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Sonny arrivesat our booth with a massive pizza topped with meatballs. It’s ginormous. And it smells delicious, all tomatoey and spicy and terribleforme.
‘Howyoudoin?’ Seth says to the pizza, an eyebrow raised flirtatiously. He picks up the pizza slicer and separates it into slices. ‘You lookin’realfine.’
Chuckling, I pick up a slice. It’s all doughy and heavy, the slice drooping in my hand, cheese sliding precariously totheleft.
‘Hold it like this!’ Seth folds it slightly at the end. ‘Trust me, I am a pizzaexpert.’
I follow Seth’s instructions and take asmallbite.
Oh.
Oh.
I take another, bigger bite, the salted tomato sauce bursting with flavour in my mouth, combined with the gooeycheese.
‘Oh my god,’ I whisper. ‘Great Scott! Meatballs. On pizza.Fuckyes.’
Seth looks me in the eye, nodding slowly, chewing down on another mouthful. ‘Fuck.Yes.’
We go quiet while we munch down. At home I try to keep my meal choices simple and healthy – rice and veggies, chicken salads, lentil soup. Right now I realise I have been an idiot the whole time. I should have just been eating meatball pizza myentirelife.
I’m just finishing up my last slice when the alarm goes off on my phone. I wipe my tomatoey mouth with a paper napkin, and pull my phone out of my satchel to turn thealarmoff.
‘Time to go!’ I say, folding the napkin and placing it neatly on top of myplate.
‘You set an alarm?’ Seth asksincredulously.
‘Of course!’ I say, patting my stomach in satisfaction. ‘I can’t miss the next ferry? I really do need to get to WallStreet.’
‘Fair enough,’ Seth says, looking slightly disappointed. When he goes to the bar to settle the bill, I double- and triple-check that I have the letter in my satchel. I do. I definitely have it. It’s right there and it’s not going anywhere except for right into Chuck’shands.
I pull my umbrella out in anticipation of the rainy walk back to theterminal.
When Seth’s paid and hugged Phyllis and Sonny goodbye, I call out my thanks for a delicious meal, drain the last of my beer and head tothedoor.
As I step out of the bar and flip open my umbrella, the wind blows so fiercely that it turns completelyinsideout.
Argh!
I yelp, trying to wrestle my brolly back into shape, meanwhile getting absolutely soaked through by rainfall that feels like someone chucking a bucket of water overmyhead.
‘Help!’ I yell as I grapple with the umbrella, ducking as one of the spokes almost stabs me intheboob.
Seth appears behind me, mouth agape at the state of the sky. He grabs the top of the parasol and yanks hard, but the wind howls past us so quickly that it’s no use. This isn’t wind. It’ssuperwind.
Across the street my eyes widen, horrified, as a wooden gate opens and closes so furiously that it almost comes off its hinges. I try once more to make the umbrella work. I turn into the gale and hold the edges, but before I can stop it, it flies open again and hits Seth in the eyebrow. Shit! His eyebrow is bleeding. I’ve maimed him! I’ve maimed him with my umbrella!Ohno!
