"Hi."
"Whazzup!"   Myles Glickman.   Dressed for a corporate meeting.   "Jesus, what a day!"
"I guess you haven't made it home yet?"
"No.   I'm so hungry, I'm gonna eat this necktie."
I hand him a menu.   Tonight, for extra hours, Rochelle's here, and they're running her ass ragged.   They're shorthanded tonight.   "You're gonna have to be patient, they're kinda understaffed."
"Patience is a virtue, or so they say."
The Palmetto's packed tonight.   Mostly kids.   They look like a CNJ or Rider University crowd.   A laughing, joyous, Friday night crowd.   I can't hear who's on the satellite feed.   That actually may be a good thing.
"I'm glad you're around.   I need a smile on my face tonight."
"At your service, as always!"
"Today was a very long day.   Make me laugh, Myles.   Make believe we're in eighth grade again."
Myles turns away.   He then turns back, and his eyelids are turned inside out.   He raises his hands at me like some silver screen monster, and gives a quavering moan.   I can't help but smile.
"See!   You're smiling now."
"Yep."
"I know what I'm gonna have.   How 'bout you?   My treat."
I look at the menu.   "I think I'll have a chef's salad or something."
Rochelle finally makes her way over.   She's in speed mode.   She greets Myles with "Hi, honey!"
He greets her with the flipped eyelids and the raised hands and the moaning voice.  
"You stop goofin' and give me your order."
He gets himself back into shape, and tells her, "roast beef wrap with side of fries."
"Greek salad," I say.
Rochelle snaps her pad shut, and races away.
"I spoke to Phil Pearson today."
"No!"
"You know, he never forgot you."
Phil sat next to Myles in Social Studies.   Both sat in front of me.   Phil played straight man to Myles, who might as well have told us he'd be here till June, and try the veal, it's good.   Phil was a big, teddy bear kid with blonde hair, whose father was a reserve Army Sergeant Major in the Quartermasters.   "What's he doing?"
"Today, he's a member of The Brotherhood."
Huh?
He saw my inquiring eye.  "Brotherhood.   Of Divorced Males.   He got his papers today."
"I'm sorry to hear that."   The sound of Terry Jacks singing 'Seasons In The Sun' can be heard on the satellite feed; I hope to hell that the noise the college kids happen to be making doesn't ebb.   "Kids?"
"A daughter.   She's going to Stony Brook."
"Ouch."
"This is his second divorce."
"Maybe he should quit while he's ahead."
"More like behind."
"Where's he living?"
"He's out in Riverhead now."
"Pretty much the end of the earth."
"Back in the day, yeah!"   Myles pulls a Cross pen from his pocket, and doodles on the placemat with the map of New Jersey on it.   "It's all developed out there now, you wouldn't recognize it."
"Meanwhile, how long have you been divorced?"
"Three years.   An amicable parting of the ways.   I'm here now, and she's down in Dallas, following a dream."
"You happy?"
"I don't know.   Are you happy?"
"When have I ever been happy?"
Myles stares at the ceiling.   "Good question."
"I am happy with my marriage.   My life, not so happy, but I've never been happy."
"Know what I remember?   I remember you playing hooky from school."
He does have a good memory!     "You know what?   New Years morning, I took Brenda out there, by the bay.   Next to Fort Totten.   I showed her where I used to play hooky."
"You point out where I lived?"
"She did ask about those apartments on the other side of the bridge approach."
"I remember how unhappy you were in those days.   I remember how you felt completely alone in this world."
"I was."
"I recall how we used to ride our bikes down to the marina, and all the way down to Northern Boulevard, and it was like you were on another planet."
"Right."
"Most of all, I remember how some of us wanted to reach out, and try to help in some way, but you were a kinda forbidding person."
"I don't know how much you could've helped."   I stare down at my placemat.   "I was a basketcase."
Rochelle comes over with our orders.   "Here you go."
"Thanks," I say.   I love Greek salad.   Plenty of black olives and stuffed grape leaves and onions and feta.   A meal for a King.   Or, to throw dishes at a Greek wedding by...