Chapter 3 #3
“Yep.” I cannot contain my grin. “Patrick here was with me in Boston, and he was not exactly experienced with the subway system. This moron was leaning his head over the tracks to watch the T as it came racing toward our stop. I literally had to pull him back and save him from being crushed into body shards. Into smithereens!” I shriek.
Patrick rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I would’ve stepped back. Look, I don’t use the weird subways at home. I dunno …”
“You would have had your head smashed in. So, I saved your life, and the deal we made was that you’d owe me. And I’d get to make you do all the weird things. We agreed!”
“Fine, we did agree.” He eyes my drink and knows what I’m loving. “Okay, Mai Tai Di, name your price.”
“You’re in the supermarket now?”
“Yes.”
Just for fun, I enunciate my words. “Ask anyone there where you can find food to feed fainting goats.”
Patrick groans. “Noooo! This is too weird!”
“What is happening?” Dave asks.
I explain this weirdness with a beaming smile and nearly uncontrolled laugh.
“When I say so, Patrick has to do what I tell him.” The mai tai sip I take goes down well.
“Usually, a public thing because that’s the most embarrassing and entertaining.
And he and I love the viral videos of goats who faint at loud noises. ”
David Googles fainting goats, and a few seconds later, he perks up from his seat. “These poor goats!”
We watch as Patrick prepares to confuse and confound Whole Foods employees.
“Be nice,” I remind him as I ready to feed him lines, if needed, like some kind of depraved Cyrano de Bergerac. But Patrick is pretty good on his own.
“Always.” He swings his basket as he enters the store and nears some unsuspecting employee arranging pears. “Do you have food for fainting goats?” he asks gently.
“Sorry, what for what?”
“Food.” Patrick pauses to compose himself. “Fainting goats have special nutritional requirements.”
It’s hard, but Dave and I stifle our laughter.
Yet Patrick continues on, “Like, food that will stop the goats from fainting when they hear loud sounds. Carrots? Like, maybe mangoes or artichokes?”
“Sir, I really don’t know—”
“Aha! I remember now! It’s a mix of Greek yogurt, gooseberries, and Halloumi cheese. I shall soldier on and find what I need!”
“Tell him, ‘Thank you, good sir,’ ” I instruct.
Patrick clearly suppresses a sigh. “Thank you, good sir!”
“Tell him to have a blessed day,” I add.
“Have a blessed day!” He takes a few steps away and mutters to me, “And fuck you. A blessed fucking day, Diana? Really?”
“I love you,” I say with a laugh.
“Love you back,” he concedes. “And satisfied? There is no fainting-goat food, just for your information, okay? That’s not a thing. So, don’t go adopting fainting goats and asking around for special food.”
“But you made a good effort.” I give him a big smile.
“Okay, you drunk goofs. I’m off.” Patrick waves a finger at us before he ends the call. “I like you two. Keep those Mai Tais going. It’s working for you.”
I don’t disagree.
Dave doesn’t either. “I’m digging it here in Puerto Rico. Even with the mace spray to the eyes.”
“Again, it wasn’t mace.” I giggle as I curl on my side and slug down the rest of my drink through the straw.
“I like that Patrick person,” he says.
“I like him too. This wasn’t my dream vacation,” I confess.
“No?” Dave turns to meet my eyes.
“It was given to me. All paid for. I was hoping for Lisbon, or Prague, or something besides a typical tropical trip. But now that I’m here? Relaxing and being lazy in the lap of luxury is pretty fun. Maybe this was needed. The rooms are damn nice, huh?”
He looks at me so cutely. “The rooms are indeed damn nice.” Dave scoots up a bit in his lounge chair. “Know what else is nice? The menu. Have you had Puerto Rican crab?”
I shake my head.
He gently beckons over a server and places an order. “Want to eat our way through the rest of this menu?” he asks.
“Yes, I do, New Friend Dave. Yes, I do.”
And we do just that until both of us are satiated and nearing collapsing—a little bit drunk on alcohol, but mostly annihilated from the food.
“By the way, why are you on this trip alone? You said this is your tourist season. You must be missing out on big food truck sales.”
For a second, Dave looks away, just a tad uncomfortable.
“I take this week or two off every year, just to get a break from the chaos. It’s basically just me working the truck, and I don’t want to get burned out.
I have an assistant, Eric, and he can handle things when I’m gone, but I’m around people plenty, so a little quiet time is good. Solo time is good.”
I’m hesitant. “You sure I’m not interfering in that solo time?”
“Not in the least. Meet up here tomorrow night?” he asks as he licks his fingers. “Tomorrow night, I’m all yours. How about I take you out of this resort and we visit some off-the-beaten-path stuff? The food at this hotel is pretty sick, but I think you’d appreciate the real stuff.”
“Street food?” I ask.
“Of course. Hole-in-the wall spots.”
Ah, my love language.