Fiction: McCarthy

Rest in peace Mister McCarthy you were too good for this world.

It was eight o’clock in a Saturday evening in the fall and a man dressed head to toe in white linen walked through the door of a fondita off the east end of Paseo de la Reforma. It was one of those buildings that belonged to a Mexico City of the past where the doors swung back and forth like those to a saloon in an old spaghetti western and the inside of the restaurant seemed yellow despite being filled with aluminum furniture on white ceramic tiles. Only half the tables were full but if anyone tried walking through the same swinging doors they would be firmly told that there were no more tables left for the evening. The restaurant did not take reservations. The white man sat down at a seat facing the southwestern window and caught the last rays of golden sun as they caught his preternaturally white face in turn.

A waiter slowly glided over to his table and the sunlight glinted off a gold incisor.

Señor Sandro ¿qué le gustaría comer? he asked the seated man in white.

Lo mismo de siempre he replied.

Buena dos quesabirria como siempre.

The white man came into the little fondita every day at this time and every day at this time he was greeted by the waiter with the golden incisor and every day he ordered his cheese and goat tortilla which was a rich messy dish for a serious and austere man and every day he ate alone. But today was not every day. The man in white didn’t know it yet and continued to sit patiently looking at the sun. The dying yellow sunlight contrasted with the alabaster of the man’s face which was naturally white but further bolstered by a generous layer of sunscreen. His light golden hair also seemed white as the sun caught it.

The waiter with the golden incisor returned from the kitchen a few moments later and placed a plate of three quesabirria with consommé in front of the white faced man and quietly left. He took out a red handkerchief and dusted off his hands, before tying it around his own neck. He picked up a stuffed tortilla dipped it into the consommé and opened his pink lips. The man’s white teeth flashed and half the tortilla was gone. Rivulets of meat juice dribbled down his chin which he smoothly caught with the handkerchief. He raised his hand again to finish the quesabirria when the doors to the fondita swung open again.

In walked a man whose face was as golden as the sun and hair as black as night. He was wearing a black racerback top and fluorescent pink shorts. He looked around until his eyes landed on the man with the white teeth. His eyes grew even smaller as his leathery face split into a smile of recognition.

Alex! It’s been far too long!

The white man looked upon the tanned face of the newcomer and took in his pink shorts. He slowly put down his tortilla and took the handkerchief off his neck and wiped his hands. Then his face also twisted into a smile something that had not happened in so long he had almost forgotten how to do so.

John. I didn’t know you were in town said the man with the white face.

I didn’t make my flight back from Tulum so I thought I would come and say hi. You still share your location with me the newcomer said. How have you been?

There were no other chairs at the table so the dark man had to take an empty chair from an adjacent table and he sat in it backwards. The violent contrast in colours made them an odd pair as the Spanish conversation picked up again in the background of the fondita. They waited until the ambient sound level had resumed before speaking.

It’s never been the same since she left said the man with the white teeth. You know this.

Yea but what’s still tying you down here? Come back to Canada said the dark man. You can find love again. Look at you without a wrinkle on your face.

And this was true. The white man had a white face because of diligent application of sunscreen under the oppressive Mexican sun. The dark man had many lines on his forehead owing to his travels to sun kissed lands. Though they were both born the same forty years ago the dark man looked his age and the man with white teeth looked supernaturally young.

You know that Gabriela was different than your call sheet of girlfriends.

The waiter with the golden incisor glided over to their table again. ¿Qué le gustaría comer? he asked. the man with the dark face turned to look at the man with the white face.

¿Le gustaria a tu amigo? tried the waiter with the golden incisor again.

Those look good said the dark man to the white man.

Lo mismo que yo said the man with the white teeth to the waiter with the golden incisor who nodded once and headed back towards the kitchen.

Sorry I didn’t mean it like that John said the white man. I’m not used to talking to people these days.

It’s okay. I know you’re still hurting. But that’s why you have to get out of here and back to Canada. It’s been three years Alex. Two years.

The white man’s face darkened. It had been three years and three months to the day. They went to Cancún to visit a few of his friends who had come down Gabriela recommended a safe part of the city off the resort and they rented a seaside villa. It was a rosy trip and his friends and Gabriela got along and he felt happy. That was the last time he felt happy. One night they were out at a bar and there were gunshots and by the time the screaming stopped and the lights turned back on and he looked down Gabriela was dead in his arms.

He thought of when they first met at an antique market half a decade ago. They laid eyes on the same set of orange Baughman recliners and the ensuing argument resulted in the antique-monger repricing the chair. She gave him an earful before stalking off and he followed her determined to defend himself. One thing led to dinner led to another led to the love of his life the happiest he had ever been. He craved her touch and yearned for her presence feeling his tensions and worries dissipating when she was near. He still craved her touch and yearned for her presence but his tensions and worries stayed.

Are you listening to me Alex? It’s time to leave the dark man was saying.

The man with the white face nodded and stood up. It was time for them to leave. The fondita closed soon.