Fall 2013 issue

nuts… Hey how’s your bisque? What’s it taste like to you?”

She leaned forward, raised the small ceramic crock to her mouth, slurped the remainder of its phosphorescent orange contents, and gingerly returned it to the round indentation in the tablecloth, leaving a smudge of Marshmallow Peep pink lipstick along the inner rim.

“Definitely a strong lobster flavor, yeah. It’s nothing like the langoustine stew the tribe served, though. But that was probably much fresher, you know? They would catch them—” “Do you think they cooked the lobster properly? Was it too rubbery? What about the consistency of the bisque itself?”

“Everything seemed fine to me.” She peered over at Jay’s bowl, “Are there even onions in there?”

“Supposedly.” He lifted his spoon from the broth and they both watched the clear brown liquid dribble, onionless, back down to the crock. The little brown ripples expanded unobstructed and crashed weakly into the container’s worn walls.

“No, no,” Kelly observed.

She sprung up from her seat into the narrow aisle, flailing her white napkin in an effort to attract the bearded waiter, currently struggling to take an elderly couple’s order two tables down. With a sigh he tucked away his pad and walked briskly toward the beacon.

“Yes, how is it I can help you, madam?”

She dropped back into her seat, “He ordered French onion soup.”

“Yes, and I—” “There are no onions in it.” The words flew out quickly. “The menu said Vidalia onions. Where are the onions?”

Jay looked down into his broth, imagining his pale baby face with a wooly beard, but the waiter pulled the crock away before he could reach a verdict.

“My apologies.” Endeavoring to be cheerful, “I’ll bring you a new bowl, one with plenty of onions, right away, sir!”

A sans-serif 14 flashed through Jay’s memory. “No, no, it’s fine—maybe if you could just remove it, from the check. We’re ready for our entrees now, anyway. And, if you could bring us a wine list please.”

The waiter shrugged and pulled a roll of thin, splotched paper from his apron, leaving it on the table in front of Jay before returning to the old couple, still in the midst of forming their orders. Jay unfurled the sheet, attempting to anchor the curled edges with his 75