Jason Driskill

I get soup from the cafe downstairs on a near-daily basis. Should I be completely broke, I will go out on the street and beg for nickels. If I don’t eat but one meal all week, it’s their Chicken Tortilla soup - a chicken broth with garbonzo beans, onions, chicken and pepper, sprinkled with mozarella cheese. It’s so euphoric. I could eat bowl after bowl after bowl.

I can’t say for sure if my addiction stems solely from my tastebuds or perhaps from a less specific attraction I have toward the guy that works the cash register.

I noticed him working there shortly after I started my job. He wasn’t hard to notice, pretty much the only guy working there. He is cute, friendly, with a carefree demeanor. One day I panicked because there was no Chicken Tortilla soup. He patiently explained to me that they only offer it on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and handed me a schedule. The following week he remembered me on sight and asked if I’d got my fix of the Chicken Tortilla soup yet. He remembered me! This gave me a warm feeling in my chest, completely different than the warm feeling in my belly from the soup.

I always try to think of things to say to him while I’m waiting in line - little pleasantries that might lead to more conversation. But when it comes time to hand him my money all I can do is grunt “hi” and “thank you.” It’s like paralysis, except I can actually feel my spine turn into jelly.

So today being Friday I was determined, even at the risk of small talk, to instigate something more than “hello.” I had it all planned out. I was going to say, “Hey man, have any big weekend plans?” It was casual, graceful, and I’d recited it several times in the elevator so I wouldn’t trip up the words.

The line for the register was short, practically non-existant.  I handed him my money. The words were right in the back of my throat, but all I could do was grunt “hi,” and grin stiffly like a second grader in a class photo.  I heard the words that I rehearsed, but they weren’t coming out of my mouth.  He was asking me! “Big weekend plans?” I blushed and stammered, “No,” which was a total lie because I have huge panel presentations all day Saturday and Sunday. The rest of my graduate school studies pivots on the events that unfold this weekend. What the hell is up with “no?” Pulling together as many wits as I could muster, I mumbled “you?” He said he simply planned to enjoy the weather. “That sounds perfect,” I said.

I told him to have a great weekend and went on my way.