Sunday, 19 August 2007

92: cigarette

The adobo is good. Chicken, marinaded in a kind of sauce. Warm and rich and kind of spicy. We have it with rice.

So, _____, says Carmella’s tita. How long have you been working at the supermarket?

Four years, I say.

That’s a long time, says Carmella.

How do you like it? says Carmella’s tita.

I start to tell them about the produce department. I tell them about my boss, about not understanding him, about the turtle, about the peach fountain, about the store room now being full of produce. Etc.

They are laughing.

Then they look serious.
Then they are laughing again.

I am charming. I am charming after all. I have charmed the living bejesus out of them.

Why don’t you just quit? asks Carmella once I’ve finished.

I think about this.

I don’t know, I say.

When the food is eaten, Carmella speaks to her tita in Filipino. It is nice listening to them speak and only understanding 1% of what they are saying. The 1% I understand is the word cigarette.

I’m going to have a smoke outside, says Carmella. Want to come? You smoke, right?

I think about this.

I decide to start smoking again.

No comments: