to clean my plate
mama brought me more wine and i lost myself for a moment watching her husband laugh so loud vibrations rattled my chest
i finished my last glass of wine slowly, writing faster as the liquor flowed through my loosened thoughts
a few pages filled before the noise of clanking dishes and laughter hit me
the words that had been flowing so freely now felt choked inside me, all sticky and unwilling to move about
mama was in the back room and the chef was busy with a sauté pan
sensing an opportunity to slip out unnoticed, i threw a few twenties on the table and snuck to the door
but as i turned the handle, the old man’s voice baritoned behind me
“i hope you come back my friend”
i turned and his arms pulled me into the folds of his apron and belly
i should have known i could not sneak away so easily
pulling my coat and scarf about me, i stepped into the rain

 

 

 

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