You never realize quite how fucking awful your hands can be until they’re shoved two inches from your nostrils. The smell, texture…ugh… the taste even.
I shouldn’t complain. My girlfriend Tylie says I always shit on anything nice that she tries to do for me. So I was determined to make an effort to prove her wrong this time. She was taking me on a surprise date. There had been a bit too much distance between us lately than either of us would care to admit. My job kicked my everloving ASS that day and all I wanted to do was go home, turn on the tv and smoke in bed. But sometimes, a few hours of your time overextending yourself is better than a few hours spent in either an argument or worse, awkward silence.
Alright fine… I’m not being completely transparent here. I guess you could say that our relationship issues are my fault. She… we had a false pregnancy scare. Her period was missing, like… milk carton kid missing. We took tests and they were all negative, but it didn’t matter. Not when her mother got three months of false negatives when she was pregnant with her and her brother Tom. The soonest the doctor could get her in was in nine days.
Well naturally a lot of planning, dreaming and talking went on in those nine days. It wasn’t what I had wanted. Tylie knew I never wanted to get married. I was up front with her about it from the start. And wouldn’t you know, she mentioned the word five times in those nine days. She came at it from every angle, health insurance reasons, taxes, she even went as far as to say that she didn’t want the child ostracized for having a different last name as their mother- which is offensive as fuck. She became more animated, her eyes sparkling more each time she broached the subject. I mean sure, I loved her. But it was just bad news if you asked me.
As hard as I tried, she could tell I wasn’t as warm to the idea of having a baby as she was. She almost seemed to feel it on a cellular level. She beamed about baby clothes and pregnancy glow. But when I looked at her, it’s almost like she was rotting before my eyes, turning bad like an over ripened banana. I saw stretch marks and sagging breasts. They say they’re never the same after childbirth ya know.
I’d never met any of the other women in her family, so it was hard to gauge just what I would be dealing with. Though I didn’t expect things to stay that way for long. Tylie and her family were insanely close, almost morbidly so. I was always hearing about something that had happened to this person or that one. Whether they’d meant to or not, her family had conditioned… groomed in a way, her to live her life akin to a do’s and dont’s list.
Well anyhow, by the time the doctor’s appointment came around, her late visitor had shown up. Tylie was heartbroken, devastated in a way that I didn’t know her sweet, sunshiney soul was capable of. I tried my best to be there for her, to match the energy of her sorrow while maintaining enough strength for the both of us. But after a short while there was nothing I could do. We moved on. Whether it was in the same or opposite directions was something that remained to be seen.
Tylie withdrew more and more from me, until one day I came home and found her gone completely. It scared the hell out of me at first if I’m honest. There was enough evidence left behind for it to be obvious that she had left of her own free will. She even went so far as to change her phone number, which took only moments to do. It was so easy now; you just call a number and within five minutes you can get yourself a brand spanking new number. No questions asked.
After the initial sting of rejection and betrayal wore off, I began to feel a bit different. It was like pieces shifted, revealing the bigger picture underneath. Of course I loved her. She was perfection. But sooner or later it would boil down to the bare fact that she wanted kids, and I didn’t. Sure, some guys can fall so in love with a girl that they’d give her children anyway just to make her happy. But how does that end up being fair to the kids? My days became less lonely and more grateful. I wished her happiness, but held her less and less responsible for my own.
But I’m only human, right? I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you. When she showed up on my doorstep three months later, all the healing fell away. She leapt into my arms and I gladly let her do it. As it turned out, the love I had for her was just as strong as it was the day that she left. Tylie never said where she was and what she’d been doing, and I honestly didn’t have the heart to ask. Even with the bigger picture revealed, I couldn’t resist enjoying just a little more time.
That’s why I was hopeful and almost excited when she brought up the date. I was sure we could get out of the awkward rut we were stuck in. Maybe I’d even get lucky, I mused privately. She’d been spotting off and on since the pregnancy scare she said. Due to stress I imagined. That’s also why I tried not to push her on it either.
Anyway, ultimately there had to be a way to move past the scenario we had just narrowly avoided along with the words and lost time that went along with it. Words that never even needed to be said and time that needn’t have been missed in the first place, mind you. But I guess that rabid cat’s out of the bag now aint it?
She stayed quiet on the ride over, leaving me questioning whether to enjoy the peace or have it invade my nerves like a sweeping plague. Her hand drifted over to the back of my neck as we pulled into the parking lot. She knew feeling her skin against that spot always sent goosebumps over my upper body. It may have been manipulation or love. But you can say that about any number of things in life I guess. Almost every aspect of life contains the capacity of both good and evil, and whichever one you’re partial to shades the connotation of it.
“Uhh, are you sure we’re in the right place?” I asked, genuinely concerned. Whatever we pulled up in front of didn’t even look inhabited, let alone a place of business. She opened the car door in response, allowing the air to blow the scent of delicious food inside. That told me about everything I needed to know. We were going out to dinner apparently. And Jesus Christ was I hungry. Bursts of meat and spices traveled through my respiratory system more intensely with each step. By the time we reached the doorway I was practically salivating.
A cream colored sign with blood red colored lettering above the entrance read Tama Jesti. One quick Google search on Tylie’s phone told us the words roughly translated to Dark Eats in Croatian. I’d heard of these types of places before, restaurants that serve a type of sensory deprivation effect. You basically eat in the dark, blindfolded in some places even.
I’ll admit I wasn’t thrilled with the idea. I’m certainly not the pickiest of eaters, but I wasn’t too explorative either. Either way, I liked to look at what I ate. One of the first things you’ll learn about working in a fancy kitchen is that people eat with their eyes before their mouths. I always wondered if that was why God made fruits and vegetables such a various array of bright colors. Picture a beige plate with a piece of skinless chicken breast, rice and poultry gravy. I mean fuck, if you’re hungry enough you’ll eat anything but still, that’s one boring ass lookin’ meal. Throw some zucchini and squash on there with a little side salad and it looks a little better don’t it? Just something to think about.
Anyway, how I felt about the experience didn’t matter much. Tylie had been very understanding as of late and didn’t really ask for too much for herself to begin with. Maybe this would become our new thing. Maybe there was something sensual about eating at a table together in the dark. Who the fuck was I to say unless I tried it, right?
The inside wasn’t very well lit. Which in my mind didn’t bode well for the chefs in the kitchen. Maybe their area is light sealed but brightly lit,I thought distractedly. From what I could see, it looked appropriate for the season. At the same time though I doubted it looked much different in March or January. It wasn’t Halloween in the pumpkin, witches and goblins sense. The theme was just… macabre honestly. From the sconces that covered the walls (electric candles by the way) to the menus, all the way down to the napkin holders. All it needed was a corner candy bowl and they’d be set. Fuck, now I want candy, I remember thinking at the time.
It wasn’t long before we were seated at a corner booth. Two blindfolds lay over our pristinely made table, confirming my suspicions from when we had arrived. The last thing I saw after we were seated were Tylie’s eyes sparkling at mine with excitement. And in no time at all they had already brought something out for us to eat.
Suddenly it occurred to me that I didn’t have a chance to wash my hands. It’s amazing how many things get transferred by contact in one single day, mainly by touch. You scratch your armpit, go to the bathroom, adjust your balls, scratch your face. It’s a common practice (in the old days of washing up before dinner at least) to wash your hands before you eat. But what about afterward?
Anyway, once I got past trying to identify the scents on my fingertips, I took my first bite. It was clean, crisp and buttery. I imagined it was a piece of toasted bread. A miniscule grunt of satisfaction escaped my lips as it slid down my throat. I took the second bite faster, savoring it less. A tanginess enveloped the third, a rich jammy flavor melted into my tongue as tiny gell-filled bubbles burst with each bite. Savory boba on toast? I thought quizzically. Whatever it was- tasted wonderful. The sounds Tylie was making assured me that she agreed.
I was pleased to feel a second, unattended piece. However this one was smeared with something that tasted acrid and earthy. My eyes struggled against the blindfold as I politely reached out for the plate to put it back when a hand blocked my way. It then reached to my shoulder as a musty breathed man whispered a single word in my ear: EAT.
My stomach filled slowly as they placed each tapas-sized offering in front of my face. I’d never been a fan of small portions honestly. It always just seemed like a way to rip people off. My mind reeled at the thought of how much this was all going to set me back. Sure, Tylie said it was her treat but we share finances. Her treat is my treat so to speak. I tried to lighten my own mood, joking to myself internally that as long as there were no tricks we’d be alright.
It never occurred to me to talk to Tylie, as awful as that sounds. We’d never really been conversational eaters in the first place. I fumbled across the table to reach for her hand. However the moment I touched her, she gently redirected me back to my food.
I kept thinking back on the interaction between Tylie and our macabre maitre’d: the body game. It reminded me of that old Halloween game our moms used to set up when we were kids and had friends over or a party. You remember the one, right? Spooky music would play while the lights were dimmed beyond visual recognition. The game was that we were supposedly eating a body, slain by our creative mothers. It had an old poem that went with it:
Many and many a year has passed
Since they buried this man away,
But his withering corpse we’ve here amassed
Dug up from his tomb today!
Here is his brain, which feels no pain.
Here are his eyes, frozen in surprise.
Here is his heart, nevermore to start!
And so on and so forth. We’d be served food disguised as body parts, bold grapes for eyes, tomato for the brain and whatnot. My favorite was always the ramen noodle intestines.
My thoughts were soon interrupted by a clinking sound not too far from my face: a new course. One that didn’t offer much by way of scent, which wasn’t always necessarily a bad thing. It had a fleshy texture, almost like… ham? No, that wasn’t right. It was smooth like the white of a perfectly boiled egg. It squished between my teeth and against my gums, sending rivulets of its succulence down my chin and neck. I imagined Tylie getting sprayed by spatter as I struggled to break it down into a size I could easily swallow. Not that I much wanted to.
The flavor was robust, acrid and coppery all at the same time. It left me wondering if that was their game. I imagined you’d save a hell of a lot on food costs if everyone was too disgusted to continue past the third course. I was torn between wanting to get out of there and praying for a better course to wash the taste out of my mouth. My thoughts couldn’t help but turn to Tylie and wonder if she was experiencing the same thing.
The decision was made for me as I felt two hands clasp my unsuspecting shoulders. Simultaneous muttering erupted all around me. I was caught totally off guard to hear Tylie’s voice join the fray. Her tone was sinister… darker than I’d ever heard before. Before long I realized they all seemed to be chanting in a language completely foreign to my ears.
At that point the mental unease was simply too much to bear. I swatted the stranger’s hands away from my person and yanked my blindfold down from in front of my eyes. My breath hitched in horror as I absorbed the scene around me. I didn’t hear so much as a chair move when we were eating. Yet I found myself surrounded by the patrons that were seated as we arrived. The customers, waitstaff, chefs stood around Tylie in celebration, like they were about to sing happy fucking birthday or something.
Moreover, the remnants of Tylie’s plate looked perfectly normal. I recognized a few stray salad leaves, chicken bones and even a spot of mashed potato. But when I looked down at myself, a trail of what looked like raw blood ran from my chin, dotting the front of my shirt in crimson. My mind swarmed as I frantically spat into a napkin. My mouth now tasted so raw.
My stomach heaved instantly as the chanting grew louder. Everyone seemed much more aggressive now. Their eyes burned with a wicked intensity that chilled me to my core.
Then just like that, all the words stopped, enveloping the table in an almost painful silence by comparison. Tylie reached a manicured hand across the table to grab my own. “Happy Father’s Day, Johnny,” she beamed. The crowd around her nodded and clapped in agreement.
“You mean Halloween,” I corrected. Though I instantly doubted myself for focusing on semantics at a time like this. I quivered as a wild fluttering bloomed inside of my lower gut. “What in the hell did I just eat?”
“Not what,” she paused, resting a hand on her childless stomach. “Who.”
“Who?! Wait a minute,” my mind raced. She’d told me her period had come. Then again, I can remember my mother saying she spotted with blood at first when she was pregnant with me. Said she mistook it as signs of a miscarriage and it scared the shit out of her. But things were perfectly normal.
I rushed to my feet, knocking over my glass and sending my silverware careening to the floor as a result of my hastiness. I didn’t look back, I just ran, shuddering from the foul aftertaste. The more time that passed, the more it tasted like my tongue was decomposing. It was death and life and vomit and shit and garbage and char.
Tylie was on her own. She took care of herself well enough during her three month vacation and this current event has shown me that a large part of me wished she hadn’t returned at all. I ended up driving to my office and hunkering down there for the night. Being in the large, empty building always used to make me anxious. But for that one night, I’d never felt safer.
As if my thoughts had tangible power, I returned home to find most traces of Tylie once again gone. My gratitude outweighed the feeling of deja vu that threatened to overtake me. To think back on it, I couldn’t have even been sure that she returned with everything left that she took off with the first time. Despite the circumstances I was surprised at how I found myself feeling. The relief I should have felt became a crescendoing sense of impending doom. I was downright terrified if I’m honest. The taste of…whatever that was still laid heavy on my tongue.
The yellow paper screamed against the white tile of the kitchen counter, urging me to read it. When I picked it up initially I thought it was a pawn shop receipt. One of those copies of a copy of one anyway. I was wrong. The grey letterhead read: Tama Jesti women’s medicinal arcane wellness center. It was a medical form, with aftercare instructions for a D&C procedure, something normally performed in the event of a loss of pregnancy.