Onions

The onions kept repeating.

She sat up in bed, quietly trying to burp to relieve the pressure in her stomach. She glanced over at him, asleep. Worn out actually. She smiled, quite pleased with herself. They had both been invited to the same New Year's Eve party of a mutual friend, and both had decided to bail at the same time. Her new shoes made her feet hurt; he was bored with trying to make conversations with women half his age. Each trying to evade the march of time. They acknowledged each other in the elevator.

"Not as much fun as it used to be, is it" he murmured.

She gave a tired little laugh.

"No. I keep telling myself I need to get out and meet new people, yet all I really want to do is sit on my couch in my pajamas."

He smiled, knowing exactly what she meant.

The elevator doors opened, he held the door open for her, letting his eyes wander down the length of her form. He stopped as he caught a glimpse of her shoes; black stilettos with multiple gold buckles wrapping half way up her calves. He let his eyes wander to the street, covered in slush and enormous puddles.

"Your feet will freeze if you try to walk home in those shoes."

She turned her head and smiled a knowing smile at him. He was kinda cute, she thought.

"You're probably right. I decided to go for style instead of comfort tonight; I don't think I can feel my toes anymore."

"You should put them up."

He blushed slightly at the possibility of a double entendre.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I know a place where we can get a great wedge."

She looked at him blankly.

"What's a wedge?"

A confused look crossed his face as he tried to think. He started to mold something long and thin with his hands.

"You know, it's a sandwich, on a long piece of bread, usually with cheese and salami and ham and capicola, with oil and vinegar. That's what we call them in Rhode Island."

She smiled back at him, finding him even more appealing as he struggled to explain himself.

"You mean a hoagie. That's what we call them in Philly. And you need to add lettuce, tomato and onion on it. Never mayonnaise."

He scrunched up his face in mock horror.

"Mayonnaise! How uncivilized."

He reached out his hand; she hesitated for two seconds, then took it. He managed to hail a cab, and twenty minutes later they were downtown at some hole-in-the-wall deli, a large wedge with the works sitting on the table, surrounded by cole slaw, fat dill pickles, deviled eggs, and several bottles of beer. God, she thought, I'm gonna feel this in the morning.


She sat up in bed, trying to gently rock the burp out of her when she felt his hand on the small of her back. He rolled over and placed his other hand on her stomach, beginning to rub it counter clock wise; she let out a loud 'UUURRRPP'. She clasped a hand to her mouth, an embarrassed giggle following.

"I'm SO sorry. That's so un-lady like."

He laughed softly and placed his head in her lap.

"You actually lost your lady like behavior when you finished that entire half of the wedge, plus the pickles and slaw."

"I don't think I lost any points, did I?"

He smiled up at her, letting his hand brush the side of her cheek. He let his fingers weave into her hair, pulling her slowly down towards him. She hesitated slightly.

"Let me rinse my mouth. Onion breath."

He pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. He'd never liked the taste of onions as much as he did right at that moment.