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“Did I say the Ritz? I meant this—”
“Shithole?”
Ruth and Rosa peered through the grimy window into the empty diner. Though it was not totally empty. A thin, almost emaciated older woman was leaning against a Formica counter next to a stand of doughnuts. Even from a distance they could see the fuzz on them.
“I’m not going in there.”
“Suit yourself, but remember, I’ve seen your kitchen.”
Now Rosa nodded, though ducks often did.
“It’s cleaner than that,” said Ruth, jerking her head toward the restaurant. “Sewers are cleaner than that. I was looking forward to eggs Benedict, not Legionnaires’ disease.”
“I’m sorry. Look, I’ll take you to the Ritz when we’ve finished here. You can have whatever you like.”
“Too right.” Now her rheumy eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘when we’ve finished here’? Why’re we here?”
Rosa’s beady eyes were on Armand. He and the duck never really saw eye to eye and today was no exception.
“We’re meeting someone.” He opened the door. Reluctantly, and not without a touch of drama, the woman and duck walked in. Ruth’s feet made a Velcro sound on the linoleum floor.
“Charming.”
“Again, I’ve been in your kitchen.”
“That happened only once, when someone flew onto the table and knocked a can of maple syrup onto the floor.”
Rosa looked at Armand as though he were the one who’d flown into the syrup.
They had their choice of tables, and Armand indicated one far from the window.
“Close to the bathrooms,” said Ruth. “Wise.”
“What do you want?” the server demanded.
Armand recognized her from the last time he’d been there. She did not recognize him. Of course, to do that, she’d have to actually look at him.
“A bottled water, please.”
“And your date?”
She’d turned to Ruth, who clearly thought she’d died and been gifted that question. But her delight changed with the next thing the server said.
“Ducks aren’t allowed. Health hazard.”
“I’m sorry,” said Ruth. “Ducks are a health hazard, but the E. coli you use as condiments isn’t?”
“Not my policy. The duck leaves.”
Armand handed her a twenty-dollar bill and said something he never thought would come out of his mouth.
“The duck stays.”
“Fine.” She squeaked away.
They were still waiting fifteen, twenty, twenty-five minutes later. But there was no bottled water and no Shona.
“This is the worst date ever,” said Ruth.
