“Good to see you” she replied with a hug hello. “When did you get this Jeep?”
“I didn’t; it belongs to an old friend. I am doing an after work dinner/bbq thing at his place for the people in his office, so I have been tooling around all day getting supplies.”
“Well you look great – I mean it’s nice to see you not in a suit for once” she noted with a bit of sarcasm. “So what’s on the menu?”
“The crowd is a mix of people who need to be impressed and a bunch of junior staffers who need to be fed and given copious amounts of cheep beer, so the menu reflects that.”
“You know, this whole ‘Casual Refugee’ look with the khakis and flip flops and the top down Jeep thing really suits you.”
Actually, it suits Kryptonite and maybe her idea of who she’d like me to be but these are runaround clothes for me (not the Jeep, I’d rock that anytime and in any attire.)
“So come on, tell me what you’re making” she persisted unmoved by the thought bubble over my head.
“Slow Roasted Pulled Pork Sandwiches with a Memphis BBQ Sauce, Capresé Skewers, House Made Guacamole some with bacon some without, Five different types of sausages and brats, Tomato and Gorgonzola Orzo Salad, Asparagus wrapped in Prosciutto, Asian Style Skirt Steak, Jerk Chicken Satay, Lemon and Dill Roasted Sockeye Salmon Smoked on Cedar Planks, and Grilled Pineapple for dessert”
“Wow, that’s some kinda BBQ.”
We exchanged a few more pleasantries. I asked about her folks, she inquired about my writing.
In what I can only presume was an exhaustion related fatigue, I said “If you’d like, you’re welcome to stop by tomorrow; some of the heavy hitters there would be good people for you to meet.”
“Really, you know how I love your food! Just send me a text with the place and time. I’d love to come.”
“Send me one now, please, so I have your number.”
“You don’t have my number?” she said with a pout that I cannot believe I once found charming, and am mystified that I could find it that way again.
“I had to delete it… text messages and emails too. I didn’t trust myself not to call you.” Kryptonite feigned shock with a tinge of hurt but I knew that it just masked the smile she was suppressing.
A couple of text were exchanged, a couple of promises too. She promised to show, and I promised myself that it didn’t matter if she did. I promised myself that I could see her for what she was for me and what I never wanted her to be.
Less than a day later, the cooking was largely done, the masses were fed and watered, the uppercase names impressed, and Kryptonite didn’t post. The best thing about my new Crackberry is that it makes it really easy to delete the entire history of someone from the device.
I don’t need to delete Krpytonite’s history from my memory… it reflects it very accurately these days.