Intrusions by Ursula Hegi

Author:Ursula Hegi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Touchstone

79

Backing out of the garage, she remembered the dinner she had not wanted to send back two months ago. They had gone out to dinner on Valentine’s Day to the new restaurant that had opened in two plush dining cars from an old train. She had ordered curried lamb on a bed of rice.

The train was drafty. She felt sorry for the waiter, an elderly man who walked quickly with a stoop. His eyes were watery; while taking their order he coughed twice.

“You want my jacket?” Nick asked her.

“But then you’d be cold.”

“I’m warm enough. Here, take it for a while at least.”

He got up and laid the jacket around her shoulders: it kept the draft away. It must be awful to work in such a cold place.

The food took forever to come. When the waiter finally walked through the swinging door several feet behind Nick, a clear drop of liquid fell like a tear from his nose into the curried lamb. He seemed to be unaware of it, because he was watching where he was going, a pathetic old man, smiling apologetically while saying he hoped they hadn’t minded waiting so long. What in heaven’s name was she going to do?

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” the pathetic thin old man asked, bowing humbly.

Numbly, she shook her head.

“No, thank you,” said Nick and began to eat.

Her stomach felt like a fist.

“Enjoy your dinner,” the waiter said and left.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Nick asked.

If only she were one hundred percent certain where it had landed. Maybe she could eat around it. God. She felt ill at her thought. But what if Nick made him take the food back? What if the sick old man lost his job because of her?

“My stomach is sort of queasy. I don’t think I can eat.”

He frowned and stopped chewing his filet mignon.

“Nick? Will you promise not to do something?”

“Not to do what?”

Haltingly, she told him.

“I think we should send it back,” he said. “That is, if you are sure you saw a drop from his nose fall into your food.”

Never again would she eat lamb.

“I think I saw it.” She looked away from the moist meat. Suddenly she understood vegetarians. “But I can’t really prove it. And what if they fired him? I don’t want to send it back. I couldn’t eat anyhow after this. They’d probably insist on fixing another dinner, and who knows what would happen to that in the kitchen. Maybe the chef has cholera or hepatitis.”

“Thanks a lot.” He put his fork down.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

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