Hello, Sunshine

“I’m interested in the grilled cheese,” he said. “Your grilled cheese.”

“Why?”

“Would like to hear how you make it.”

He put another twenty down on the counter, motioning for a refill.

“Humor me.”

I started to say that I used American cheese and Wonder Bread, to shut him up. Though the combination of the twenty sitting on the bar and how little I wanted to do the requisite comforting of Carla encouraged a truthful answer.

“I grew up in Montauk, and there is this great bakery a few towns over . . . It opened a couple of years before I left for college, freshest bread you’ve ever tasted . . .”

“Levain.”

I was a little impressed. Most people mentioned the Barefoot Contessa, which had since closed. I must have shown it, because Ryan smiled a little wider, proud of himself.

“I do this for a living,” he said. “Did it for a living. So you use a bread like theirs? What kind of cheese?”

“Swiss. And I add tomatoes and avocado, and mayonnaise.”

“Mayonnaise? That sounds kind of disgusting.”

“Softens the bread in a way butter alone won’t.”

“Makes it closer to Montauk?” Ryan looked impressed. “Levain has a location on the Upper West Side. They’re pretty famous for their cookies.”

“They should be famous for the bread.”

“And you grill your bread and cheese in Red Hook these days.” It wasn’t a question—it was like he was working through something. “That’s exotic.”

“People may think it’s exotic, but . . .”

“What people think is all that matters.”

He nodded as the front door swung open, the drunken Austin returning, Carla jumping into his arms. They started kissing, happily together again, their fight already forgotten.

“And boyfriend, I take it?”

“Fiancé.”

He took a sip of his beer. “Fiancé. And what does fiancé do?”

“He’s an architect.” I paused. At this point, I still valued the truth. I still always tried to be accurate. “He’s actually studying to be an architect.”

“And what do you want to do when you grow up?”

I didn’t want to answer that. Mostly because I didn’t have a great answer. The plan had been for me to go back to school after Danny finished, but I was feeling tired at the notion. Maybe I was just feeling tired.

“You know, the spitfire questions are starting to make me uncomfortable.”

“Fair enough, let me ask you just one more.” He motioned toward the stool beside him. “Could you sit for a minute?”

“Is that the question? ’Cause the answer is no. I have customers.”

He looked around at the mostly empty bar, Austin and Carla now making out with each other in the corner.

“Not many,” he said. And he smiled, licked his lips. Mr. Drunk Pinstripe. He thought he was so charming. Looking for something from me that I wasn’t willing to give him.