"I hate this place....it's all so full of fat,ä whined Greg. ãI'll have the Santa Fe Salad, no dressing, no tortilla, no cheese, no chicken."
"No fun," the waiter smirked, and disappeared inside the restaurant.
No sooner had we ordered, than Greg started in on me about Mark. So, instead, I told him about my morning...
"I just sliced my hand open making 500 pounds of tuna tartare and here comes the owner's son, Rudy. He's all over me like a bad smell! He rips open the Band-Aid with his stained teeth and wraps it so tight around that it's throbbing, and then... and then... he KISSES MY FINGER!"
"Itâs nice that he takes a personal interest in his employees," Greg laughed. I didnât really see anything amusing about it.
"Later, I'm putting leaves of basil on the Belgian endive and he moves up behind me and whispers in my ear, ÎI'm in the mood for a little Andrew tartare.â"
"You should change your name to Anita Hill!"
"This is not even remotely funny, Greg. This is harassment!"
"All right! All right! Rudyâs an ass. You should sue. Now, letâs talk about Mark Fitzgerald."
I choke on my fries, spilling ketchup on my tie. The cute boys at the next table take notice and giggle. Catty bastards. "Why? Mark is the last thing I want to talk about," I cough.
"Was he really gonna be on the US Swim Team in the '84 Olympics?" asked Greg.
"Yeah. So what?"
"So, that's amazing, stupid. Why'd he quit?"
"Beats me,ä I shrugged. ã He was a great swimmer but he hated the competition. Maybe he wanted something that wouldn't turn his hair green."
"How long were you together?"
"A year in college." I took a breath, and the memory flooded back to me. "He left me standing on the gym floor after a basketball game."
"Do you think he still loves you?"
"Let me repeat -- HE left ME. Besides, it's been years."
"Do you still love him?"
"Leave it alone, Greg. Mark and I were a lifetime ago. As far as Iâm concerned heâs just an old friend."
"An old friend who makes you hot every time you think about him?" smirked Greg, and I felt the heat rising in my face.
