Cogitor, Ergo Sum
Vera sauntered down the street again, mildly miffed at being put off, but the minister had been receptive to her ideas, and he did make her feel appreciated. Deciding against the McDonald’s across the street (“fast” food was of no immediate interest to her), and ruling out the Italian restaurant now coming up on her right (there would be almost no one in there at this hour), she settled on Louie’s, the down-home greasy spoon two blocks up ahead, as likely to be full of neighborhood faces and even slower than usual because of rush hour.
A small two-chair table was unoccupied on the left, near the long side of the L-shaped counter. Vera took the chair facing the crowded center of the room. In seconds she spotted her one-time car mechanic (in November she had got rid of her car as an unnecessary expense) sipping coffee at the long side of the counter. His blue overalls bore the traces of countless generations of grease, and she remembered his pudgy fingers as permanently stained with grime. She fixed him with her eyes until he turned and noticed her. She smiled and as if on impulse waved for him to come and join her. Nodding, he picked up his coffee cup and strutted on down to the chair opposite her. There was grease even in his straggly brown beard and a grit-smear on his thick, stubby nose.
“Long time no see,” he said predictably. “Ain’t you gettin’ yourself another car?”
“A car makes no sense since I live only a half mile away from my job. How’re things?”
“Good, good.”
“How’s your partner Jimmy doing these days?” She was surprised to hear herself asking about her most recent ex-lover.
“Jimmy’s working at another garage now. How’s things by you, Vera?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“That’s good.”
“You off work now?” she asked. She saw his eyes flicker furtively over her white blouse, licking at her breasts.
“In a little while.”
“Come on over to my place. I’ve got some beer and you can watch TV.” She looked steadily into his eyes, not permitting a single blink to reveal her own amazement at what she had just heard herself say.
He stammered something unintelligible. His sweat-smell was overpowering. “Look at me,” he said, smiling weakly.
“Shower at my place,” she answered, her grip on his eyes unwavering. “You remember my building, right?... Apartment 4-B.”
“I’ll see. I don’t know. I have to finish up-”
“Six-thirty. That gives you plenty of time to finish up.” She knew she could dawdle at Louie’s over dinner and be home shortly before he arrived. “Six-thirty. Promise?”
“I don’t know. I guess… I’ll try.”
