NIGHT ON THE TOWN

Last night Claudia and I didn't go to bed until three in the morning. It was a spontaneous occasion. Since we're home all the time, our eating habits have changed. We keep different morning hours because she has to rise early for the distance learning via Zoom implemented by the BISD. I often lie in bed until nine or ten. I take two preventive pills for medical conditions that require postponing breakfast for an hour. Therefore, it can be as late as eleven before I prepare bacon and eggs, toast, coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice, one of a variety of plates I imagine I'm ordering at a Paris café.

"Bonjour, monsieur. Que voulez-vous?"

"Bonjour, mon ami. Je veux une…"

Michael chats, watches movies and plays games all night long. Sometimes, he doesn't go to bed until five or six in the morning. Claudia and I wait for him to emerge from his bedroom around three before we eat lunch, which is usually a piece of meat, a vegetable and a salad. As a result of our delayed meals, there are many evenings that we don't have dinner. We'll snack on something with a glass of wine while watching television.

Last night, though, was different. I was hungry. I told Claudia to call for a pizza. Nobody was open. I decided to take the car and find something because I didn't want to cook. Luckily, Toscafino had opened its doors for the first time in weeks. Swank is back by local standards although in a T-shirt, shorts and sandals, I was hardly dressed for the occasion.

One of the beauties of Brownsville, which may account for my 45-year stay, is that nobody really gives a shit. There is an endless stream of gossip and relationships come to sudden ends in the wake of affairs or venereal diseases, but from my many experiences I will argue that nobody really gives a shit. I don't.

You treat people straight and they reciprocate in kind. Brownsville doesn't simmer with racism and most my acquaintances, and there are many, believe that when you are dead, you are dead. Therefore, Catholicism is a tradition and everyone tolerates the Jehovah Witnesses and the Mormons, particularly now that they have to keep their distance. They can continue to spread the word of God, but, goddammit, they better not be spreading COVID-19.

At Toscafino there was a couple at one table, four patrons at the bar and several people sitting outside. I took a seat at the end of the bar and ordered a pizza with everything. The waiter, wearing a mask like the rest of his fellow employees, said it would take approximately 20 minutes. I asked him to bring me a plate of cheese that I slowly ate as I consumed two glasses of a tasty Cab. While waiting, I called Claudia.

"I'm at Toscafino having a great time. All the 'fresas' are here in their low-cut blouses and short skirts."

"That's great," she replied as she flowed with the conversation.

"I've ordered a pizza and I'll be home shortly, but you need to do your part."

"My part?" she replied with a quizzical tone in her voice.

"Yes. Your part! You need to open one of the bottles of wine."

"Oh! Okay."

"See you in a bit."

Toscafino's pizzas cost more than the average pie, but they are large and delicious, eight significant slices, two sufficiently filling. I returned home. I put music on the laptop and we laughed and talked until the wee hours of the morning, another bottle fueling the fun. (For the record, we emptied a Bordeaux and a Malbec.)

In spite of the threat that Coronavirus represents, there has been a silver lining to that invisible cloud that hangs over us. We have learned to take life at a slower pace, relax and relish the down time. We waste so much energy chasing our tails that culminates in nothing. In the 18 years that Claudia and I have been together off-and-on, I don't remember a night like this. We have partied late on countless occasions, but this was different. We were like old friends.

I would have liked to have capped the night with a fuck, but while alcohol enlivens my imagination, it kills my ignition. Fortunately, there's the possibility of afternoon delight. If not, there is the night. And if not, I'm sure tomorrow will bring an end to my sorrow.