BURGER SCOOT

This is my first attempt at fiction, so for all who decide to read this, be gentle with me. Thanks. – Jack

On the first and third Thursdays of each month, Henry and Claire Nelson go on date nights, which usually consist of dinner and the cinema, though they occasionally have something quick at home, then go out for drinks or maybe dessert. Henry considers the standing tradition a kind of marriage-saver. Not that Henry and Claire’s marriage is in any trouble—far from it. It is gestures like date nights, spontaneous flowers (i.e., not on days like Valentine’s, Claire’s birthday, or their anniversary), and plenty of kissing and hugging as insurance for the fledgling marriage. It’s all to keep his marriage from becoming stale and predictable. He has also considered marriage counseling, but not at this point. Henry and Claire call the biweekly date night events “Daniel Baciagalupo”—after one of the characters in John Irving’s novel Last Night in Twisted River, which they both love. Of course, Daniel Baciagalupo’s character has a nom de guerre that is much easier to pronounce, but what fun is it to hear their reservation called out as “Danny Angel” when they can enjoy a quiet snicker at a host slaughtering the Italian name?

Henry and Claire’s love of the Irving book was based almost entirely on its profoundly romantic ending. They met in a singles reading group and agreed that Irving hadn’t written a truly great book since 1998’s A Widow for One Year. On the night they met, the group was covering Last Night in Twisted River. Henry and Claire, while agreeing that the book wasn’t great, absolutely loved the ending of the 2009 novel. While the rest of the group were okay with the novel’s resolution, they preferred to move on to next month’s selected read and the usual group topics of streaming TV shows, who’s dating whom, and politics.

It wasn’t love at first, but a mutual respect that turned into frequent bookstore/coffee dates until they finally fucked–in Claire’s car. Claire had too much of the Pinot Noir being passed around at one of the reading group meetings, and Henry demanded on driving her home in her car. Claire finally relented but insisted they park the car behind her condominium on an unfinished street with empty tract houses on one side and a large field with a long chain-link fence on the other. Henry, to this day, feels bad for not checking Claire’s advances and her insistence on parking. She had her own condo with a bed, a couch, and an overstuffed chair for Christ’s sake. Hell, bending her over her double-basin kitchen sink would be more comfortable, for that matter. If she got sick from all the wine and rich hors d’oeuvres, well, she had her own receptacle right there as long as Henry directed her head towards the basin with the garbage disposal.

Henry only thought of the sink option as a joke the day after, while having an “emergency” recap lunch break in the coffee shop across from his work. An embarrassed Claire apologized for her drunkenness and insisted on fucking around the gear shift, center console, and to the sound of what had to be more than one KIND Dark Chocolate Nuts & Sea Salt candy bar wrapper crinkling under Henry as Claire rode him maniacally to her drunken orgasm. Claire also told Henry that she had taken the Plan B One-Step pill earlier that morning since neither of them had used contraceptives. And finally, they decided on what kind of contraceptive they would take going forward. Claire unilaterally decided, assuming her doctor would clear it, to fall on the grenade for both and go on the pill, but insisted Henry service her the way she liked it and as often as she liked it. Henry’s only silent concern was that the frequency would be—frequent enough. Claire never talked about the drunken’ car fuck again, chalking it up to an embarrassing moment when the Pinot was doing the thinking.

Almost a year to the day after the fateful reading-group night that ended in Claire’s car, Henry and Claire decided to make it official. They had been considering marriage for about seven months, but when Claire’s mother gave her a family ring passed down through generations, Claire told Henry she wanted it to be her wedding ring. Henry agreed and suggested the timing was as good as any to get married. Their only challenge was the wedding itself: Claire came from a blended family with biological parents who did not get along, and Henry’s parents had died in a traffic accident while he was in college. So, they went to the Sacramento courthouse, with Claire’s college friend Sarah, now a professional photographer, serving as both a witness and a photographer. They later celebrated with three receptions: one hosted by Claire’s mother in Sacramento, another by Claire’s father in Riverside, and a final party at Henry’s aunt and uncle’s home in Rocklin.

For the first couple of years, Daniel Baciagalupo always ended with Henry and Claire making love. Still, in the last year or so, they ended the evening with the couple listening to the last chapter of Twisted River, kissing, back rubs, and foot massages. The last two activities, when they happened, were always Henry giving and Claire receiving. Soon after, they would fall asleep. Henry had moved into Claire’s condo. Despite Henry making nearly twice as much as Claire did, Claire’s condo, which she inherited with most of the mortgage paid off, was much nicer than Henry’s rather Spartan apartment. Also, Henry didn’t want to go through the trouble of moving Claire’s office, so the living room doubled as Claire’s office, which meant during crunch times when Claire had to work into the night, Henry was to make himself scarce, but not to leave the house unless he was fetching something for her: a cheeseburger at Mondo Burgers, Thai food at Thai Me Up, or pick up some ice cream, or some cookies, or whatever she wanted at the store.

Henry didn’t mind that Claire had a selfish streak in her. “The woman knows what she wants,” Henry would defend her when others pointed out that Claire bossed Henry around. In their brief time living together, Claire never rode roughshod over Henry; she wanted things a certain way, and Henry was easygoing.

Henry used to be something of a solitary figure before he met Claire. He used to dine out or view films alone. Though he dated from time to time, solitude never felt odd or depressing to him until he met Claire. Claire was the game changer. Still, even after more than three years together, he can slip somewhat comfortably back into his own company whenever the opportunity arises. Still, Henry missed his wife on the rare “Claireless” Daniel Baciagalupo evening. It was the third Thursday of June, and Claire was out of town visiting two of her cousins. Claire gave Henry the option to stay at home, and Henry took it.

It was there at Mondo Burgers, a frequent pick for the dinner leg of their bi-monthly Daniel Baciagalupo, that Henry ran into Amy Martin. Henry dated Amy when they both attended California State University, Sacramento, or Sac State, as most people called it. (Years later, when Henry first read Last Night in Twisted River in the reading group, he was fascinated by the character in Irving’s book with the first and last name of his old girlfriend. The real and fictitious Amy Martin shared other elements besides a first and last name: height, build, and blond hair. It was unsettling.)

Henry saw Amy for the first time while he was on a date with Lynda, a sports reporter for the college paper, The Hornet. While Lynda took copious notes on the game, sitting directly behind the team bench, Henry had a hard time watching the game as an attractive blond kept looking over her shoulder, smiling at him. Whenever the 6’1” player was called into the game, Henry suddenly took an interest in the Hornets game. When Amy was called back to the bench, she smiled at Henry while walking off the court, absent-mindedly holding her hand up for any high five a teammate wanted to give her for a good five minutes or so of play. Henry was both excited and horrified because Lynda was sitting next to him, but the reporter was watching the action on the court, not what was happening with her date and the blond guard a foot away.

A short while later, Henry was still attending games, but now as the boyfriend of the backup guard. A few games later, Amy suffered an MCL tear. She finished the season wearing a knee brace and would, from time to time, reach behind her, where Henry sat, and rub his ankle as if she was jacking it off, or, when she figured out Henry was wearing laced shoes, untie one of the laces. Henry considered these high-school antics a form of foreplay, since after every one of those games, with or without the MCL brace, Amy fucked Henry aggressively and at times roughly as if she had a score to settle with Henry’s cock.

Amy would tease Henry about his slight paunch—Henry never had a weight problem per se. Still, he was not athletic either, and Amy, who had an athletic body, liked to give him a hard time, even grabbing his fleshy belly during lovemaking. Amy suggested that she become his personal trainer in exchange for Henry helping Amy with her classes and proofreading her college papers. Henry would later realize this was a win-win for Amy: she got help in her coursework, and for it, she got to drill Henry mercilessly in calisthenics, which she treated as foreplay since this invariably led to rough sex where she loved to dominate poor Henry.

So, there she was in Mondo Burgers—Henry and Claire’s place. Even ten feet away, it seemed like he was looking up at her. Amy had about five inches on him, but the whole dominant thing that was never direct, always elliptical about her, seemed to be still present even before Amy opened her mouth to speak. “Hey, little man.” Amy never called him anything derogatory like that before, but Henry remembered it was he who broke up with her, and when he did, she didn’t cry so much as she acted as if he had insulted her.

Henry wanted to bolt, but he was pretty sure Amy would follow him out to his car, and something bad might happen. “Hey, Amy, how are you?” “Better now that you are here. So, are you going to buy me a Mondoburger with pepperjack?” He remembered she always wanted to spice up the food she ordered. If the restaurant didn’t have anything, she would produce a 7.5 mL packet of Cholula, which was most likely lifted from a Mexican restaurant’s table caddy.

“Uh, sure, I’m getting my dinner to go, how about you?” Henry knew Amy was trying to intimidate him. Mercifully, he didn’t have to wait in line. He placed an order for two Mondoburgers, fries, and two Diet Cokes, hoping she would get the picture that he was ordering for Claire as well and that she was waiting at home for the burger, soda, and half the fries. Of course, Claire was 1000 miles away. He also took Amy’s order, paid for all of it, and nervously asked if Amy wanted to sit down while they waited.

Sitting in one of the uncomfortable fiberglass booths, Amy smiled that million-dollar smile that now seemed more menacing than it did when they were dating. “So, does this mean we’re on a date?” Amy asked coquettishly—her long legs extending to spread Henry’s legs open.

“You know I’m married, right?”

“Oh, that’s right, I loved the wedding. Oh, wait, I wasn’t invited. That’s right. How are you and the cub reporter doing?

“I didn’t marry Lynda, but I’m guessing you know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Anyway, why didn’t you invite me to the wedding? Did you think I was going to grab your junk in the reception line, or was it your cuntbride’s choice to leave me out?”

“Please don’t call Claire that, and you have never met her, so–” As Henry said those last words, he could have sworn there was a crack in Amy’s armor, and Amy’s long legs that held Henry’s thighs open suddenly dropped to the floor. A split second later, the young woman behind the counter called Henry’s number.

Henry slowly got out of the booth, keeping his eyes on a different-looking Amy Martin, and picked up the bags. They bagged the orders correctly, so after returning to the booth, Henry placed Amy’s bag in front of her and told her he needed to get back home. “Take care of yourself, Amy.” Henry turned around and, giving Amy a casual wave of the hand, walked out of Mondo Burgers. He was waiting to hear Amy yell something at his back, but he didn’t hear anything from the booth where she sat.

Henry continued to walk out of the restaurant and into his car. Amy didn’t follow, but from the window, Henry could see that Amy was still in the booth. Her head was bowed—her Mondoburger bag untouched exactly where he had placed it. Was she emailing or texting something unkind to me or about Claire and me? Henry never got a message from her. Henry was the one who ended their relationship nearly five years ago; maybe she was still dealing with that. In the end, he was the one to put the brakes on it.

A couple of days passed, and Henry picked up Claire at the airport. Things got back to normal for Henry, but he was haunted by that last image of Amy bowing down in the booth at Mondo Burgers. Was she sobbing? There was a vulnerable side to Amy. She used to get defensive whenever it surfaced, and whenever Henry wanted to talk about it, he nearly got punched for suggesting such a vulnerability existed in her, and that vulnerability was a good thing. Still, her outburst in the restaurant might have been her way of protecting herself. And the crying, if that is what it was, was just her way of releasing what they once had. From that point on, every time Claire suggested Mondo Burgers for Daniel Baciagalupo night, Henry agreed, but couldn’t get the idea of a crying Amy Martin out of his head until they were well into the night’s film.