GINGER

Bella and I were driving toward downtown and saw this guy with long curly red hair and a yellow headband and matching yellow wristbands walking toward us on the sidewalk. He was really humping, striding with his shoulders as much as with his legs, big steps, his head moving back and forth like he was chanting No no no no no over and over again. Bella and I cracked smiles. I said, “Looks like he has some place to be,” and Bella said, “That’s what you got from that. Roman, his dick was out,” and I said, “What?” because I definitely did not see any dick. Bella said, “Yeah, I could see the top of his dick,” and I wasn’t sure what part the top was, so I said, “You mean the tip?” and Bella said, “No, opposite, the part closest to the body,” and I said, “You could see it?” and she said, “Yeah, like how guys let their pants hang down in the back and you can see their underwear? This guy’s gym shorts were like that in the front, but he didn’t have underwear on, so I could see that top of his dick, nestled in the bush.” I’d been concentrating on driving. I considered turning around, getting another look, but then again, I didn’t need to see this guy’s dick. “He should put that away,” I said, and Bella said, “Probably didn’t know it was out,” and I told her, “Absolutely not—we know if our dicks’re out.” Bella said, “Maybe he had keys and his phone in his pockets, weighing them down," and I double-downed with, “No. Guys know. We just do,” raising my voice more than I’d intended. Bella winced. She said, “It’s no big deal, Rome. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” We drove in silence a bit, then the topic switched to dinner, stopping at the store or fast food. Nothing sounded good. I was still preoccupied with that guy, his stupid hair, his stupid walk, his exposed dick. How’d I miss a dick? “Maybe that’s a thing,” Bella said, looking down at herself. “Like how women show parts of our breasts. A little peek, advertising the goods.” “Dick cleavage?” I said. “You’re describing dick cleavage,” and Bella said, “Yeah, I guess so. And if you ask me, it’s about damn time.” She couldn’t keep a straight face. I said, “I don’t think there’s any such thing as dick cleavage. Or side dick. It’s either put all the way away or it’s indecent exposure. Hey, how about Skyline?” Bella nodded. I veered toward the abandoned mall, where the fast food still was. On the sidewalk, coming toward us, was another guy, a jogger, but normal-like. Great form. Fully clothed. “See that guy?” I said, and Bella said, “What? You’re going to say his dick’s not out, aren’t you?” and I said, “Yeah.” Chiptole was on the left, but I didn’t want to get out of the car. The line at Skyline was huge. I pulled into Wendy’s. We both ordered Double-with-Cheese meals. This Wendy’s was always slow. “I’m hungrier than I thought,” Bella said just as I said, “Maybe we can try again tonight.” Bella ran her fingers along her seat belt. She said, “I don’t know. It’s already seven,” and before she could say anything else, I said, “It’s okay. You’re right. It’s late,” and she said, “No, we should. But maybe before we eat?” and I said, “You just said you were starving,” and Bella said, “No, let’s. I want to.” We moved up a car, two more still ahead of us. I said, “Besides, I don’t want you thinking of dick cleavage guy the whole time,” and Bella said, “Maybe I need to clean my palette.” We moved up another car. I said, “That’s all I am to you, a piece of ginger?” and Bella said, “Does that make me the wasabi?” The car in front of us drove off. Instead of stopping to pay, I exited the lot. “What are you doing?” Bella said. “We ordered food.” “Sushi,” I said and Bella said, “Perfect.” I headed back toward downtown. We wouldn’t get home until nine at least, not if we sushied right. “Let’s get enough so they have to put it on a boat,” I said, and Bella said, “One hundred percent. We need to ask for it so they don’t forget and use a tray.” “Yeah,” I said. “It’s not the same without the boat.”