He mercifully and subtly shifts a bit. “Speaking of crying at the movies, one of my mom’s favorite stories is how her parents took her to seeE.T., and they were supposed to go out to dinner after, at my aunt’s tapas place, but my mom couldn’t stop crying for forty-five minutes after the credits, so they had to go home.” He grins. “To this day, she has never watched it again and can’t even talk about it without getting emotional.”
“Not sure whether I’m more intrigued by your mom or your aunt. I’m on board with this becauseE.T.about ripped out my guts—I’ve also never been able to watch it a second time—and tapas is one of the best things ever.”
“It is,” he agrees. “Especially back then, there weren’t many places.” Before I can respond, he offers, “My late uncle’s wife is from Spain, and it’s so random to have her kind of authentic dining in Nowhere, Maine, but they’ve done great since day one. I mean, there’s clearly no competition.”
“Late uncle?” I ask. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. My mom’s brother. Horrible. But it’s been so great how close my family has stayed with his wife.” He sighs and laughs a bit. “None of us speak Spanish, and she barely speaks English, but we all somehow have such a great bond. Even myuncle didn’t speak more than a few words, but they seemed to do well with translating shit on their phones. They had this wildly romantic and loving relationship.”
While stuffing my face with chips and guac, I get a text from Patrick and startle.
Patrick:Bad car accident. Hit head. Pickle truck. Am okay. Smell garlicky.
My texts back aren’t returned. I try his wife, Katrina, and also get no reply.
But that seems reasonable, given the circumstances.
Dave sees me tense, but doesn’t press me. Just waits until I can talk.
It’d be easy to say nothing, to hide it from this near stranger, but I tell him about this concerning text. “Patrick seems to have had a car accident involving, of all things, a pickle truck. What even is a pickle truck? I’ll text RobBob. See if he has more info.”
“RobBob?” he asks. “That is not possibly someone’s name.”
“It is actually. Well, sort of.” I grin. “Robert and Patrick went to grade school together, and after high school graduation, he met Patrick’s group of work friends, they asked if he wanted to be called Rob or Bob. And he said either name was cool. So, he got stuck with both. Now he’s RobBob. We’ve hung out a bunch, and he’s super fun.”
“That’s a pretty cool nickname, and I might be jealous,” Dave says. “Text this character. Maybe he’ll give me a better nickname.”
“Already done. And New Friend Dave isn’t doing it for you?”
“Not so much.” His pause is cute. “Or rather, thefriendpart isn’t really doing it for me.”
I’m glad to hear that.
“Obviously, more importantly, maybe he can update you about Patrick and how bad this pickle accident was.”
“Guess I’m about to find out,” I say as my phone sounds with a FaceTime call from this now-discussed guy.
“Oh, hello!” He’s all smiles as he looks past me and wiggles his eyebrows with no subtlety. “I heard about New Friend Dave. That must be you!”
His dramatic pointing is classically over-the-top stuff, and I stifle a laugh.
“And you must be RobBob! My nickname nemesis,” Dave quips.
My friend feigns horror. “I’m someone’s nemesis?”
“RobBob is awaybetter name.” Dave fake sulks.
I have to break up this stupid fake fight. “How is Patrick? All I know is that he was in some kind of an accident. With a pickle truck?”
“Don’t know much more than you do. I just got a confusing call from him. Yeah, he also mentioned something about pickles. Of course Patrick would have a weird accident like this, right!” He chuckles. “He seemed out of it, as anyone would, but I assume he’s okay. Just groggy. No doubt that he was wearing a seat belt, so I think he’s just beat up, but I’m heading to the hospital now. Still waiting to hear back from Katrina.”
He promises to keep me posted, and I hang up, mostly relieved. Car accidents are too common, and with so many features these days, people get banged up and bruised all the time with no dire consequences. This is likely just that.
While this was not how I’d have wanted to reconnect with Patrick’s buddy, it is nice to talk with him again.
Then, too soon, I get another text that makes me shudder.
RobBob:Patrick has a brain bleed and needs surgery.
