Just Friends

Jonah and Susan have been best friends forever, or at least since High School. They met when they both auditioned for the theatre club’s production of “The Angry Inch.” Ever since then, they’ve shared the intimate details of their lives, supporting each other through triumphs and tragedies, like when Susan dyed her hair purple or when Jonah moved to Queens.

Their relationship has always been strictly platonic. The only time Jonah and Susan “slept together” was on the bus coming back from a Renaissance Festival in Schenectady.

This sunny afternoon, Susan is meeting Jonah for lunch at The Bistro Cafe on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. He arrived early and was seated at an outdoor table as far away from the street as possible. Aside from avoiding the traffic, noise, and possible CO2 poisoning, he’s been suspicious of pedestrians since the time a passerby reached in and grabbed a bunch of his fries.

Susan takes the seat facing Jonah, and they exchange the obligatory urban greeting. “Hi-how-are-you-I’m-fine-what’s-new-with-you-oh-you -know-oh-nothing-special.” She picks up the menu, takes a quick look, and, as is her habit, starts a conversation with a couple at the next table, ignoring Jonah completely. “Is that tabooli? It looks delicious. What else would you recommend?”

Despite the banter, Jonah notices that Susan’s just not as “bubbly” as usual. “Anything wrong?” he asks, “You seem a bit down, or are you just hungover?”

“Both,” she says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, hardly noticing the complimentary, locally sourced Frisse salad with organic goat cheese and a raspberry-balsamic drizzle that the waiter had just set before them. “It’s my boyfriend Alan…” Her voice trails off.

“Alan? Who’s Alan?” Jonah asks. “What happened to Gabe?”

“Gabe was two boyfriends ago.”

“Two? Who came after Gabe?”

“Emil, and then Brad, oh, and of course, Mongo.”

” Yes, Mongo, ” Jonah continues, “Anyway, what’s with Alan?”

Oh, you know, MEN! They’re all such pigs—not you, of course. I think of you as a brother—or maybe an unattractive sister—but every guy I meet is a jerk. They only care about how big your boobs are, how tight your ass is, how “hot” you are so they can impress their “bros.” Can they get any more superficial?”

Jonah seeks clarification, “What was that about being your sister?”

Susan continues, “Every time I meet a guy…,” her voice trailed off again.

They silently tuck into their lunches—she with her non-GMO kale and quinoa egg-white omelet, and he with the soy lasagna with gluten-free pasta.

After a couple of bites, Jonah looks up at Susan, puts down his fork, and takes a deep breath. “We’ve been close friends for a long time…” Susan, not looking up as she picks at her lunch, “You’re my best friend. I can share anything with you. You’re smart and funny…”

Jonah goes for it, “So, what about us?”

Susan, still not looking up, “What about, what about us?”

Jonah: “You and me. Dating. Going out. Seeing each other.”

Susan: “That’s what I love about you.”

“Love…?!” Jonah says hopefully.

Susan, “That great sense of humor…you always know how to make me laugh.”

Jonah: “No, I’m serious.”

Susan, laughing as she looks at Jonah, “Now you’re teasing me. So sweet of you to cheer me up.

“No, I’m serious,” Jonah is getting annoyed. He’s still smarting from that “sister” remark.

Susan: “Dating, seeing each other, sleeping together—but for real, not like on the bus. Oh, dear sweet Jonah. It just wouldn’t work”

Jonah: “Why not?”

Susan, trying not to hurt his feelings: “Do you really want to know?”

Jonah: “Yes—I REALLY want to know.”

Susan: “Well…for one thing, you’re too short.”

Jonah: “Short!?! I’m taller than you are.”

Susan: Yes, but you’re not TALL tall. I have a 5″ 11 minimum. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it.”

Jonah: “Now that you mention it.

Susan: You’re also bald. You lost all the beautiful hair you had in college.

Anything else?” he says impatiently.

Susan, checking off a list in her head, continues, “Well, you’re kinda out of shape—here I have a minimum and maximum weight requirement— you’ve had the same job for ten years, you’re not exactly wealthy, and your eyes are too close together.”

Jonah squints in disbelief and sheepishly returns to his lasagna.

They finish their lunch in silence, not looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Susan picks up her head and blurts out, Whoa. Will you look at that…”

Jonah: “What’s that”? Who?”

Susan: “That tall, lean hunk over there…”

Jonah: “Where? Him? The guy in the dumpster?

“Hmm-Hmm. Yeees!” She purred. She may have drooled just a little.

Jonah: “The Homeless guy?”

Susan: “He’s so tall and rugged-looking.”

Jonah: “He’s in a dumpster. It looks like he’s rummaging around for something to eat. I think he’s the guy who stole my French Fries.

Susan: “I’ve always been a sucker for a Bad Boy.

Jonah: “Oh, he’s pretty bad. He’s fighting with a rat for that organic chicken leg.”

Susan: “A He-Man who is not afraid to go get what he wants.”

Jonah: “He’s wearing one of those hospital wristbands. He could be a mental patient.”

Susan “…and speaking of his head, look at that hair, not to mention that tight butt. I’m going over and talk to him. Can you be a dear and take care of the bill? I’ll call you later.”

Susan goes over to introduce herself. “I was having lunch over there with a friend, and I couldn’t help but notice how you dealt with that rat. Hi, my name is Susan.” She says, playing with her hair, licking her lips, and doing all the flirty things “girls” do. “I just love the food here. It’s one of my favorite restaurants in the city.”

“I know. I eat here a lot, too,” says Dumpster Guy, looking up at her for a minute before fighting with the rat again, this time over a half-eaten individual pizza with artichoke hearts and truffle oil.

“My name is Hound Dog…” he says as he takes a bite of the hotly contested pizza.

“If you’re not busy tonight, I’d like to come by and see you again. I can bring you dinner that hasn’t been eaten already.”

“Boy—I can’t remember the last time I ate something that didn’t have teeth marks in it.”

Being a special evening, he “showers” in the Men’s room at Penn Station and, as luck would have it, finds a relatively clean shirt in a trash can.

True to her word, Susan shows up with a couple of take-out meals from Cafe Bistro—a veal piccata for her and, based on his encounter with the rats, she guesses he’d go for the Chicken Parmagiana.

He invites her into the dumpster. It’s empty and clean on Thursdays, and they spend the night eating, talking, getting to know each other, and scaring off more rats. She thinks they’re just the cutest.

“How do you stay in such good shape?” She asks

“Well, diet…I usually don’t take in many calories, you know. And being homeless, I’m moving around a lot outdoors, so I get plenty of what you could call exercise.”

“You’re amazing,” she says as they start to make out.

Over the next few weeks, Jonah doesn’t see much of Susan—he thinks he catches a glimpse of her coming out of the dumpster next to the Bistro Cafe, but by then he’s beyond caring.

For her part, she found the world of Hound Dog to be “authentic.”

He showed her the best places to get half-eaten sandwiches and day-old baked goods. Which movie theaters were easy to sneak into to take a nap—usually poorly attended foreign indie films—almost nobody goes to those!

He also taught her about the abandoned subway stations and the sewer line connecting the IRT with the BMT. He also introduced her to his friends—Shopping Cart Mary, Paper Cup Willy, Broadway Alice, and of course, Byron.

She also enjoyed showing him off to her girlfriends, who would say things like, “He’s so tall!” and “Look at the tight butt.” Her best friend, Sandra, went so far as to say, “He’s so hot, I’m going to start cruising Men’s Shelters!”

She took him to parties where he regaled her male friends with stories of life on, over, and under the streets. He told them of his experiences hiding from the police during tourist season, singing on the subway for “bus fare”—he once did a tribute to Judy Garland, which kept him in quarters for weeks — and sleeping in abandoned buildings, which was much easier before gentrification.

It was a whirlwind six weeks. Susan saw and ate parts of the city she never knew existed.

Then, Hound Dog would suddenly be too “busy” to see her. “How could he be unavailable?” she asked herself. “It’s not like he has a board meeting or a job, or an apartment or even a dog.”

She thought he might be sick, that the police had finally picked him up, or that he had gotten lost on the Canarsie Line again. Growing more concerned with each passing day, she decided to go check on him. To her horror, she caught him in the act—cheating on her with Sandra in their dumpster.

“Sandra!” Susan spits out her name, “I thought you were cruising the Men’s Shelter.” “I did,” she said. “I ran into Hound Dog, and we started talking and…here we are.”

“She’s got these great boobs.” Hound Dog added. “My bros at the soup kitchen were really impressed!”

The following week found Susan and Jonah at a different Upper West Side Cafe, this one without a dumpster.

“All men ARE worms,” she sighs, picking at her plate of grilled Argentine baby vegetables.

:“…and some of them live with worms,” Jonah couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, just shut up…” Susan snaps.

Pausing for a moment, she sees Jonah in a different light. “Jonah,” she asks “What are you doing tonight?”