Egg Rolls and the Language of Love

“Just to be clear, I will never date you,” Kylie said.

“Wow, that’s harsh,” Kevin said. “I mean, never is a really long time.”

He reminded her of a bird with a broken wing, not that he looked like a bird. Only a little taller than her, and a little heavier than her, they were more like pandas, but less furry. And, since they were almost the same height, it was oddly comforting to look into his eyes, almost like looking in a mirror. 

“Maybe ‘never’ is next week? Coffee?” His shy, sad smile turned her heart. 

How could she say no? “OK. But just coffee. It’s not a date.”

***

The following week, after their evening adult French class with the corrections and exasperated sighs of Miss LeClerc in their ears, they walked out of class together and leaned against his green Toyota Camry spotted with a bit of rust in the parking lot outside the school. Every time Kylie looked at her watch, Kevin said something to make her laugh and they were off for another ten or twenty minutes of conversation. She hadn’t remembered laughing that much in a long time. It felt good. 

“Why are you taking class anyway?” he asked.

“I guess I’m running away from my life for a short while,” she said. “I planned a long trip to Quebec later this summer and I want to be able to say a few things for the inevitable times when I get lost,” Kylie said. “Maybe ask where to find a gas station or the best poutine.”

“Running away?” he asked.

“I think a lot of people want to run away. Erase the past, no job, no relationship, just free.” She paused. “But how about you? Why this class?” 

“Oh, I’m here for revenge,” he said. “I haven’t erased yet.”

“Revenge? Should I be worried?”

“Let’s find that coffee,” he said. “And I will tell you all about it.”

Kylie looked around the asphalt lot of the local high school. Pools of light from the lampposts made islands of white. The cemetery next door was quiet, as it should be. “Not much coffee nearby,” she said.

“Just follow me,” he said. “I’ll even spring for egg rolls.”

She laughed. “Coffee doesn’t go with egg rolls.”

“Trust me. Meet you at China Fun? It’s on your way home. And I’ll spill on the revenge.” 

Intriguing. “OK, but it’s not a date,” she said. 

They drove to Waitsfield and entered the shop. She inhaled the scents of garlic and ginger as they settled at a corner table, the top sticky with something spilled. There was evidence of former diners, crumpled napkins and packets of soy sauce on the floor. 

“Closing in 10 minutes,” the waitress said as she came to their table. He opened his wallet and gave her a $20 bill. “How about ten more minutes?”

The waitress looked at him and at her and pocketed the bill. “OK, closing in 20 minutes then. I’ve got to clean up a few things anyway. What do you want?”

 “Two iced coffees and an order of egg rolls, please.” He looked at her. “Anything else?”

“Spicy mustard?”

“Definitely,” he answered.

The waitress yelled their ordered into the back and started to wipe the tables. 

“So… revenge French?” she asked.

“Ah. Well…it is revenge. Revenge on my former girlfriend who said I could never do anything new…”

That’s when the alarm bells rang in her head. A recent break up. Figures.

“And French is the language of love, so perfectly ironic,” he said. “But the class is a lot harder than I thought it would be, so maybe she was right after all.” 

The image of a broken bird came back to her. She’d always wanted one of those when she was a girl, even outfitting a discarded shoebox with soft green felt borrowed from her mother’s supply of cloth. She had looked for a bird, but never found one. 

“I’m sorry, Kevin.”

“It’s hard,” he said. “I thought Melanie and I were talking about getting married. Turns out it was only me talking about it.”

He continued, “When I got back from work on a Tuesday, all her summer clothes, her framed photo of her parents, and two bottles of tequila were gone. And the fish. She took our fish.”

“What kind of fish?” she asked.

He stared at her. “Fish? You want to know about the fish?”

“Well, the fish survived, right? Not the relationship. I mean, it’s alive, it’s swimming, how’s the water going to stay in the bowl? Or how will it get enough air --”

“The fish,” he interrupted. “Thank you for caring about the fish. And it was, I mean still is, I hope, a gorgeous turquoise Discus.”

“The big round ones? They’re beautiful.”

They sat quietly for a moment. She looked out the window at the passing cars on the night street. “What did you do?”

“After exhausting my vocabulary of swear words, throwing the sofa cushions around, and kicking the furniture until I broke my toe?” he said. “I read the note she left. Basically, saying that she didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore. I mean, who does that? A note?”

“A chicken. A coward.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Or an ostrich. Or maybe an earth worm.”

She laughed.

The egg rolls, mustard, and coffees arrived. Together, the two of them made a paste of mustard and soy sauce. Stirring the spicy with the salty, the shards of gold mixing with brown. Adding more mustard to get the right texture. They each dipped an egg roll into the sauce and swirled it around. As if choreographed, they raised their egg rolls at the same time and took deep bites. The hot, salty, oily water squirted into her mouth.

“Now, quick, cool off with the coffee,” he said, gesturing toward her glass.

She slurped through the straw, the icy milkiness cooled her tongue and the coffee blended with the oil and ginger. She nodded her approval. “I would never have guessed,” she said. “That’s a revelation.”

“Good, right?” He paused. “Melanie liked egg rolls, too. But I can’t remember if she was a spicy mustard fan. I’m having trouble remembering all the little things. That’s good, right? It’s been over six months. Oh, please stop me from nattering.” 

She nodded. “Yeah, sadly, that’s why I can’t date you. In fact, once again, I declare for the record that I will never date you.”

“Wait, you said ‘sadly.’ Do I have a chance?” A spark of hope lit in his eye.

She chuckled. “Yes, I date,” she said. “But, you. You are off limits. You are on the rebound. You aren’t ready. Every dating site would say the same thing. Every girlfriend I could call would warn me away.”

He brushed away the comment with his hands. “Give me your wish list. What would it take to date me?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome,” she said, taking another bite of egg roll and another sip of coffee.

“Rules me out then,” he said. “Short, blond. OK, maybe handsome.” He turned in profile to emphasize his statuesque nose.

She tried not to spit the coffee out of her mouth, but a little dribbled out the corner as she suppressed her laugh.

“And funny. Don’t forget funny,” he said. “But, really. What do you need?”

“Just someone where I’m not the next person. The rebound person. That seems to happen to me.”

“Now it’s my turn to be sorry.” He picked up a napkin and gently dabbed my lips where the coffee had leaked out. “You deserve the best. Like short, blond, and good-enough looking, n’est pas, mon amie?”

She chortled. “I think revenge French suits you.”

They swirled their egg rolls and popped the morsels into their mouths.

“Time’s up.” The waitress came over with the check and the to-go boxes for the two egg rolls still on the plate. Kevin took the boxes and handed over his credit card. 

“So how long is never?” he asked.

“What?”

“How long do I have to wait to ask you for a date?”

She thought about the broken bird she never found. 

“I don’t have a shoe box anymore,” she said.

“Okaaaay..,” he said, confusion clear on his face. “We have these to-go boxes. Will they do?” He displayed the empty boxes nested one inside the other in his open hands.

She took one from him and placed one egg roll inside and carefully folded the top. “Maybe they will,” she said. “Since never feels a lot closer than it used to.”