Q came for Easter Eve. I got the call when he was halfway here. What's wrong, I asked. I haven't had much sleep, he said. Uh-oh, I thought. I was getting "Q point 0."
We had lunch--perfect Bloody Marys--then came home for some wine, a Bandol he had brought as a result of an article I sent him from the N.Y. Times. Then it was time for cocktails. Off to the Pig and Whistle for fancy gin and tonics followed by some fu-fu cocktail that a fellow I know insisted we try--a Blood and Sand. Another friend showed up, so we switched back to gin for a couple more. I looked up at the television above the bar. The place would be perfect but for that. There were Hollywood Arabs, I think, and Charlton Heston. Exodus? We read the captions for a bit. Then the bill. They were VERY proud of those cocktails. Then off to dinner. We all had the special because none of us could read the menu. I think Q asked the waiter how he planned to serve us and if the chef was going to rape us. Drinks. There was a t.v here, too. Why? Who in the fuck watches television while chowing on a hundred dollar dinner?
"Why are there so many men in this movie," Q asked?
"I think it's 'Brokeback Egypt,'" I said. He was right. There were far too many men in costumes. Yul Brenner, for god's sake. Everyone was too clean.
It was late then, nine-thirty or ten. I had bought turmeric and raw honey. If we were going to do facials, we would have to hurry.
But no. A final scotch, some drunken philosophy. Sleep.
I don't know what happened in the night. The cat never cries. When I got up, she looked terrified.
Happy Easter. We are risen.
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