Barbeques

Monday, September 5, 2005

The barbeque was to start promptly at noon. “Do you think anyone’s coming?” David asked Doolies.

Doolies sat next to him in the cabana reading a magazine. She wore three-quarter pants and held a magazine over her head to either block out the sun or read the article; David wasn’t sure which. “We invited eleven people, and we know my sister is coming, so, yes, someone will come.”

The cabana faced the small barbeque area, where they had piled the food and paper goods on the table. A purple dolphin balloon swam from a string above the table. David admired how the dolphin always kept its nose into the wind, a trait he first saw while piloting the shopping cart through the aisles.

David bit his lip and looked over the food again. He watched the dolphin twist in the wind for a bit. “Okay, I’ve done the math, I can eat six hamburgers and maybe four hot dogs, I figure you’re good for two of each, and your sister can down the same.”

“What are you talking about?” Doolies put down her magazine and turned on her chair. She wore a black hat with her ponytail sticking out. Her glasses, which darkened in the sun, looked black.

“I was figuring what we would do if nobody shows. We have to eat all this barbeque meat somehow, and I was divvying it up, is all. Are you trying to tell me you can’t eat two hot dogs and hamburgers?”

“First off, I’m the good eater of the relationship, so, yes, I can eat that much, you should worry more about your own eating. And second, they’ll show up, don’t worry so much. It’s not even noon yet.”

“You did tell them it starts at noon, right?”

“Well, sort of,” Doolies said. She flicked imaginary lint off her white shirt.

“What does that mean?”

“I told people to be here noonish.”