To each his own

TONGUE ON RYE

 

It took a long time for Roger to convince me to start dating again.
One broken marriage filled with fights and foul language was enough for me. Two were more than enough. My first Ex, Lola,  got custody of our three year old daughter for 6 days and nights of the week. She also got our house, my Jag and half of our joint bank accounts...and all the jewelry I gave her for five years. What did I get? Debts and misery.

 

While meaning well, my buddy, Roger's  set-ups stink. Pretty, vivacious and dumb or fair looking, smart and way too fat just doesn't work. I stay home a lot reading books I always meant to read but didn't. I've just about covered Hemingway and hit upon the old genius, Mark Twain, in the main library. Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, easy, light. They were great pals. Roger and I were, too. Now we are iffy. I try Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged again and still can't understand a damn thing she wrote. That one I closed on page 150 and wasted my eyes on that much.

 

Once a week I meet Roger at Johanson's Crab Shanty or Millie's Doll House. They take care of my natural urges.

 

One day and night a week I spend with my darling daughter, Adeline. I get so angry every time I call her that. How in the world did I let myself be talked into that name? That makes me realize I was a real hen-pecked husband who gave in to Lola's whims rather than argue. Either way, I was a loser.

 

Tonight I should be toasting Judge Reinhold for not awarding Lola any alimony. Instead, he gave me a big monthly nut to crack, $100 a week, upkeep. Adeline's medical bills are covered by my insurance so what costs $400 a week? How much does this one little child with only baby teeth in her mouth eat? How many clothes can she wear at one time? Her dolls are so fruitful, they have babies. Life isn't treating me well.

 

Roger is a true friend even though he gets on my nerves more often than  before my marriage hit the fan. Today's call is about the 'dish' he wants me to try. I tell him I prefer Johanson's to see if the soft shell crabs are arriving yet. 'Loosen up, Pal. Bonnie is a winner. I've checked her out carefully with Jack Fine. He rates her A-1, smart, pretty, athletic, 5'8",  knowledgeable about politics, art, music, no drugs, a wine now and then. Give ger a try, Hal. She has a two bedroom apartment on 5th and Madison. Jack vouches for her cooking, too. Call her, 470-2517.  'Roger, that's enough about Bonnie. If's she's so great why is he passing her around?' Roger thinks about that a minute and actually sees my point. He pats me on my back and tells me to forget her.

 

That should be the end of that but it isn't. I go to bed at eleven, wake at twelve, one, two and get up, turn on the t.v. disappear in dreamland from four until seven. I decide to call Bonnie in the evening. She has heard about me and would love to get together soon. I'm not quite soaring on angel wings yet, but her voice is soft, pleasant, soothing. 'How about Thursday, lunch. Where do you work?' Bonnie springs this on me, 'I don't have to work. I am involved totally doing volunteer work whenever, wherever I'm needed. Thursday is clear.' How's Mike and Ike's Delly on 6th and Preston? Noon? Whoever gets there first stand close to the bakery department. We'll know each other.' I'm pleased but concerned. She is sort of strong, maybe too strong, a rein holder for sure.

 

'Hey, Roger. I've got a lunch date Thursday with the Bonnie Jack was selling. She selected Mike and Ike's, didn't give me a chance to say okay or nay.  'Sure, that's a good place. Ike was Ike Solomon, original owner and Mike Feinberg, partner, her Dad.' Eats are great. Fill me in at night.'

 

I reach the delly at 11:55, walk over to the bakery department and see a beauty checking out the service. Everything goes smoothly. We are seated quickly at a table to the left that isn't scrunched between others. Our waiter says hello to her and introduces himself to me.'I'm Doug, been here a long time. Whatever you want, we will have it.' He walks away. I love their lean corned beef sandwiches with Russian dressing and am about to give my choice to Doug, when Bonnie tells him to bring me a tongue on rye.' 'You'll enjoy it, Hal.' I instantly feel ill. Tongue on a roll, on an English muffin on anything sends my belly into fits. It is foolish, I've been told, but something about seeing a cow slaughtered, its tongue hanging out, being sliced and put on rye is about as horrible a thought as I can imagine.  My stomach is roiling. I am as close to vomiting as the last time I got drunk. I start taking deep, slow breaths which frighten Bonnie. She suggests I go see a doctor and call her another time. I apologize, take out my wallet to pay for our lunches and she pooh poohs it away.

 

The last I hear her say is, 'If you need a good consultant, an internist, let me know. My Uncle Maish is a whiz.'