Trey stretches his neck side to side, releasing some tension built at the top of his spine.

“It’ll be another thirty to forty minutes.” The sturdy, bleach blonde hostess apologizes, “Our kitchen’s backed up.”

The tired man drops down on a bench and starts reviewing messages. One in all caps cracks a smile on his taxed face: SAUSAGE ON HALF ONLY, DAD! Alana had adopted vegetarianism last month after watching a documentary in her health class. Trey shakes his head at the capricious nature of that decision, though he’s a little proud she’s kept it up.

The lawyer stares ahead, falling into non-thought. He doesn’t think about this clause, or whether that claim reads on prior art. He doesn’t even think of his daughter’s soccer tournament or his wife’s job promotion. He needs a moment of nothing. A man at the booth across from him waves. Trey recognizes his next door neighbor. He rises to approach the table, mustering congeniality along the way.  

“Kolya! When’d you get back?” He asks in strapping baritone.

“Two nights ago!” exclaims a melodious, slightly shrill inflection. “Sit! How’ve you been?”–he waves down the waitress–“What do you want to drink?”  

“Just water. Thanks.” Trey observes the film producer’s glowing complexion. “How was your trip? Doesn’t look like they worked you too hard, you look great.”

“It must be the vegan diet Zanne’s got us on.”

“You kept that up even in Shanghai?”

“How’s Eve? I saw she’s cut her hair,” Kolya switches topics, as is characteristic of him. 

“She decided to go short.” Trey reflects on his wife’s resolve, “It looks great.”

A slender, short-haired waitress arrives with a glass of water and a large plate of steak and eggs. Trey stares at the gaping mistake.

“Don’t tell my wife,” Kolya says to the girl, igniting her high-pitched laughter.

Trey watches his neighbor cut into the porterhouse, taking big bites with generous gulps of liquor like a ravenous teenage boy.

“Well, you do look good. Younger…” he comments.

Kolya stops eating and looks up. “Would you like to know how that is?”

“What’s your secret?”

Kolya states plainly, “I met someone.”

Trey wasn’t expecting that. “Is everything all right with Suzanne?”

“Love her more than ever.” The producer says as if it’s a completely separate matter, “I met someone overseas.”

“An associate?”

“No. The fruit girl. She sold peaches.”

“You fell in love with a girl who sells peaches?”

Kolya nods jauntily. “She was very pretty: long eyes, burnt cheeks, small, pointed chin. But that’s not what got me…”

Trey calls for the server, and his friend goes on, “Beautiful women are everywhere, especially in LA–no matter what your type, you can find first-rates here.”

Trey orders a drink from their lithe, boyish waitress with the protruding bottom lip.

“I love my wife, but every once in awhile I meet a bombshell. Completely different and irresistible.”

A stout, athletic woman with waist-length dark hair passes, and Trey admires her figure.  

“However, I’d never been unfaithful before.”

Kolya says this while devouring red meat and liquor. His attorney friend smiles, “So you do have some degree of self-control.”

“It has nothing to do with discipline,” Kolya asserts, “The moment these nymphs open their mouths, I’m turned off. They’re… agitated. And hungry. There’s always an underlying need: a movie role, a BMW, a ring. And even the intellectual types, ones with doctorates–they’re nonstop discussion of politics or modern art, stuffed with these conceptions and ideas.”

“And this girl was, what?–Vapid?”

Kolya smiles at the quip. He finishes chewing. “The fruit stand was between my hotel and office. It wasn’t until the third day that my senses started clearing from jetlag and air pollution, and I noticed bright pink and white peaches. Shanghai’s known for shui mi peaches. When I pay, this cute girl receives my cash, leaving a warm impression, but I forget her by the time I get to work.” He cuts another narrow piece of meat. “I pass the stand the next day and remember how good the peaches were, so I get a bag of hard white peaches for the office. I take out my wallet, and the girl looks at me like I’m an idiot,” he remarks. “It caught me off guard. I hadn’t felt awkward or silly in a long time. She fills another bag with soft peaches, so soft the skin might rub off. I ask amusedly, ‘I picked wrong?’ She answers, ‘You were wrong yesterday, too,’ and her laugh is sweet and simple, unlike that played out aspartamey giggle you get in metropolitan areas.”

The blonde hostess interrupts, touching Trey’s shoulder. “It’ll be about 40 minutes. We had to relight the oven.” She sets down his drink, displaying fleshy breasts through a plunging neckline. “On the house. So sorry about that!”

Trey announces his irritably while she’s still in hearing range, “Would you believe she said that to me 20 minutes ago?” He looks at his watch. “Friend, you have 40 minutes to finish your story.”

Kolya speaks faster, in a more relaxed, animated manner. “Anyway, her attitude was attractive. She was kind without overt flirtation. I guess you could say she was professional. And she wasn’t deprived. She was content at her fruit stand, and we communicated on an even level somehow. It could’ve easily been an innocent friendship if it weren’t for the fact I found her sexy. Rustic as she was, she had a slender neck, plump, white arms and beautiful hands. Her movements were soft but not timid. She was a thorough diversion, and I went there every morning.”

“What’d you do with all the peaches?”

“I gave them to clients, the reception, even custodians!”

“Your office must’ve thought you were a saint.”

“They were mistaken.”

“So, you took her out?”

“Yeah. On my second to last day, she’s picking another bag, I give her a bill, and the motions feel silly. ‘You know I don’t need any more peaches,’ I say. She smiles involuntarily and looks away. I couldn’t help it. I ask, ‘What are you doing tonight?’ and her expression changes. I’m afraid I’ve offended her. ‘Have you heard of the restaurant Hua Ma Tian Tang?’ I say coolly. ‘I’d like to try it, but I don’t have friends here. Do you have any interest in being a dining partner, and interpreter?’ She responds, ‘The staff must speak better English than I do.’ I shrug. ‘It’s just a friendly thought, and a favor to me. You can think about it.’ I stop by again after work, and honestly, I’m tired. I’m indifferent to her response, because I might just order room service. But she gives me an evaluative look and agrees to be an interpreter, so we plan to meet there at eight. When my cab pulls up to the restaurant, she’s already talking to the valet.” Kolya pauses and casts a dramatic, nostalgic gaze. “She’s in a lavender dress, and she looks incredible… It’s proven to me now, indisputably, that money is no measure of taste,” Kolya states with an air of gentility. 

The small man resumes his brisk cadence. “I have her look at the menu. I was there on business the night before and already knew the best dishes, but I was curious to see how she’d pick. I naturally assumed the quality of food and environment would impress her. However, she kept guarded. She was appreciative, but not grateful, and most annoyingly, she was focused on being an interpreter. At the time, I didn’t want anything more than to gain her favor, but I was determined.” He wipes off crumbs from the table. “I take her for ice cream, we walk along the beach, and I go in at a different angle. I confess that I’m a little sad to return home; ‘It’s hard to admit this, but I’ve felt relief the past few days,’ I say, struggling. She flashes her eyes and asks why. ‘A complicated web’s woven for me there… Every action has an objective–it’s just how people are. Simple meals with friends end in favor requests. My wife chooses charities based on lobby groups, and she strategizes my son’s playdates. I’m not sure that she loves me, or that she’s just fixated on making her marriage work.'” Kolya says to Trey, “Ian might be held back for literacy issues. Can you believe that?” He admits, “I’m angry at myself for not noticing sooner. And I’m absolutely infuriated at myself for being ashamed. I’m ashamed of my son, that he could have a disability.”

Trey had general knowledge of the facts, but he didn’t know what lies beneath them. He looks at his friend and sits in silent solidarity.

Kolya drinks. “She looks at me with soft, morose eyes. I knew then that I had her. I ask about her dreams and passions. She tells me her plans of expanding the fruit stand to offer dessert. The man down the street sells tapioca milk dessert using canned fruit. I ask why she doesn’t collaborate with him. She tells me that since she has the best peaches, she will need the freshest milk and the perfect tapioca–he doesn’t have either. ‘Ah,’ I remark, ‘and you’d charge a premium?’ But she corrects my confusion. The price of the dessert is five yuan everywhere, and no one would pay more without a storefront. At this point, melted ice cream runs down to her elbow, and she bends back her arm to lick it off with her large tongue. I can’t take it.

‘What?’ she says.

‘How is it you’re so clever, and so attractive?’

She smiles but sees through me.

‘You must think I’m silly,” I say. “I’m infatuated by meaningless ranks, I make cheap entertainment for profit’s sake. Do you think I lack passion?’

She answers, ‘Yes. But it can come back.’

I tell her I feel good around her. She says nothing and bites into her cone, so I remove it from her and lick cold cream from her lips.”

Kolya, finished with his meal, sits back. “We make love,” he states unaffectedly. “She goes to rinse the sand from her hair, and I get dressed. As I’m putting on my sock, I’m overcome by sudden loathing. Ten years I’d been faithful to my wife, and I discard it for some juvenile, simple girl who will probably never leave a 200 mile radius of this beach. I feel duped. I’d believed in her wholeness and her purity, ‘but she’s like the rest,’ I think. She could easily marry a hard-working, handsome boy from her hometown. Even a college graduate or small business owner if she keeps a clean reputation. Yet she sleeps with a married, foreign film producer. If she were serious about getting anything done, she’d cut her risk and work with the dessert seller a few stands down. But she’s unrealistic, and she wants to climb, like every other stupid young girl. I feel I might release my anger on her, so I leave. I go back to my room, watch half an hour of international news and order a glass of warm milk before going to bed.”

Kolya looks to Trey with an exposed and rancorous expression. “You must think I’m heartless.”

Trey finishes his drink. “Actually, I think you’re a romantic,” he says dryly, “Who believes there’s a story to life.” Spotting the waitress with his food, Trey stands. “Eve and I are able to make it to dinner this Sunday, by the way.”

His friend smiles. “I’ll let Zanne know.”

Trey moves toward the exit. 

“Trey.” Kolya says contemplatively.

Trey looks back at him.

“Keep me posted about Viewpoint Elementary, will you?”

“Right, right. Eve’s having lunch with the admissions counselor on Wednesday.”

“Thank you,” Kolya says with full sincerity.

 

—

 

Trey secures the pizza and large salads in his passenger seat. He pulls out of the restaurant parking lot, and his phone rings.

A firm, husky voice, “Your family is starving, T.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you already had a pot roast in the oven for me?”

“You know I’m not that kind of wife.”

Trey laughs. “I’m on my way. I ran into Kolya, actually.”

“That’s nice. How was his trip?”

“It went well. You know how he is. I ask him about his day, and he gives me a five-act oral presentation.”

Eve giggles. “Let me guess: he was swimming in red meat and alcohol, too, despite Zanne’s efforts.”

“No, actually, he stuck to the diet.”

“Is that so?” She says, impressed. “Well, I can’t wait to eat way too much sausage pizza, so hurry home. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”