It is five to one and Lou is in the usual booth, halfway down the row on the right side of the Quark Lounge. No one is wearing a mask but the staff. Lou has placed our orders online for one o’clock.
“I didn’t order the fake meat burgers.”
“Just as well, I can’t digest them.”
“Yeah, gave me some trouble too.”
“Did it!”
“We are getting too old for anything but basics.”
“What do you mean, basics?”
“Meat and potatoes, of course!”
“Who knows what those fake things are made of?”
“Generally, they have a lot of legumes in them for protein.”
The waiter comes by with fish and chips with coleslaw.
“Hi, my name is Sam. I’ll be your server today.”
“How are you doing Sam?”
“Two ‘High Seas Specials’, guys.”
He places the oval platters in front of us with slaw in its own small dish, and rectangular pieces of golden battered fish, half buried in thin fries, garnished with parsley and a lemon slice.
“You got some beers coming, Sam?”
“Sure, two Stella’s coming right up.”
As Sam turns away, a young woman with short black hair, and, hearts and butterflies tattooed on her left arm, brings us our beers on a small tray.
“Anything else gentlemen?”
Lou pokes the batter with his fork and sniffs it.
“I have never seen a box-shaped fish before. What kind is this?”
“Ocean fish, sir.”
“Yeah, okay as opposed to river fish?”
“Right, fresh from the ocean.”
“You sure it isn’t frozen?”
“No sir, your portion is fully cooked.”
“Okay, but was it frozen before it was cooked.”
“Ah, I don’t know sir. You want to talk to the manager?”
“Is Mr. Hoffmann around?”
“No sir, the manager is here.”
“That’s okay, but I would like to know what… No,
skip it. This is fine. Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The bartender walks back to the bar.
“Fred, I am worried about this place.”
“Yes, the geometry of this stuff is most un-fish-like.”
“You know what it is, don’t you?”
“Something that was swimming in the salty seas.”
“It is a mixture of Atlantic Whitefish, Mackerel, and Sardines.”
“Wait a minute. That’s what bel feeds her cat.”
“It is?”
“Yup, I was around there feeding them over a weekend last month.”
“You mean we are eating cat food?”
“Well, hi there!”
Bel Vionnet is standing by our table with her mask on and a hefty leather case bulging with documents.
“I thought you might be in here, Wednesdays, right?
“Mostly but not always.”
What about my cat, Fred?”
“We are eating the same food.”
“He’s eating it. Not so sure myself.”
“Lou, you two could have come by our house and had that for free.”
“Thanks, bel, but I wouldn’t have the rarified ambiance of this semi-dark lounge.”
“Well, we can always draw the curtains and turn on a few night lights.”
“Much obliged, bel.”
“May I join you?”
“Of course, bel.”
“Scooch over a little, Fred.”
“You want me to take care of that briefcase, bel?”
She hands Lou the case and he leans it against the wall, beside him on the seat.
“That thing has the whole of 2021 in it.”
She sits down next to me and addresses Lou.
“Where have you been?”
“I went South for a while.”
“Oh, back home huh?”
“Used to be, at least.”
“Used to be?”
“Polluted with politics.”
“It’s like acid rain.”
“It sure is Fred, gets into every conversation and eats away the good feeling.”
Lou stares at his plate and cracks open the golden batter to reveal white fish.
He pushes it aside and puts his fork down.
Bel, is Steve going to join us?”
“Well, he doesn’t know I am here.”
“You cruising bel?”
Bel pulls out her phone and reads a text.
“Looks like my lunch date stood me up!”
“A rendezvous, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“When did you start dating again?”
“I do this every year.”
“And Steve doesn’t know?”
Bel bursts out laughing. Lou looks back down at his plate.
“Our tax lady buys me lunch every year but this year she is delayed by traffic on I95 and she’s still an hour away.”
“It’s a little dark to do tax work in here.”
“We just talk, Fred.”
“Are you that interested in tax law?”
“No, not at all. That’s what we pay Jhumpa for.”
“Okay, this is friendship!”
“That’s right. We met in line to see, Soldier Saylor Tinker Spy.”
“I am a LeCarre fan too. Did you like the movie?”
“Not so much as the old BBC production.”
“Yes, Alec Guinness!”
“George Smiley.”
Lou sips his beer ignoring his remaining ocean fish.
“What are you two talking about?”
“A spy novel, Lou. I don’t think it’s your thing.”
“You are right there, bel. Why don’t you call Steve and invite him over. I am buying.”
“Lou, you are a friend indeed, I’ll have a cobb salad and a cup of hot tea.”
“Fred, you see Sam, anywhere?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Is Steve alright?”
“He has a new computer.”
“Say no more!”
“Yes, last time I got a new one I spent hours on the tech lines.”
“Fred, you’re not alone there.”
“I know, the tech lines are always loaded with an exceptionally high volume of calls.”
Bel shakes her head and looks back at Lou. Sam stops by and offers bel a menu.
“Anything for starters Ma’am?”
“No thanks, I’ll have a Cobb salad and hot tea.”
“Coming right up Ma’am.”
Sam asks us if we want anything more. We don’t and he walks off to get bel’s order.
“Lou, what made you go south at this time of year?”
“Friends and relatives, you know.”
“Wasn’t it kind of hot and stormy?”
“It’s cooler than California!”
“It was 116 F in Sacramento the other day.”
“Augie must be cooked!”
“Oh yeah, Lou, he lives near the city, doesn’t he?”
“I never knew him well.”
“Do we ever know anyone?”
“Sure, Fred and me, go back about, ah, how many years?”
“Don’t say it!”
“Over forty years since our L.C. days.”
“What is L.C., Lou?”
“That’s Library of Congress, where Fred and I Xeroxed library books and periodicals for Congressmen and their staff.”
“And for not a few term papers, I’ll bet!”
“Well, I had no idea!”
Sam brings bel’s salad and tea. She thanks him as she dips the teabag into her cup.
Having finished with his fish polygon, Lou is picking up skinny French fries one at a time.
“I would say we know each other pretty well.”
“I would say you recognize each other pretty well.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well, how many of us really know ourselves?”
“That’s a tough question, bel!”
“It is. Think what it takes to do that.”
“Self-reflection helps a lot.”
Lou bites on a long thin fry letting the end stick out of his lips like a toothpick.
“Some of us don’t go there.”
“Yes, you might say there is a spectrum, as we call it now.”
“A spectrum of what, Fred?”
“How about, inner light?”
“You mean some people don’t flip the switch?”
“Some of us find no need, while others are habitually introspective.”
“Okay bel, so what do you think it means to know another person?”
“Don’t you think it’s growing expectations as time goes by?”
“Right, that’s what we know.”
“That’s it. It’s about our expectations of the other.”
“I think some of us are strangers to ourselves.”
“You mean like, they’re lost, Fred?”
“I mean people who are unreflective.”
“Oh, they don’t want to know!”
Bel looks up from her salad.
“Yes, that’s very telling.”
“It depends on how you’re wired.”
“True! for example, I don’t think Albrecht, is introspective
while Daisy is intensely inward.”
Lou is down to his last fry. The fish remains in several pieces.
“Daisy is an artist. It goes with the territory.”
“Yes and Albrecht is mainly political. Daisy hardly ever goes there.”
“So, what does that tell you, bel?”
“Albrecht is outwardly oriented, and Daisy looks in.”
“Do you think all artists are introspective?”
“They have to be to find their art.”
“Okay, but that is different from being self-reflective in other areas.”
“For example?”
“I think Picasso was a monster but also an artist.”
“Yes, he has been called an ‘Art Monster’.”
“He is only one, among many, Fred.”
“Who coined that one?”
“I remember reading it somewhere, but not who wrote it.”
Lou empties his beer.
“Bel, you seem to think we never know each other.”
“I think custom and habit tell the most.”
“How about close friends pouring their hearts out to each other?”
“So much depends on trust.”
“Yeah, I have met plenty of people I wouldn’t want to know my business!”
“Of course! And we must trust ourselves too.”
“Oh, as in, what dare I say?”
“Or, Lou, even what do I dare to think?”
“Right, I got beat up by an insight after Tilda took off.”
“There you are, Lou.”
“I am?”
“The Buddhists say, ‘we are coming into being at every moment.”
“Fluidity!”
“That’s how I see it, Fred.”
Lou tilts his empty glass, waiting for a last drop to collect.
“Coming into being, huh”?
