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Authors: Rich Marcello
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cold and couldn’t shake it.
“Let me finish my tea. Then we can go.”
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER 4
Doubt inched in to stay as Sassa made her way to Allen’s deli. Nick was holding something back. But what? An affair. With a musician at work? Had he tired of her? Or an old deep secret that would end things if she found out? It had to be something big; otherwise, he would tell her.
Maybe lunch with Sarah would help sort through things. She’d become close friends with her over the years; they’d been hired around the same time at DiPosto and had put in many long hours together, slaving at the mercy of the executive chef. A couple of years earlier, they had discovered they both loved deli food and had agreed to regular, almost religious lunch dates every other week at Allen’s.
Sassa arrived in front of the deli first. A moment later, Sarah waved to her from a couple of blocks down Houston Street. Much smaller than Sassa and with short black hair, dark skin, and the most comfortable-in-her-own-skin smile Sassa had ever seen, Sarah had known from a young age that she would become a chef. From her love of food, she carried her few extra pounds with grace. From early expertise, commonsense wisdom had grown. Sassa had grown to trust her. After a warm greeting, they navigated their way through the long, narrow restaurant—past the hundreds of pictures of famous patrons, past the chef’s carving pastrami, corned beef, and brisket like they were gold—and settled at a table in the back of Allen’s.
Without looking at the menu Sarah said, “I feel like pastrami and scrambled eggs on a bagel.”
“You know, I’m going traditional today. Corned beef on rye with lots of mustard and extra bread.”
“So how are you?”
“Fine, sort of, but I could use your advice on something.”
“Absolutely.”
Sassa studied the menu even though she had already decided what she wanted. The matzo ball soup. The Reuben. The knishes. The potato latke. The blueberry cheesecake. There were so many items, and they were all served quickly with high quality. What a difference from her Diposto routine. Life was short. Speed and variety were keys.
“Things have been solid with Nick these past eleven months. In so many ways, it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.”
“And the sex?”
“Why do you always start there?”
“Easier to fix things when that part is okay.”
Sassa twirled a strand of hair with her fingers. Unlike many of her female friends, she’d never been comfortable talking about sex. It was much better to be publicly modest and privately wild. She didn’t want anyone other than Nick to know that one of her favorite things was to spend all day in bed exploring, repeating, losing herself. And while all-dayers were part of their story, their relationship was much more than physical. He made her comfortable. He made her laugh. Until recently, he understood her better than anyone. “He’s more giving than any other man I’ve been with.”
“And?”
“And I feel like he’s holding something back. I’m not sure what he’s hiding, but I’m sure I’m right. He’s been on edge lately.”
“Best to trust your intuition then. Can you ask him?”
She couldn’t. Why not? They’d talked about so many things and they’d always tackled them head on. Truth warriors. But not with this one. Why? Because they’d lost some of their bliss. What if gradually losing bliss was inevitable, part of the slow decline that happens to everyone? Better to end quickly and move on. “I’m afraid.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Thank you, Ms. Therapist.”
“Sorry.”
“Like I want to run away.”
“I get that one.”
Sarah passed Sassa a bowl of sweet and sour pickles. She picked out a plump one and took a bite. The best pickles in the world. A waiter came over to their table, took their order, scurried off.
“I’m kind of scared Nick possesses some dark secret that
“Let me finish my tea. Then we can go.”
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER 4
Doubt inched in to stay as Sassa made her way to Allen’s deli. Nick was holding something back. But what? An affair. With a musician at work? Had he tired of her? Or an old deep secret that would end things if she found out? It had to be something big; otherwise, he would tell her.
Maybe lunch with Sarah would help sort through things. She’d become close friends with her over the years; they’d been hired around the same time at DiPosto and had put in many long hours together, slaving at the mercy of the executive chef. A couple of years earlier, they had discovered they both loved deli food and had agreed to regular, almost religious lunch dates every other week at Allen’s.
Sassa arrived in front of the deli first. A moment later, Sarah waved to her from a couple of blocks down Houston Street. Much smaller than Sassa and with short black hair, dark skin, and the most comfortable-in-her-own-skin smile Sassa had ever seen, Sarah had known from a young age that she would become a chef. From her love of food, she carried her few extra pounds with grace. From early expertise, commonsense wisdom had grown. Sassa had grown to trust her. After a warm greeting, they navigated their way through the long, narrow restaurant—past the hundreds of pictures of famous patrons, past the chef’s carving pastrami, corned beef, and brisket like they were gold—and settled at a table in the back of Allen’s.
Without looking at the menu Sarah said, “I feel like pastrami and scrambled eggs on a bagel.”
“You know, I’m going traditional today. Corned beef on rye with lots of mustard and extra bread.”
“So how are you?”
“Fine, sort of, but I could use your advice on something.”
“Absolutely.”
Sassa studied the menu even though she had already decided what she wanted. The matzo ball soup. The Reuben. The knishes. The potato latke. The blueberry cheesecake. There were so many items, and they were all served quickly with high quality. What a difference from her Diposto routine. Life was short. Speed and variety were keys.
“Things have been solid with Nick these past eleven months. In so many ways, it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.”
“And the sex?”
“Why do you always start there?”
“Easier to fix things when that part is okay.”
Sassa twirled a strand of hair with her fingers. Unlike many of her female friends, she’d never been comfortable talking about sex. It was much better to be publicly modest and privately wild. She didn’t want anyone other than Nick to know that one of her favorite things was to spend all day in bed exploring, repeating, losing herself. And while all-dayers were part of their story, their relationship was much more than physical. He made her comfortable. He made her laugh. Until recently, he understood her better than anyone. “He’s more giving than any other man I’ve been with.”
“And?”
“And I feel like he’s holding something back. I’m not sure what he’s hiding, but I’m sure I’m right. He’s been on edge lately.”
“Best to trust your intuition then. Can you ask him?”
She couldn’t. Why not? They’d talked about so many things and they’d always tackled them head on. Truth warriors. But not with this one. Why? Because they’d lost some of their bliss. What if gradually losing bliss was inevitable, part of the slow decline that happens to everyone? Better to end quickly and move on. “I’m afraid.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Thank you, Ms. Therapist.”
“Sorry.”
“Like I want to run away.”
“I get that one.”
Sarah passed Sassa a bowl of sweet and sour pickles. She picked out a plump one and took a bite. The best pickles in the world. A waiter came over to their table, took their order, scurried off.
“I’m kind of scared Nick possesses some dark secret that
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