I don’t want to talk about it, said the man. It is what it is. Or perhaps it isn’t what it is. It’s something, and something is good. Something is better than nothing. I mean for her: something is better than nothing for her.
And for you? Is something better than nothing for you?
I don’t know, said the man. It depends what the something is.
So you also have nothing?
I didn’t mean that, said the man. But yes, maybe. Who knows? Do you know what you have?
Yes, said the businessman. I have shit. Shit. Nothing but shit.
Lárus returned and placed a plate of hard-boiled eggs on the bar between them.
We ordered two, said the man. Two orders of everything.
It is two, said Lárus. Count them. I don’t cheat. He disappeared, abruptly, behind the upholstered door.
The man realized that there were many egg halves on the plate: more than he would ever want to eat. He counted them: eleven. An odd number. Something, somewhere, had gone wrong. Had Lárus, perhaps, eaten one? There could be no other explanation.
Have you really got nothing but shit? the man asked.
Yes. I never lie. Why do you think I’m here, in this fucking freezing godforsaken place?
I thought you were here on some sort of business. You don’t live here, do you?
No, said the man, I don’t live here. I’d rather die than live here. I’d rather die a horrible painful death than live here.
Lárus emerged from behind the door with a large tray upon which were several plates. He placed these before the two men and disappeared back behind the door.
Look at this, said the businessman. A feast. A feast of crap. He took two of the fish croquettes and made a sort of fish croquette sandwich with them, a sandwich with no filling, and hungrily bit into it. It took him a moment to chew and swallow all that he had bitten off, and when he had, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Lárus! he called.
After a moment Lárus emerged from the land behind the upholstered door. Yes?
Two more drinks! said the businessman. He held up his empty glass. Come on, boy—do your job!
The man had not finished his drink, so he picked it up and drank all that was left. He placed it carefully back on the bar because he had a sudden fear that he might break it, that even so much as placing it back upon the surface of the bar might shatter it. But it did not shatter, or break, and the man felt relieved, and proud of himself, and thus emboldened he heard himself cry: Schnapps! I want schnapps! Not this sissy pink drink!
The businessman seemed surprised by this outburst. Yes, schnapps, he said to Lárus. But we’ll have Negronis as well. Won’t we? He turned to the man.
Yes, said the man. We will have schnapps and Negronis. And don’t forget, two of everything on the menu!
Your food is there, said Lárus, nodding to the welter of plates and bowls he had placed on the bar before them.
Ah, said the man. Yes. Thank you, Lárus! Lots to eat and lots to drink!
We shall drink and be merry, said the businessman. We shall drink and eat and fuck.
Lárus placed a small glass of schnapps before each of them. The man picked his up and swallowed it in one gulp. He pounded his empty glass down upon the bar. Another! he cried.
Well, said the businessman. Look who’s off and running.
I am, said the man. I am off and running!
Yes, but no more schnapps until you’ve had your Negroni. And you’d better eat something.
I want to get drunk, said the man.
You’re well on your way. But the evening is young. Pace yourself.
For what? Pace myself for what? What is there to pace myself for? I have always paced myself and look where it has gotten me.
Here with me, said the businessman. Eating and drinking and fucking.
We aren’t fucking!
Not yet, said the businessman. But we will.
You may be fucking. But not me. There will be no fucking tonight.
It remains to be seen.
Don’t talk about fucking, said the man. Please. It makes me sad.
That’s odd. Why?
I don’t know, said the man.
But it was true: the talk of fucking had made him sad. The exuberance he had just felt was gone. He looked dejectedly at the unappetizing array of food before him.
You’ve ruined everything, he said to the businessman. He pushed the plate of hard-cooked eggs toward the edge of the