“So, how about some pie, ladies?” I said as I set down a dessert menu. They both groaned and laughed with a huffing wheeze as I organized empty plates, scraped (almost licked) clean, into a stack. This after they exclaimed with wide eyes how huge the cobb salad and blue cheese burger with coleslaw looked.
“Oh no,” said Woman On My Left. “I’m so full! I couldn’t eat another bite.”
I gestured to some indistinct place around my kidney. “Well, you know there’s a special dessert space in our stomachs waiting to be filled, no matter how full the other side gets.” I smiled. “I’ll leave you with the dessert menu just to satisfy your curiosity. Besides pie, we have a white chocolate raspberry cheesecake that’s to die for.” I picked up their dirty dishes and walked away.
When I returned, check in hand in case they were ready to leave, I asked, “Are we having something sweet?”
Woman On My Left said, as if I should stop the presses for some big news, “We decided to share a slice of pie.”
“Great!” I chirped. “Which one?”
They stared at each other briefly. “What kind of pie would you like?” she asked Woman On My Right, frowning with concentration.
The friend deferred grandly. “I like banana cream. But, I don’t care. You pick. Pick any pie.”
Woman On My Left stared at the menu for a few seconds. “Ooh! How about Pecan?”
“Oh, I love pecan,” I said, hoping to rush a decision. It was a busy lunch.
Woman On Her Right’s face scrunched towards her nose. “Oh no. Pecans give me gas. I don’t eat nuts anymore.”
“Well, what would you like?”
“Whatever you like. You pick.”
Woman on the Left furrowed her brows and tried again. “Mmm, chocolate sounds good. How about the chocolate satin pie?”
“The chocolate satin here is amazing,” I said, not caring which pie they ordered. I just needed them to order.
“Oh, I don’t like chocolate. It still gives me acne–and at my age!” Woman On My Right chuckled at herself.
“Lemon meringue?”
“It’s my very favorite pie!” I said, trying not to sound pushy.
“Oh no, citrus makes my stomach acid-y. Gave up oranges and lemons long ago.”
They stared at each other some more. I stared too.
“Razzleberry?” suggested Woman On My Left.
“People love that pie. It’s especially good with ice cream,” I said.
“No, can’t do berries either. Those tiny seeds stick in my teeth.”
Pause.
“Well, what pie do you like?”
“Something creamy would be nice. I like banana cream. But really, pick whatever you like,” said Woman On My Right with a wave of her hand.
Pause. Woman On My Left’s eyes seemed to narrow around a knife point. “Shall we get the banana cream?”
“Oh, yes, that sounds good.”
“We’ll have banana cream.”