Soup Like French Soup (adapted from Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants”) The cafeteria was expansive and dimly lit. The stainless steel appliances shone under the soft fluorescent bulbs, and the white walls were adorned with mounted press clippings featuring the museum’s latest charitable endeavors. Furthest from the heat lamps that warmed the artisanal thin-crust Florentine pizzas was the west wall that featured a floor-toceiling window overlooking the lush California landscape. Planes of green grass stretched for miles until they intersected with the valleys of the forested mountains in the horizon. A distinguished looking man with graying hair nursing his Santa Cruz Organic® Cranberry nectar was sitting with a twenty-something blond girl who was picking at her plate of bitter greens. It was half past noon and they were on their lunch hour. They were sitting by the window at a table next to the condiments and cutlery station. The girl set down her fork and picked up her spoon. She sat with her hand poised over her soup with the spoon. “Is that all you’re eating?” the girl gestured with her spoon at the man’s empty tray. “I am trying to eat healthy,” the man said. He turned his nectar bottle around, pushed his readers up his nose, and narrowed his eyes at the label. “150 calories per serving. That’s not bad”. “There are two servings in that bottle.”
Three engineer-types squeezed behind past the girl’s chair with their lunch trays. Her spoon, now filled with locally grown butternut squash soup, wavered before entering her painted, coral lips. “Mmm…This soup reminds me of the one we had in that hole-in-the-wall café in Provence.” “Didn’t I get sick from that place?” “You got sick because you drank too much Pernot.” “Three glasses of Pernot is nothing for someone who’s been drinking for twenty-five years. Maybe you would get sick if you drank that many.” The girl shrugged and looked out the window. “I’d like to go back there someday. The food was beautiful.” “The food in Provence is alright. The best is in Venice.” “I saw pictures of Vareeya and her husband when they were there. The gondolas are so romantic.” “The gondolas are for tourists.” “I bet you know all the good places. We should go this summer.” The man scoffed. “You know I can’t. Tom’s having me work on that SPAM account.”
“I was just suggesting. We used to talk about all the places we would go. That’s what we do, right?” “Hmm, I love this place, the idea of a cafeteria in the middle of a museum, who would’ve thought… You like your soup?” The girl swirled her spoon around the thick, amber liquid. The finely chopped fines herbs swim around in the butternut whirlpool. “Yes, it’s quite nice.” “It’s really such a straightforward procedure, Dee”. The man continued, “In fact, Anna said she was able to go home the day after it was done.” The girl continued swirling. The orange broth sloshed over the flat edge of the bowl. “You won’t feel anything really. They’ll just let some water in. Perfectly natural.” “And then what?” “I’ll put you up in a nice hotel afterwards. You can take a week off work.” “Will we talk about traveling again?” the girl asked. “We will go anywhere we want Dee, I promise.” “People will talk…” “Who cares what people think? Just take a look at Tom and Anna. They couldn’t be happier.” “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“It’s what we want.” “I’ll do it for you, I will. I just want us to be back the way we were.” “I don’t want you to do it for me. It’s for us. It’s always been for us.” The girl pushed her tray away and stood up. She straightened her skirt and walked across the cafeteria towards the dessert counter. The man set down his juice and followed her. They stood side by side facing the plastic encasing holding low-fat blondies, blueberry bran muffins, and orange-infused crème brulées. The girl lifted the handle and picked up one of the charred ramekins. “And after it’s done and it’s the way you want, the way we want, if I say this crème brulée tastes like the one we had in Paris, you’ll agree with me and love me like I’m perfect again?” “I’ve always loved you. You know that.” The girl dropped the handle and the case slammed shut. “But you don’t think I’m perfect like you used to tell me every night.” “Oh Dee, you are perfect. But just think about how much better it’ll be. “ “And you’ll finally tell your wife?” “I’ll be with you all the time. We traveled whenever we wanted.”
The girl continued forward and put the ramekin down on the counter. “That’ll be four twenty-five, Miss,” said the elderly woman behind the cash register. The man groped for his wallet and pulled out his gift card. The young man swiped the card and handed it back to the older man. The girl had already picked up her dessert and started back towards their table. The man followed. “It’ll just be easier this way.” “That’s what you’ll always say. It’ll never be enough, no matter what I do.” “It’s never gotten in the way. And after you’re fixed, I’ll be able to be with you everyday.” “So now I’m broken?” “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t think you’re broken, it’s just a way of saying th--” “Please, just shut up.” “Seriously, it’s really going to be such a straightforward thing. It’ll be a quick fix on anything you’re unhappy with in our relationship.” “Stop using that word fix!” “You’re being unreasonable Dee. I’m just trying to help us.” The girl picked her spoon out of the now congealed soup and placed it in her mouth. “Let me get you a clean one,” the man said.
“Don’t bother” the girl replied, but the man had already gotten out of his chair and did not hear her. The man walked over to the cutlery station. Straws, butter knives, steak knives, forks, soup spoons, and coffee spoons. He picked up one of the smaller spoons. Better to eat crème brulée with a coffee spoon than a big soup spoon. He walked back over to the girl who was sitting at their table tracing the edge of the table with her finger. “Are you feeling better?” The girl nodded. The man was clearly relieved and smiled. “You sure you want to eat that whole thing?” “Probably not. I’m going to try to eat healthier.”