The Geographer's Library

The Geographer’ s Library
“You guys do sort of catering deals? My firm—I’m in packing boxes and
sealing tape, by the way, run a little firm over in Dearborn with an office here
in Skokie. Anyway, we got to host some out-of-towners, big shots in from
Omaha thinking about placing a major order, and what I want to know is,
food here’s good, so I was wondering if you could make a special lunch for
maybe eighteen, twenty people.”
“Yes, sir, of course we can do. When for?”
“Ah, week after next, I think. It’s not totally set yet.”
“Okay, so you get set let me know, or you want to talk about food
maybe now?”
“I can just tell you later, I guess. Just wanted to make sure you do this sort
of thing.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Should I talk to you about it or to the owner?”
“Either.”
“Say, great. So what’s the owner’s name? And what’s yours, by the way?”
“I’m Wang. The owner, everyone calls him Harry.”
“Well, it sure is good to meet you, Wang. I’m Chet.”
“Okay, Mr. Chet. Today I make for you a Shanghai soup with pork and
preserved mustard greens. Not on the menu; only for Chinese people, but
you will like very much, I know.”
day seventeen: He stayed away today, wanting to see whether his
absence would be noticed. Naturally, he left his room appropriately dressed
(white striped shirt, blue-and-green-striped tie, powder blue Sansabelt slacks,
Dexter saddle wingtips) and at the proper time. He filled his time in the usual
manner, too: driving, watching, getting the feel of the brief, cliché-based conversations
so essential to American communication. Last week he worked on
the phrases “Just goes to show you” and “Funny you should say that”; this
week’s tasks were “If it works, it works” and “Can’t do a thing about it.” Two
phrases of resignation, one of satisfaction with the present that implied a certain
chariness of improvement, and one used to pivot a conversation away
from one’s interlocutor to oneself. Abulfaz vowed to stay away from the latter.
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