An outdoor wedding reception now. 105 degrees -- people are complaining about swarms of flies, but none are around my table.I am sitting here with Kim's little cousins, I think -- drinking black coffee and having just finished my 25th ham sandwich, when Kim finally sits down with me.
"They look like monopoly dice -- are they good?"
"Beyond good."
"You look like James Bond," she said with a hug.
And I did look like James Bond, sitting up straight there in my formal wear -- freshly shaven -- tan and fit from all my summer outdoor activities -- I thought about telling her that the only thing this James Bond was missing was a quality woman -- but I didn't tell her that.
"I'm glad things have changed since yesterday when you called me a dork," I said, guzzling more black coffee.
I don't believe in putting things in coffee. There's just something morally impure about it. I used to put things in my coffee when I was younger -- just like everyone experiments with this or that -- but I'm a grown man now. I like to go all the way and get an Americano every once in a while so I can most fully experience the bitterness.
People change. Just look at Kim's family, around us at this table here. Ten years ago, her brother was a baseball champion, her sister was working at Sugar's and her mother was in jail. These days, the brother is on drugs, her sister is reading Proust, and her mother is a veterinarian.
I tell everyone that I need more coffee, and I leave the table to go get it -- good strong black coffee -- that's how James Bond drank it. Okay -- James Bond never drank coffee -- but if he had, I'm certain that it'd be black.
No comments:
Post a Comment