A Friend's Day Out

I befriended a fellow writer at a gathering several years ago. We immediately bonded before the others even arrived, almost like long lost siblings. I consider him the little brother I never had. He goes by the name Scars, which I’ve encouraged, because his lifelong battle with arthritis has ravaged his body.

This disabled gentleman tends his ailing uncle while his widower father travels, which happens a great deal, and visits his lovely lady in Texas when able. Since he had free time both Wednesday (when I was busy) and Thursday, I reached out.

My husband didn’t feel ready for a lengthy outing. But bless him, he wanted me to get out and have fun. So Scars and I met at one of my favorite restaurants where he insisted on buying my lunch. The place has delicious South American cuisine and a stellar enclosed patio.

We sat beneath that yellow window.

Afterward he further exhibited his gallant nature. After I freshened up and emerged from El Meson he sat in his car having a quick smoke. I walked over and resumed talking before realizing he had a podcast playing.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “you’re listening to something.”

“I’m listing to you,” he replied without pause.

How sweet is that? And speaking of sweet, have you ever eaten Columbian arepas de choclo, or any South American cuisine?

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