The Pauper and the Power

“Sarah?”

“Sarah?”

The wind weakened, barely enough to rearrange the hairs on my forearm. Cold air plummeted from the air conditioning vent overhead. At the next table, a woman’s demitasse cup clinked into a child-like saucer.

“Jesus, Sarah. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” Todd wiped a hand across his mouth as if he had the power to erase his diatribe. Or maybe the acne scars he hid beneath his Viking-red five o’clock shadow.

Through the elaborate iron gateway separating the dining room from the bar, a waiter carried a canyon-sized slice of something blazing with celebratory sparklers. Other servers gathered around a distant table, their French lyrics lost in the sibilance of water spilling from the Machiavelli-esque fountain at the room’s center.

“I’m sorry, Todd. I—”

“—May I entice you with something sweet tonight?” Tall man. Dark coat. A thousand ways of lost hidden in the subtle comma at his smile’s edge. He’d never flashed me that in the Suburban.

My gaze drifted past his large, tanned fingers stabilizing a luminescent tray. Somehow, holding a wagon-wheel of calories, whipped and tiered to absurd heights, took him firmly out of the “take-my-hand” realm into the “best-not-Miss. Your-ass-is-already-bigger-than-the-mural” reality.

“No. Thank you.” I put what I had into it, but Robert walked away. He’d been of another time. A time when he didn’t have to pander to the rich to fill his pockets and I didn’t blend into the fake greenery behind me. I lifted my unused spoon, lost in the reflection of the focus lighting above.

“As I was saying, the merger was a complete surprise to the shareholders. Acquisitions had a field day with the turnover…”

I glanced at the pauper slathered onto the mural beyond Todd’s reflective forehead. Snowy-white beard. Parchment in hand. Bible verses silenced behind a chipped patina. I wondered if it was the way others saw me. Did the woman with the after-dinner espresso see anything beyond my sensible brown loafers? My pleated slacks? The smudge on my right eyeglass lens? Was I to have the same fate as the old man? Shouting to be heard, but no one turns?

I bolted to my feet. Water crested a crystal goblet and dribbled onto the fine linen covering the table.

“Where are you going?” Todd’s fork clanked down between two vertical bones in his rack of lamb.

I flexed my right foot, the tug of my trouser socks enough for now, and said,"


Last line...chime in to finish this baby off :)