Something About the Despair

My doctor told me I have to stop saying that. The salt, I mean. Apparently my blood pressure is — and I quote — "a ticking clock, Bob."

We're at the pretzel cart outside the DMV. Where we've been standing for — what is it now — three hours? I always end up telling strangers things I shouldn't at the DMV. Something about the fluorescent lighting. Or maybe the despair.

That's a generous read on it. Last time I was here I told a complete stranger about my divorce before I even learned her name. She was number G-47. I remember because I was G-48 and I thought — I thought that meant we were meant to meet. We were not meant to meet.

That's a beautiful philosophy. It's also exactly what my uncle Carmine said. Right up until his third stroke. He was eating a pretzel at the time, actually. So in a way... you two would have gotten along great.

Honestly? I think I'm dying. Not — not dramatically. Just. Slowly. The way the DMV makes everything feel. And I keep coming back here, taking a number, eating a pretzel, talking to strangers, because I don't know what else to do with that information.

Your tenth. Today. And you said doctors are the buzzkills. I have eaten one pretzel, Mo. One. And I have been standing here for three hours working up the courage to ask you — what number are you?

Mo. Mo, look at me. I confessed to a stranger about my divorce over a number ticket. I just told you I think I'm dying, standing outside a DMV, holding a pretzel I'm not even allowed to finish. The least you can do is tell me your name isn't G-47.

It means I have been standing outside this DMV for eleven years waiting for you to come back. I just didn't know it until right now. G-47. You were supposed to go in before me. You were supposed to be gone. And instead you're here, on your tenth pretzel, telling me to stop listening to my doctor, and I think — I think that might be the most romantic thing that's ever happened to me. Which is either a sign that I should ask you to dinner, or a sign that my blood pressure has finally done something irreversible to my brain.