The Case of the Deathwatch Beetle, pt. 1
Melissa was pleased they were finally letting you touch menus again. All the QR codes and hands-off technology felt silly to her. If they were so afraid of the disease spreading through contact, why let people eat in restaurants? It didn’t make sense.
She looked over the menu while waiting for Sarah. Sarah wasn’t a perpetually late person, but Melissa was early and a few moments alone were welcome. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her life, her husband, children, the university job, but it could be overwhelming at times. A second to sit and stare at the laminated menu was a moment to breathe and casually make a decision without having to compromise with a husband or guide her children.
Which is why it was so irritating to be interrupted. From the other side of her menu a phlegmy voice asked, “Spare any change?”
Melissa tilted the menu just enough to see the raggedy man standing behind it, next to her booth, ashen gray skin covered with pockmarks, hair stringy and disheveled. His clothes were no better, looking like they had been hung up on a clothesline and spattered with mud.
Melissa held the menu closer to her as if it were a shield, eyes darting past the man to scan the restaurant for signs of the help. No server walked the floor, leaving Melissa feeling exposed and wondering at the incompetence that allowed the beggar inside.
“No, sorry, I only have my credit cards.” she said, chagrinned. She held the menu up towards her mouth as she spoke, trying to keep their breathe particles from interacting.
“C’mon,” the man leaned forward, close enough that Melissa could see the burst blood vessels in his eyes. “Nice place like this, you got to have a few bucks.”
Even as Melissa shrank from the man she could feel it emboldening him, her discomfort and fear causing him to swell as if he was one of the ticks that surely scuttled across his body.
“Let me check.” Melissa held the menu higher, hoping to block the beggar’s vision as she reached into her purse, searching for her smartphone. But who would she call? What would she say? There’s a man here asking her for a bit of charity? There’s a man in a public place that doesn’t belong in the same space as her because he has no money? That she’s being interrupted in one of the few moments of her life that she had to be alone?
It was, she realized, this last one that truly bothered her. When she returned from the depths of her purse, there was a leer on the man’s face that Melissa inferred as his intent, to rob her of this simple moment of comfort, to intimidate her into giving her money, or perhaps just for the pleasure of discomfiting her.
“No,” she lied, then stopped herself. “I mean, I do have a few dollars, but I’m not going to give them to you.” As Melissa uttered these words of truth, she lowered the menu slightly, bringing down the barricade, even as the man’s eyes hardened and bore into her. “You’ve wandered in here and interrupted me while –“
As Melissa continued in her explanation, the beggar seemed to enlarge, straightening and swelling, as if something was pushing up from his feet, surging from the ground, up his legs, until it threw his head back and then forward, surging into a stream of vomit that splattered onto her. She barely had a moment to close her mouth and eyes as the warm, chunky flow covered her face, spattering across all of her, covering her in a dirty film like an oil spill.
Finally, if too late, a policeman appeared behind the man and grabbed his arms, forcing his elbows behind his back, slamming his face onto the table. His anger collided with Melissa’s stupefaction, leaving her speechless as the officer yelled at the vagrant, throttling him in a way that would have shocked Melissa if she hadn’t already been astonished beyond words.
The policeman uttered apologies to her, saving most of his energy and vocabulary to drag the homeless man away. As the pair receded, Melissa could feel the restaurant staff closing in, preparing comfort and clean wipes.
Before they could, though, the vomiter looked her in the eye one last time and said, “Thanks for the change, lady.”
Melissa could only wonder what he meant.
You can read the second part of The Case of the Deathwatch Beetle here.
See the author’s published work here.
Related Posts
The America: Trouble on All Sides (pt. 4) Next Post:
The American: Trouble at Work (pt. 1)
