someone just came in the door
There’s a boy. A man? A lot older than Whizzer. With old eyes. Old eyes and soft dark-colour cardigans that never match his shirts. Some days incorrectly-fitting suits with mismatched ties. He comes into Cordelia’s bakery (where Whizzer is working now as challah expert) some days and Whizzer feels all fluttery whenever he sees him, although he despairs of the guy’s fashion sense. The guy comes in, buys tiger bread or challah on fridays, tips well, smiles awkwardly at whoever’s serving him and leaves. When he does, Whizzer hovers by the entrance to the oven room, listening in. Cordelia rolls her eyes at him. The fourth time it happens, the guy sees him and Whizzer, in an unusual move, bolts the fuck away, into the proving room where Cordelia punches him in the arm and tries to push him back out there. He squeals and dodges away from her. Leib, his manager, tells him that that guy asked who the hell he was. (“Who was that kid?” “What kid?” “The kid who was just in the doorway!” “Oh, him? He makes the jewish food.” “Right. Is he here a lot?” “Most days, why?” “Oh, no reason.”) Whizzer feels so many things. Nausea. Vertigo. Excitement? Maybe. He practically skips into the prep room to tell Delia. She’s as excited as him.
The next Friday Lieb puts Whizzer on the counter and pats him on the back. Tells him to get out there while he can. Whizzer likes Lieb. He’s the one old queen Whizzer wouldn’t mind ending up like. Kind and moneyed. That’s a life he can get behind. So Whizzer’s up from five in the morning, arranging the loaves and warming up the shitty espresso machine. He likes counter service, likes talking to the regulars and sweet old lady and being complimented on his hair and eyes and (once) teeth (two years of braces paid off. That was a dark time.) Today an old dude with a rabbinical beard says Whizzer would be a great match for his daughter, if he got a better job. Whizzer takes that as a compliment. A girl of about twelve in tznius blushes when she asks him for some poppy seed bagels, please and thank you. A mother of three asks him to hold her baby for a moment. It drools on him. And then, just as the mother leaves and the bakery is finally empty for the first time since half six, the guy walks in. The Guy.
He’s wearing an argyle sweater and black slacks (an atrocious combination), brown shoes and a gold magen david. Awful. Whizzer’s heart flutters. Does the guy want challah? He does. Not the poppy seed one, though, his mom is allergic. Whizzer worries for a moment that the guy still lives with his mom and the guy must see it because he confirms that his mom is merely coming for shabbas dinner. Whizzer breathes a sigh of relief. They make small talk about the weather and the bakery and when Whizzer turns around from bagging up the guy’s order he catches him staring. He raises an eyebrow. The guy blushes. It’s cute. Whizzer introduces himself. Is that his real name? Whizzer says yes. Whizzer lies. The guy says it suits him. The guy’s name is Marvin. If it was any other guy Whizzer would be snarky and ask if that’s his real name, but for some reason he loses all his sarcasm around this guy. It’s odd. Marvin’s an investment banker. Very square. That guy from earlier should pair his daughter off with Marvin. Whizzer tells Marvin about his photography. Marvin seems interested, surprisingly. Maybe he’s just being nice. They chat a little longer until a little beeper on Marvin’s watch goes off and he has to rush away. He tells Whizzer he’ll see him soon. Whizzer blurts out that he hopes so. Marvin laughs. Whizzer waits until Marvin’s out the door to cringe with his entire body. Cordelia emerges from the shadows to hug him and laugh at what a dork he can be.
Later on he cringes about it further over dinner. Charlotte calls him a dork too and asks if Whizzer’s gonna make a move on the guy. Whizzer says he would rather jump off a cliff. Charlotte and Cordelia flick him in the arm at the same time and tell him to make a move next week or they’ll do it themselves. He says he’ll think about it and leaves his friends alone to make out. He goes into his room and develops a few reels of film. There’s some nice shots, one of the sunrise from the balcony in his temporary room, one of Charlotte’s eyes, warm and brown in the midday light, one of Cordelia dancing at the kickback they went to last week. He’s been staying with them three weeks now and remembering that consumes him with guilt. Sure, he plays a third of the rent and cooks meals and helps with chores, but he still feels a little bad. He’ll move out soon. He takes out his siddur, prays for his friends and for his dad and for clarity and then goes to bed. He has a dream that he’s fallen down the stairs and he’s laying at the bottom of some stairs as everyone he knows walks over him. When he wakes up he’s in a cold sweat so he thinks about Marvin and for some reason that’s calming and he falls asleep in record time.