Thinking Quietly at the Flea Market
The following weekend, Jan takes Steve to the flea market. It has a large open area. The roof is the only solid part to the structure, inside are small partial, temporary walls, creating individual stalls that separate each of the vendors. Many people mill about. Jan walks along, checking out the fresh fruits and vegetables. Steve follows, weighed down with bags.
He looks off, lost in thought, but doesn’t seem bored. “Steve, you okay?” Jan asks. “Huh, what?” Steve answers. “You seem kind of... distant. Are you bored?” Jan asks. “No, not at all. Just... thinking about...stuff,” Steve says. “Really? I mean, you’re okay with...shopping?” Jan questions. Steve begins to laugh. Steve turns to Jan and says, “Yes, Jan. I’m fine with it.
If it makes you happy, I’m happy. Besides, it gives me time to think. I just sort of... organize my thoughts and...stuff.” “Wow. I’ve got to say, Steve, you’ve never been like most guys I’ve dated. Some of them, God, they would rather die than go shopping.” Jan and Steve continue through the flea market grounds. They come to a booth that is a business venture.
Jan moves on, but Steve stops. He sets down the bags, and whips out his iPhone. He types in some notes and picks up a brochure about the business. Jan and Steve’s time together drifts into the evening as they walk hand in hand through a restaurant with an opulent dining room. A lovely dinner table and chairs sit in the middle of the room.
Classic furniture and fixtures line the room’s perimeter. After placing their orders, and receiving their meals. Jan and Steve have dinner by candlelight. “I’m not saying we knew where my uncle was headed when he died.” Steve says. “But, we did bury him in an asbestos suit with a fire extinguisher in each hand.”