Harbinger: A Journal of Art & Literature | 2018-2019

me eat lately.
HECTOR: What’s her name?
JAMES: Beg your pardon?
HECTOR: What’s the girl’s name?
JAMES: (Shifts on the bench uncomfortably) What makes you think there’s a girl?
HECTOR: Well, (Pauses to swallow a cracker) I figure there’s only a few things that
makes a boy of your age not want to eat. You’re either hungover, sick, or lovesick. It’s 1
PM, and you don’t look like a cat just dragged you in from the gutter, so hungover is out.
You don’t look green or nauseas, but you do look nervous enough to wash my car with
the sweat on your palms. So again I ask: What’s her name?
JAMES: Her name is Melanie.
HECTOR: That’s a very pretty name. Is she the girlfriend? (Opens and takes a drink of
a his Topo Chico mineral water)
JAMES: No, my girlfriend’s name is Anna-Lisa.
HECTOR: Ah, this… (Motions at JAMES) ...is starting to make sense. And the bag? To
which of the lovely ladies are we traveling to?
JAMES: (Sighs guiltily) Not to my girlfriend.
HECTOR: I see. How long of a trip are you about to make for this ‘girl who is not your
girlfriend?’ If you don’t mind me asking of course.
JAMES: Roughly 8 hours there and 8 hours back.
HECTOR: That must be quite a lie you told, Anna-Lisa, is it? You must have a tongue
of silver and words of silk to get away with a whole weekend. (Winks playfully at
JAMES )
JAMES: Not really. Anna-Lisa, my girlfriend, left for the long weekend to go see her parents
in the valley. (He watches HECTOR bite into a sandwich) As for the other girl, she
doesn’t know I am coming yet. The plan was to show up at her door and pray she was
home. The eight hours was to fine tune the plan… or come up with a better one. Now
that I’m here… (Pauses to look at train ticket) …this doesn’t feel as right as it did an hour
ago… (Drifts off in thought)