#81
Last week, my friend Lina invited me over to eat with her and her husband. Lina and I work together - our offices are next door, and we often have coffee together in the morning. So it seemed normal to come over for a meal.
Me: sure. I’ll be there.
She gave me her address, and I realized that I wasn’t far from my house. In fact, I had walked past there without knowing it a few times. My dog and I cover the entire neighborhood in the mornings, we have a few different paths, and we’ve walked it all by now. The streets here are clean, and the sidewalks are wide. I like to look at the landscaping and the colors of the houses — the choices people make, or don’t make. I like to see who’s selling, moving on.
I had put a bottle of white wine in the fridge the morning of the dinner and that evening, I showered and put on something that wasn’t work wear, and wasn’t just a t-shirt and jeans. I had the dog’s leash in one hand, and the bag with the wine in the other. I hoped it didn’t break — it didn’t seem sturdy enough.
It was a nice evening. The air was still, the temperature was cool. It took a little longer to walk there than usual, because the dog likes to stop and sniff. He had met Lina once before, and he’s sharp, and remembered her name, and when I told him where we were going, he got excited and barked.
Their apartment is on the ground floor of a building that only has one floor — they have neighbors across the parking lot, and one that shares a wall with them. When the dog and I arrived, their tattooed neighbor, Max, was out front of his apartment cleaning his motorcycle. Lina had mentioned him to me. He had a lot of tattoos, and a small dog was laying in the grass asleep.
Max: you must be Lina’s friend.
Me: I am. You must be Max. What’s your dog’s name?
Max: Bam.
He seemed pensive, quiet, and spoke with a calmness and speed that suggested deep reflection. He went back to his motorcycle and the dog came over to sniff the behind of mine. They seemed to get along.
Lina heard us and came out. She was dressed in running shorts and a tank-top. It seemed like she had just gotten back from a run, or yoga, or some other activity. She was barefoot and her long sticky legs ended at bony feet. Her skin was tanned, and her hair was back in a pony tail, she wasn’t wearing makeup. Her partner, Dave, came out, and was dressed nearly identical. Their apparel made my clothes seem formal. I handed her the wine.
Me: I brought some wine. It’s cold, or should be.
Lina: Oh great, we were just about to eat. Why don’t you help yourself.
Dave was inside scooping out some stew he had made into a bowl, and was standing in the kitchen eating it. As I stepped into the door, I realized that they had no dining table, no chairs, no place to sit and eat in the house. Dave gestured to the kitchen.
Dave: Don’t be shy. We can sit outside if you want.
I helped myself to some stew and rice and went back outside. Dave had opened the wine, and Lina had found a few coffee mugs to drink from. I poured.
Me: this is one of my favorite’s from the Rhone.
Dave: where’s that?
Me: France.
They both took a sip from their mug. And nodded in agreement.
Lina: We’re not big wine drinkers, as you can see. But this is nice.
They didn’t have any more after that first mugful and I finished the bottle on my own. Lina gave me a square of dark chocolate after we finished eating. Dessert I suppose, and we sat for a little longer, talking about work mostly. Dave had went back inside, and I could see him through one of the windows at his computer. I think he had said a handful of words all evening.
I walked home. It was barely 8PM and wondered what I was doing? Where am I? The night left a blurry taste on my mouth, and memories in my mind of dinners elsewhere, other places, with other people.
I took a different path home, the dog happy to smell something different along the way. It was a longer path, zig-zagging through the quiet streets, alone.