IN-N-OUT BURGER BLUES
Hayward, California, for those of you not initiated, is situated right outside the town, outside of Oakland. Gertrude Stein, upon hearing of the demolition of her childhood home in Oakland, had once famously quipped, “There’s no there, there”. Unlike Oakland, when it comes to Hayward, there really is no “there” there. Oakland may not be much of a place but at least it’s a place. Hayward is a whole lot of nothin’. That’s right, nothin’. Sure it’s got its share of cookie cutter strip malls, “big box” stores, liquor stores, Starbucks and the like but hasn’t got character, charm, warmth, pizzazz, or whatever it is that makes a place a place. And you better believe when I say Hayward, I mean the whole stinking mess between San Leandro and all the way to Milpitas, Fremont and Union City included. The whole area has that same pathetic blandness to it, that non-“thereness”.

It was three years ago, last Saturday night, past midnight, when the four of us, collectively known as the Quadrangle were hanging out at the Union Landing In-n-Out Burger. Skinny, elfin Musician was, as he had been for the last several weeks, discoursin’ on the many varied reasons he was foreswearing the love of woman. Although it was a well worn monologue, the rest of us, that is Mexican Hot Chocolate, Gamer, and I, Inquirer, loved hearing it as we felt it set us apart somehow, monkish sages for the 21st century.

“I used to find women with dark eyes incredibly beautiful. I had one girlfriend whose eyes were so dark they were almost black,” he said between bites of burger. “I thought those eyes were absolutely gorgeous. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. I soon found out her eyes were empty pools of nothingness—she was a succubus, draining the life out of me.”

“Yeah, nothing worse than a girl with no soul,” Mexican Hot Chocolate replied. “I would rather go out with a plain looking smart girl with soul than a beautiful idiot. You know I ran into Christine the other day…she wants me to call her. She said, ‘What, did you forget how to use a telephone?’ And then she wrote her number down for me on the back of a Band-Aid, of all things.”

Musician turned slightly green and stopped drinking his root beer in mid slurp. “Dude, don’t call her.”

“I won’t,” Mexican Hot Chocolate assured him. “She used to be cool, but she’s studyin’ the lowest occupation there is now.”

“Which is?” Musician asked with palpable anticipation. The others turned towards him also; we wanted a bit of the “wisdom”.
Mexican Hot Chocolate was the oldest and smartest member of our group. I didn’t always understand what he was saying but I loved listening to him, he sounded like a college professor. He dressed like one too, wearing a mustard yellow, corduroy coat and blue jeans with ugly leather shoes. The illusion was only broken by his Hawaiian shirt which he wore constantly.

“Accounting,” he said. “You know, she left me for a greasy Mexican mechanic,” he said, standing up. “She coulda had all this Mexican Hot Chocolate but she gave it up for a Mexican Mechanic…”

“Really?” Musician replied. He was a little stunned and crestfallen.

“She’s on her second boyfriend since we broke up…” he continued, returning to his seat. “Some fat white dude who owns a condo. What’s he got that I haven’t got?”

“A condo,” Gamer said. I turned towards him. He was balancing his head on his upended cell phone while sneaking some fries out of Musician’s tray.

With a look of disgust, I reached across the table and smacked Gamer’s hand.

“That’s all great,” I said. “But it doesn’t help me any.”

They towards me, I’d been sulking in the corner most of the evening, and this was his thing I’d said since agreeing to hang out.
Musician sighed, “Are you still stuck on Dolce Nombre? Would just talk to her already?”

“I know what I have to do…” I stammered. “I just can’t…for some reason.”

Musician leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly scratching at his chest, “Don’t look at me, I don’t got game…Ev’ry girlfriend I ever had just came to me.”
I sighed and turned to Mexican Hot Chocolate, “Hey Mexican Hot Chocolate, what do you think I should do about Dolce Nombre?”

“Ask her out for coffee or something casual like that,” he replied. “If she says yes, then ask her out for dinner…hope she stays for breakfast.”

“God, that was awful,” snorted Gamer. “Even for you.”

“Like you don’t think about that,” Mexican Hot Chocolate replied.

“I am a gentleman,” Gamer retorted, shoving his index finger up his nose to the second knuckle.

“Then why are you pickin’ your nose?”
“Tryin’ to pop a zit,” Gamer said.

“In your nose?”

“Yeah in my nose,” Gamer replied as he scooped up the last of Musician’s fries with his free hand.

“Would you two cut it out!” I shouted. I get so sick of the antics sometimes. “This isn’t the Mexican Hot Chocolate-n-Gamer comedy hour.”

Gamer calmly mashed the last of the fries into his mouth and replied, bits of fried potato dropping from his lips, “Everyone always says we should have our own show.”

I took a long sip from my soda and composed my thoughts. “Seriously, what do you guys think I should do about Dolce Nombre? I think…”

“That’s your problem, you’re over thinking everything,” Gamer replied with a low belch. God he’s a pig and he thinks he knows everything. Now, Mexican Hot Chocolate, there’s a smart guy.
“It’s something deeper than that,” I said. “I know what I should have done earlier. I just couldn’t…for some reason. I wanted to wait and talk to her in private.”

“Don’t wait,” Gamer said. “I made that mistake before that and the a…”

“Fabulous lies?” I said.

“Listen,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “What you need to do, is act without attachment to the consequences of the action. Just like in the Bhagavad-Gita.”

We all stared at him in awestruck silence for a moment. It was quiet enough to hear the flies buzzing around the raw burger patties in the kitchen.

“Heavy…” Musician muttered. “Yeah, like he said…Oh and don’t force anything. If it happens it happens. Just act quickly before someone else snatches her up.”

“Like whom?” I asked.

“I noticed Nick has his eye on her, “Gamer answered.

I sighed again, “Nick from theater 30 Nick?”

Gamer nodded. “He’s such a…sleaze.”

“He’s not that bad,” Musician said. “Just so…ordinary.” We sat quietly for a moment contemplating the word ordinary. The sound of it sent a shudder down our collective spine; it was one of the most dreaded words in our vocabulary, second only to ‘Game Over’.

“I don’t know what girls see in ordinary guys like Nick,” Musician continued. “Inquirer that’s your mission, if you choose to accept it, get with Dolce Nombre before she falls for Nick, okay?”

“I want to…It’s just that…” I started.

“Listen, if I can get a date,” Gamer said. “Then you should have no problem.”

We stared at him in disbelief, Musician wearing a face of mock horror.

“You have a date?” Mexican Hot Chocolate asked.

“Yes.” Gamer leaned back and guzzled the last drop his Coke.

“With a woman?” Mexican Hot Chocolate asked.

“Yes.”

“Not ogling the women in Victoria’s Secret Catalogue,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. Gamer had once told Mexican Hot Chocolate and me that he had built a rail gun out of an old shotgun, when I asked to see it he told me he had dismantled it to keep it out of the hands of the “secret government”, so it paid to double check his stories.

“Oh that’s bad,” Gamer said.

“What’s her name?” Mexican Hot Chocolate asked.

“Brittany,” Gamer replied.

“And how did you meet…Brittany?”

“At my mom’s work,” Gamer said as he began crunching and sucking on the icy dregs from his soda cup.

“She’s your age?” Mexican Hot Chocolate asked. “Cause goin’ out with a woman your mom’s age would just be weird, even for you…”

Yet somehow, I wouldn’t have put past him.

“Of course she’s my age,” Gamer replied. He set down his cup and stood next to me saying, “ And she’s rich.”

I watched as Mexican Hot Chocolate played Han Solo to Gamer’s Luke Skywalker. I liked the Star Wars Movies too, but I couldn’t see how they had memorized so many of the lines. I had a hard enough time remembering lines of plays I was in.
“How rich?”
“A lot more than you can imagine,” Gamer said.

Mexican Hot Chocolate sighed and said, “I can imagine a lot.”

“Her father owns 5000 acres in Modesto,” Gamer said.
Musician jumped up and said, “Dude hook up with her, take up guitar, get her to buy you a Taylor and then give it to me.”

“Getch your own heiress,” Gamer snorted.

“So how did you get a date with an heiress?” Musician asked.

“My mom introduced us and I said, ‘I think you’re a nice person, would you like to go to lunch?’ And she said yes.” Gamer returned to his seat with a self satisfied grin. I stifled a laugh.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Musician shouted. “She actually fell for that cheap move?”

“Dude, I know it’s kinda cliché…” Gamer replied.

“Clichés become clichés because they work,” Mexican Hot Chocolate explained.

“I guess,” Musician said. “Dude, if Gamer can do it, anyone can.”

“Yeah, he’s an oaf,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “Inquirer, you’re much less oafish than Gamer.”
“Thank you, I resemble that remark,” Gamer said.

“What about you Mexican Hot Chocolate,” I said. “How did you get your last girlfriend?”

“The same as Musician,” he replied. “Every girlfriend I had…all two of ‘em, just kinda came to me.”

“Well do you have your eye on any girls now?” I asked.

“I used to care about having a girlfriend…well you remember that crush I had on Eela,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. We all nodded as if it were a chapter of all our lives. “Now I don’t really care so much. I mean yeah a relationship would be nice, but since I converted to Islam, I have a love affair with God.”

“So you’ve found your fulfillment spiritually,” Gamer said, a salacious look in his eye. “But there are other kinds of fulfillment…”

“Speaking of fulfillment,” Musician said. “Isn’t that Dolce Nombre over there?”
He pointed towards the counter and we all looked. Dolce Nombre was there ordering her dinner. She was a caramel skinned Latina with long black hair and curves in all the places women were supposed to have curves.

“Oh god, it is…” I said.

“There oughta be a law…” Musician said.

They all turned toward me, expectantly.

“What?”

“Go talk to her,” Musician urged. “Or I will.”

I stared towards where Dolce Nombre was standing. “Okay, I’m standing up.” I stood up. “I’m standing…”

“Well go already,” they shouted.
My stomach tied itself in knots. It was full of vomiting butterflies. I sat down again, “I’m sitting down.”

“Would you stop acting like Charlie Brown and go talk to her already?”
“Okay, okay.” I very slowly walked over to where Dolce Nombre was sitting.

“Good grief,” I heard Mexican Hot Chocolate say.

Dolce Nombre was sitting by herself absentmindedly sipping from her soda. She was the prettiest girl I new. Jet black hair cascaded past her shoulders; her skin was golden brown kissed by the sun; her eyes were the color of good coffee, round and full. Her t-shirt and blue-jeans clung to full, rounded flesh. I ached for her as I approached her.

“Hey Dolce Nombre,” I said and she looked up at me, her eyes round with surprise. I felt myself go flush as I said, “Err, I mean Lynn.”

“Oh, hi…Inquirer,” she replied. He voice was kind and sweet but tinged with a slight disappointment.

“What brings you here,” I asked.
“I was supposed to meet someone here,” she replied. “But it looks like he stood me up.”

“Oh that sucks,” I said and sat down. “Care if I join you?”

“Sure…go ahead,” she said.

“So…who were you supposed to meet?” I asked, I hoped I didn’t sound too desperate. The guys were always warning me about sounding too desperate.

“Oh just Nick,” Dolce Nombre replied. “Honestly, I don’t know what I ever saw in that guy he’s so…so…”

“Ordinary?” I offered, hopefully.

“Yeah, ordinary, “she agreed. “So, what are you up to?”

Without taking my gaze away from her eyes, I pointed at the rest of the guys. “Just hanging out with Gamer, Musician, and Mexican Hot Chocolate…you know…just chillin' a’ little bit of illin’.”

“You guys have such cool nicknames for each other,” she replied.
“I guess, we hang out so much we’re kinda like a family,” I said. “Mexican Hot Chocolate calls us the Quadrangle…cause there’s four…”

“I get it,” she said. “You know that’s cool and kinda sweet.”

Just then, the voice of god boomed over the PA, “Number thirty…your order’s ready.”

When Dolce Nombre excused herself to get her food, Mexican Hot Chocolate sauntered over; owning the room with that over exaggerated self confidence of his.

“So’d you ask her out?” he asked.

“Tryin’ to,” I replied. “What are you doing?”

“Gamer’s idea,” he said. “Recon…”

“Reconnaissance?” I hissed. “But this…this isn’t the army!”

At that moment, Dolce Nombre returned with her with her food. She seemed perplexed by Mexican Hot Chocolate’s sudden appearance.

“Oh…hey…Mexican Hot Chocolate,” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh,” he said. “Just on my way to the restroom.”
“Go for it,” he whispered to me as headed toward the men’s room.

If Mexican Hot Chocolate were telling this story he’d find some witty way to point out that getting yourself out of a tight spot by excusing yourself to the restroom is a terrible cliché but I swear it’s exactly what happened.

With Mexican Hot Chocolate out of the picture, I returned to the matter at hand.

“So…a…Lynn,” I said. “I was wondering…”

“Yes?” Dolce Nombre prompted.

“I was wondering,” I said taking a long slurp from my soda. “Are you doing anything this uh…weekend?”

She shook her head, “Nothing important. Why?”
“Jackal and Hyde,” I began. “Excuse me; Jekyll and Hyde is playing at the Altarena, would you like to go?”

“You mean the musical?” Dolce Nombre took the first bite of her burger and stared into my eyes. I nodded.

“Yeah, that’ll be nice,” she said, finally.

Feeling triumphant I turned to where the guys were waiting for me. Musician and Mexican Hot Chocolate looked like they were rocking out, probably to some Jethro Tull. Musician had introduced us to them and we were all hooked.

Dolce Nombre and I chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging phone numbers and the like.

“You know what they don’t have enough of in this place,” I said. She shook her head.
“Lounges,” I said. “There aren’t enough places where you can sit an’ just listen to music.”

“Oh,” she said. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Oh a little of everything,” I said. “I like you…know…ole’ time-y jazz and stuff.”

“Oh, like Miles Davis or John Coltrane,” she said.

“Who?”

“Oh, you’re cute,” she said. “Pretending you don’t know Davis or Coltrane…”

I really had no idea who she was talking about so I smiled and played along.

“You know what’s cool is the soundtrack to Ken Burns’s JAZZ,” I said. Jazz and PBS, that was sure to impress her. She nodded and smiled.

“Also the soundtrack to American Splendor,” I said. “I especially like the songs by R. Crumb.”

“R. Crumb?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “He was this cartoonist from like the ‘50s or ‘60s. Uh, Mexican Hot Chocolate was telling me about him.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” she said. “Comics are kinda cool.”

“Yeah, like Harvey Pekar said, you can do anything with words and pictures.”

Cool. I was coming off as what Mexican Hot Chocolate might have called a damn intellectual. After about fifteen minutes of awkward small talk, she took her tray to the garbage, seemingly without touching her food, and we said our good byes.

“Well it’s been nice talking to you,” she said. “But I gotta go, got an early day tomorrow.”

I nodded politely. She hadn’t said much but I knew she was into me. I didn’t see why she couldn’t just stay up all night with me ant talk about god and black holes or something.

“See you Saturday,” I said.

“See you,” she said and disappeared into the night.

Exhilarated beyond belief I wandered back to the Quadrangle.

“Did you talk to her?” Musician asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m taking her out to Jekyll and Hyde at the Altarena on Saturday.”

“Way to go!” Musician said.

“See it was easier than you thought,” Mexican Hot Chocolate added.

“Yeah but getting the date and going on the date are two entirely different things,” I said. “You guys wanna call it a night?”

The next day, Saturday, was a cool and crisp fall day. Golden shafts of sunlight glistened against stone gray clouds. It reminded me of one those paintings by one of those masters that Mexican Hot Chocolate is always going on about. It was beautiful. The four of us were once again hanging out at In-n-Out. The dining room was too crowded and noisy to be any fun, so we sat outside at one of the picnic tables shooting the perpetual shit.

“Is this what our life has become,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “Perpetually hanging out at In-Out, La Piñata, and Denny’s?”

“Seems like it….” I replied.

“Well those kinda places fit our schedule, being open all night,” Gamer said. “And besides they’re cheap…seeing as we’re usually broke.”

“Correction,” Musician said. “You’re usually broke.”

“I just always thought there was more to life,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “This is so…blah…”

“I had an interesting morning,” I insisted.

“What morning?” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “You sleep until four in the afternoon.”

“Well I was up early this morning,” I replied. “I sorta felt compelled. I went out for coffee at the Starbucks on Lewelling. I was coming out with my chocolate chip Frappucino when I saw this…person.”

“What kind of person?” Mexican Hot Chocolate asked.
“I dunno,” I said. “Sort of this old blind whatcha call it, Beatnik poet type…even had the beret and the turtleneck. I couldn’t tell if they were a man or woman.”

“Uh huh,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “Did you talk to this…Beat?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He…she…Overheard me talking to myself about what kind of cool I should be on my date tonight…James Bond or Indiana Jones…”

“You’re nuts, you know that?” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “Anyway what did this poet tell you?”

“She said, ‘The secret to be being cool, kid-o is just being your self,’” I replied.

“How…sage…” Mexican Hot Chocolate replied.

“Anyway, the next thing I know this…person is wandering off into traffic,” I said.

“So then what,” Mexican Hot Chocolate replied. “Lemme guess, you went after him or her and pushed out of on coming traffic.”

“Yeah,” I said. “How’d you guess?”
“No way,” they all said.

“Yeah,” I said. “When I walked her back to the parking lot she thanked me for saving her life and told me all about how she missed her Seeing Eye dog—it died or something. We talked about compassion and how more compassion would make the world a better place. And right before she left she told me again, ‘Just be yourself and you’ll be fine, kid-o…’ and she handed me a twenty as I walking to my car. I wanted to give it back to her, but she was gone by the time I turned around…just whoosh…vanished.”

“And I thought Gamer told some whoppers,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.
“Hey!” Gamer said.

“My hand to God,” I said.

I was just unwrapping my burger when a homeless looking man dressed in white coveralls, goggles, and work boot wandered up to us. He looked like Jesus if Jesus had worked as janitor at a nuclear plant. His nearby grocery cart was stuffed to the brim with towels, wash cloths, and bottles of cleaning fluid.

“Can any of you spare some change,” he asked. “Trying to get sometin…to eat.”

“Here,” I said and handed him my uneaten lunch. “I just bought this but I’m not really hungry.”

“God bless,” he said. “Have a nice day.”
The man packed up my lunch and stuck in his cart. Something about the man struck a familiar chord; I ran after him and stopped him from leaving.

“Scuse me,” I said. “Do I know you from someplace?”

“You must have me mixed up with someone else,” he replied.

“Are you sure,” I said. “Maybe you’re just forgetting.”

The man stepped away from me, scowling like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Jus’ cause I’m homeless, don’t mean my mind is all messed up,” he said. “A nice guy like you, I would remember.”

He returned to his cart and set off. I watched him until he disappeared down the street.
I wandered back to the table and sat down to finish my soda.

“Wow, just wow,” Musician said.

“That was very generous of you, Inq,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.

“Meh, I need to loose some weight anyway,” I said. After that we called it an afternoon and I went home to get ready for my date.

That evening was unusually clear and crisp. On most nights there was so much haze and light pollution you could barely see the stars. That Saturday, however, the stars shown with a brilliance like diamonds spilled across black velvet, a fact I pointed out to Dolce Nombre as we sat drinking mochas after the play in the park across from the theater.
“Oh that’s so…” she began.

“Cheesy…I know,” I said.

“No, it show’s you have the soul of the poet,” she said.

“I wonder which one,” I said.

“What?” she asked.

“I mean which poet…it was…oh never mind,” I said. “What did you think of the play?”

“It was nice,” she said. “Although, I don’t remember ever seeing such a gory musical.”

“It wasn’t as gory as it was hyped,” I replied. “Gore usually gives me an upset stomach.”

“Oh that’s so…”

“Silly…I should be made of sterner stuff,” I said.

“I was going to say sweet,” she said, snuggling close. “I like sensitive peep…men.”

We leaned close and our eyes met, I moved in to kiss her when a fat ass in a well worn jogging suit walked past. He finished munching a Snicker bar and dropped the wrapper near the garbage. Dolce Nombre jumped to her feet and shouted with all the rage she could muster in her tiny frame, “Aren’t you going to pick it up?”
The grease ball stared at her blankly and shrugged before walking off. Dropping the wrapper into the trash, Dolce Nombre shouted after him, “God made this planet for you as a gift. You should respect it.” I hadn’t seen this side of her before. I was impressed and just a little turned on.

“What did you mean, ‘For you’?” I asked.
“What?”
She turned towards me, flushed, with tiny beads of sweat dripping from her forehead.
“Just now,” I went on. “You said ‘God made this planet for you’ instead of ‘For us’.”
She stepped away from and quickly changed the subject.
“It’s late,” she said. “We should go home.”
Apparently my raging horny-ness would have to be satiated by hand.

“Sure,” I said. “If you really want to.”

“Yeah, I’m sleepy and I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow,” she said.

“I guess I better take you home then,” I said. “Before we go, I’d just like to know when I’ll be able to see you again.”

“Umm…” For a woman who’d spoken so forcefully moments ago, she seemed oddly at a loss for words.

“You’re a real nice person,” I said. “And I’d like to see you again and maybe get to know you better.”

“You’ll see me again,” she replied. “Just not for a very long time.”

“When?” I said.
She bit her lower lip and shifted her weight, nervously.

“God knows, “she said. “I’m not sure.”

“Why’re you being so evasive,” I asked. “Didn’t you have a nice time?”

“I had a great time. And you’re a wonderful person…” she said. “But I’m going out of town for a while and Lord knows when I’ll be back…if ever. So, please can we just leave it at that?” She stared up at me. Her eyes pleading.

“No, I can’t accept that.” I replied, forcing myself not to shout. “If I’m such great guy how come all of a sudden, you don’t wanna spend more time with me?”

“Please, don’t spoil this wonderful memory by being cross with me.” Her eyes were as big as saucers now, welling with tears.

“I’m not angry.” I said. “I just want you to be honest with me…please. “

“Honest? Ok, I’ll be honest,” she said. “Sit down.”

I sat down and Dolce Nombre took a few steps away. She seemed to be thinking of just the right words.

“What I’m about to say may surprise or shock you,” she said. She sounded like something out of an old movie. My stomach tightened. What could she be driving at?

“In fact, it may seem totally unbelievable to you…like something out of a bad movie but I swear it is absolutely true.”

I sighed. “What are you, a spy or something? “

A nervous chuckle escaped her lips.
“No,” she said. “Not a spy.”

This couldn’t be real. I must have been dreaming.

“A Mafia princess?”

She took a deep breath, “Not a Mafia princess…”

I stepped towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She was shivering though it wasn’t cold.
“What?” I said. “Are you an angel?”
She turned towards me and stared directly into my eyes. With the sincerity of a church mouse she said, “Yes, exactly. You’re very perceptive for a mortal.”
I no longer heard the traffic driving past or saw the other couples strolling through the park. I only saw her, a golden glow dancing round her head. The warm, wet splash of coffee spilling on my lap brought me back to my senses.

“Huh?” Was all the vocalization I could manage.

“I am a messenger from Above,” she asserted. “An angel.”

I don’t remember the rest of the evening, my drive home, or even going to bed. The next thing I do remember is wandering into In-n-Out Burger the next afternoon.

When I got there the guys were discussing Gamer’s date with the heiress, Brittany and didn’t immediately see me come in.
“It was a total date from hell,” Gamer said.

“What happened,” Mexican Hot Chocolate asked.
“She used that old, ‘I’m already seeing someone’ line on me,” Gamer replied.

“What are you talking about,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.

“I asked her about the possibility of a second date,” Gamer continued. “And she told me she was already seeing someone.”

“Then why’d she agree to go on a date?”

“Dunno…but get this,” Gamer said. “She still wants to see me…casually.”
“I’m so sick of women and their games,” Musician said.

“I told her when she gets her head out of her ass,” Gamer replied. “She could call me.”

“That’s why I stopped lying in my music about love and romance,” Musician said. “It’s such a joke.”

I slid heavily into my usual seat and Musician turned towards me.
“And how did your date go,” he asked.

“She’s an angel,” I sighed.

“Great I went out with the spawn of Satan on a date from hell and he’s goin’ out with an angel,” Gamer said. “Lucky bastard.”

“No, seriously,” I said. “She’s an angel.”

“Riiight…” Gamer said. “Dolce Nombre’s an angel and I’m the Pope.”

“Seriously!” I said. “She said she was an angel. A messenger…from Above…”

“Like God, Heaven, Hell…that kind of angel,” Musician said.

“Yes.” I said. “I guess. I don’t know.”
“Tell us what happened,” Mexican Hot Chocolate urged.

“I asked her for a second date and she said she was leaving soon,” I said. “Because she’s an angel.”

“An angel…Don’t be ridiculous,” Gamer quipped.

Mexican Hot Chocolate shot Gamer a dirty look with his piercing brown eyes. “You believe in aliens, speak Klingon and Elvish but you don’t believe in angels?”

“It’s not that,” Gamer replied. “It’s just I don’t believe that angels come to Earth in the form of hot Latinas at Chabot College!”

“The Prophet Mohammed—peace be upon him—saw the angel Gabriel in the form of a man,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “But giving divine revelation is not quite the same thing as going on a date.”

“Dude,” Musician said. “Just call her and ask her what’s up.”

We all turned toward Gamer, expectantly.
“What’re you looking at me for,” he whined.

“You’re the communications officer,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. “Remember?”

“Communications officer!?” Gamer shouted. “Do I look like a Star Fleet officer to you?”

“Honestly, in that red shirt and black pants?” Mexican Hot Chocolate said. Gamer was wearing one of two outfits he owned, a red soccer jersey and black jeans. His Hard Rock Café shirt must have been in the wash.

“Dude, you have everyone’s number on your cell phone,” Musician said.
Gamer stood up and pointed at me.

“But she’s his girlfriend,” Gamer said.

“There goes Gamer,” Musician said. “Jumping to conclusions again.”

“Just call already,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.

Defeated, Gamer dialed the number. He was on the phone for an eternity.

“That’s odd,” he said.
“What,” I said.

“Her phone’s been disconnected,” he replied.

“Are you sure you dialed it correctly?” I asked. My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt the sweat beading on my forehead.

“Didn’t hafta dial it,” Gamer explained. “I programmed into my phone on the first day of class, we were in the same play, remember?”

“Oh….yeah…” Whatever else Gamer was, he certainly did live up to the nickname “Communications Officer”.

“You could always go over to her house,” Mexican Hot Chocolate offered. “See if she’s there...”

“Good idea,” I said. “You guys wanna come with me?”
They all nodded and we wandered out of the restaurant.

The drive to Dolce Nombre’s apartment was quiet and uneventful. We went in two separate cars so everyone could get home afterwards. Neither Gamer nor Mexican Hot Chocolate owned a car. She lived in a complex in the hills near the campus of Cal State Hayward. The sun was setting over the San Francisco Bay as we drew close to Dolce Nombre’s home and the lights of the city of Hayward were beginning to twinkle in the valley below. From the hills Hayward looked like an achievement.

The apartment complex was built in a square around a central court yard. We parked near the main driveway. We made our way toward the main gate. The guys elected to wait for me while I went to check out her apartment. As I went through the gate, I heard Musician joke about writing a concept album about my date.

He was strumming his guitar and singing, “Jeff got a date he couldn’t believe. Her name was Lynn she was the hottest girl on two legs he’d ever seen. Who would have thought that under her coat were two wings…”
They all laughed and I heard Gamer and Mexican Hot Chocolate compare the evening to a Star Trek episode.

“If this was an episode of Star Trek, you’d be a red shirt, Gamer,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.

I didn’t hear a verbal response; Gamer probably just flipped him off. Their voices kind of trailed off anyway as I crossed the court yard toward Dolce Nombre’s apartment. When I reached her door I knocked loudly. When there wasn’t a response, I knocked again. I knocked three times with a few minutes pause between knocks. When no response came, I looked around and saw that her blinds were open. I peeked inside. Not only was not the apartment not furnished, it looked like no one had lived there in months.

When I tracked down the manager, he told me that not only had the apartment been vacant for nearly a month but no one named Lynne Ramirez had ever lived in that apartment or any other apartment in the complex. When I insisted that he look at his records again, he slammed the door in my face.
Dejected, I slowly wandered back to the guys.

“Any luck dude?” Gamer asked when I finally made my way back to the cars.

“No,” I said and told them about the deserted apartment.

“Wasn’t this a movie with Nicholas Cage,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.
“Shit…” Musician said.

“Well I don’t know about you guys,” Gamer said. “But I’m starving.”

“Always thinkin’ with your stomach,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.

“You guys wanna go over to In-N-Out,” Musician said.
The others nodded and started towards the cars.

“You guys go ahead,” I said. “I need to be alone for awhile.”

“You sure, dude?” Gamer asked and clambered into Musician’s car.

“Hey, I know how you feel,” Mexican Hot Chocolate said before climbing into car. They waved goodbye and drove off as I sat down on the curb to think.

I don’t know how long I sat there my mind reeling from the last few days’ events. I barely noticed as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the street lamps flickered on blotting out the stars. My head pounding and my pulse racing, I fell to my knees like I’d seen on television and I screamed to the heavens.

“My God, what is going on?” I shouted. “Why do I feel like I’m stuck in some bad movie about mortals falling in love with angels? God give me a sign!”

Suddenly the sky filled with light so bright it hurt my eyes, I felt nauseous. It was like the descriptions of migraine headaches some of my friends had told me about. My brain felt like it was trying to crawl out of my skull. I fell on my ass and that’s when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“You have great potential, Inquirer,” the voice said. It echoed in my skull. My eyes began to water.

I spun around and there was Dolce Nombre or what looked like her floating above me dressed like one of the angels Mexican Hot Chocolate had shown me in a book of Muslim art. She was wearing flowing green robes and had four golden wings. Golden light seemed to emanate from her entire body.

“Get a hold of yourself man,” I said to myself. “Dolce Nombre is not floating there dressed like an angel…”

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m not dressed like an angel. I am an angel.”

Suddenly she was standing next to me, her golden wings kicking up a slight breeze as they fluttered noiselessly behind her.

“No, you’re not an angel,” I said. “Angels, don’t come to Earth in the form of hot Latinas at Chabot College. You’re…You’re some bit of…you’re that burger I ate earlier. The one that didn’t sit right.”

“I am not indigestion, Inquirer,” she replied calmly. “I am an angel on mission from Above. A pleasing form was chosen to help you accept what I have to say.”

“I don’t understand,” I replied. “I feel like I’m being tested or something.”

“In a sense,” she said.

Suddenly I remembered my encounters with the Old Beatnik and the Homeless man.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You were…”
She seemed to know what was on my mind without me speaking and nodded in the affirmative.
“And before that…”

She nodded again.

“After a fashion yes,” she explained. “You have great compassion for your fellow human beings. You could go very far in life. Yet, you lack self-confidence. I was sent to you to help you become more confident.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Wait,” I stammered. “You accepted a date with me so I would gain self confidence? I thought God was about living a life without sin.”

“True…After a fashion,” she went on. “In order to live as… ‘sinless’ as possible, one must be able to act with confidence in one’s actions.”

“Wait, is that all there is to life,” I said. “Confidence? What about enlightenment?”

“The path to enlightenment is wrought with many dangers,” she said. “A person without confidence will never reach enlightenment.”

My mind reeled. An earlier conversation with Mexican Hot Chocolate came to mind. He’d been studying Eastern and Near Eastern philosophies lately. “Mexican Hot Chocolate is always talking about the…Bha…ga…vad…Ge...eta and acting, ‘Without attachment to…”

“The consequence of the action,” she said. “Krishna was one of my brightest pupils but he was only partly right.” She paused and sat down next to me.

“The enlightened person is the one who acts not only with detachment from the consequences of the action but with confidence that the decision is the best choice,” she said.

“Is that true of every decision?” I asked. “What breakfast cereal I eat or what shirt on put on?”

“Those aren’t true decisions…” she said. Noting my puzzlement she added: “Well not major decisions…”

“And my choosing who to go out with, that’s a major decision?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” she replied. “It’s not the choice that is necessarily important, but deciding to choose.”

“What?” I said. Mexican Hot Chocolate sometimes gave dense explanations like that but at least with him, I could always ask him to explain himself again later, who knew when Dolce Nombre would see me again.

“While it’s true that each choice we make has repercussions in life, some people are so afraid to make decisions that they never really live,” Dolce Nombre elaborated. “To exist and take up space without really living is one of the worst follies…sins if you will, that human beings can make.”

“I see…” I said. I didn’t really understand what she was saying but it sounded important. I hoped if she thought I understood she’d end the lecture and let me go…home…In-N-Out …anywhere.

“Do you see?” she said. “If you do, you are embarking on a journey into a wider world. Many trials lie ahead of you, do not be afraid you will not face anything more than you can handle. I must leave you now…”

And just like that she vanished. Her voice seemed to continue, carried on the wind.

“God is with you…always,” she said.

I got into my car and wandered back to In-n-Out Burger after that. When I got there, the guys were, as usual, talking the night away. I slid into my usual spot and just listened to them for a while; too exhausted to say much.

“So whatever happened with that heiress?” Musician said. “What’s her name…”
“Brittany?” Gamer said. “You remember I told her when she gets her head out of her ass she should call me. The crazy thing is—earlier today she called me.”

“Really…Shiiiiit.” Musician replied. “Gamer’s a playa! Hey Mexican Hot Chocolate, I notice you haven’t been on a date lately…”

“I know…Having a girlfriend just doesn’t seem that important right now…since I found Islam.” Mexican Hot Chocolate replied. “Some of the girls in the MSA are pretty fine though…”

“MSA?” Musician asked. “What’s that?”

“Muslim Student Association…” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.

“You’re in that?”
Mexican Hot Chocolate nodded and took a sip from his Coke.
“Yep…” he said.

“Cool…” Musician replied. “But you’re not even a Chabot student right now…”

Mexican Hot Chocolate shrugged. “Oh well…” he said. “Don’t tell nobody.”

I must have been sitting there a few minutes before Gamer noticed me.

“Hey lookit what the cat dragged in…” he said. “How you doing, Inquirer? I thought you needed some time alone to think.”

I shrugged and Mexican Hot Chocolate looked at his watch.

“We weren’t expecting you until later…we’ve been here all of ten minutes.” he said.

“Oh…?” I said. “I…changed my mind and decided to come down here after all...”

“You ok man?” Gamer asked.

Just then a young woman with a perfect hourglass figure and an ass so tight you could bounce a quarter off of it walked into the restaurant and got in line. I got up from the table.

“Hold that thought,” I said as I walked over to her.

“Is Inquirer actually trying to pick up a girl?” I heard Musician ask.

“Without goading from us?” Gamer said.

“Good for him…” Mexican Hot Chocolate said.

I walked back to the table smiling, my cheek red and stinging from the woman’s open palm introducing itself to my face.

“To answer your question, guys,” I said. “I think I’m gonna be alright.”