The Peruvian Man

The Peruvian Man
A Novella

Life on the wondrous Earth that our Brother created for us in the name of the Father is interesting because of the interaction between each individual. A child is born, raised, and then goes off to discover himself/herself in a way that is seemingly befitting. Such is the case with my roommates and me.

I was born to wonderful parents who care for me greatly, they raised me while gaining wisdom, and then I set off for a university that has been dubbed as ‘The Lord’s University’ (I cannot attest that to be entirely accurate). It is here in Provo, UT that I met the girls with whom I now reside. We have done a lot together, and on the ninth of October in the year of our Lord 2004, we embarked upon a grand adventure. Unbeknownst to us, this adventure would lay a foundation of laughter and delight for months to come.

We left our humble abode around noon, meandered to the Black Beauty, and pilled in as we hurried off as a thundering herd of stags incessant on a refreshing run of freedom. These wondrous girls and I cautiously navigated the bustling streets to a few blocks down, where we found our destination sitting serenely against the mountainous backdrop for which Utah is famous: Smith’s.

All four of us tumbled out of the car and walked with dignity into the store, grabbed a shopping cart, and proceeded forth with lists in one hand and determination in our eyes. We soon realized that it was going to be impossible to fit all of our purchases in one cart so I ran back to the front to get a second. Meagan and Adriane shared the first, Annie and I the second. Due to the variety of each one of our lists, we decided to split for a time. Meagan and I had a common need to find pasta sauce. We left Annie and Adriane to their own intuition and progressed to the aisle marked as Pasta and Sauce.

Meagan and I were in the midst of an in-depth scrutinization of the various merits that the assorted sauces entailed, when to our astonishment, a man- stout, sweaty, and clad in rumpled clothing- sashayed up to us and poked me on the shoulder. Then with all the suave mannerism he could muster, he waved ‘Hi.’ I smiled and returned the salutation. Then he walked on with a smile splitting his face.

I leaned in toward Meagan and whispered, “I think he works with Antonio.” We continued our business about choosing a sauce. After about thirty seconds of further deliberation, I settled for Ragu with onions and green peppers. I do not recall what Meagan had selected. We placed the items in the cart and had scarcely walked a meager two dozen steps, when to our surprise, the Peruvian man returned. This is what ensued:

In greatly broken English he stated, “You are really cute. Yeah. Your face. Yes. Your hair is cute.”
I was bright red at this point, I assure you.

He turned to Meagan and said, “She is cute, yeah?” While Meagan was suppressing an incontrollable urge to laugh hysterically and nodding her consent, the guy turned to me and asked, “So do you have…. what’s de word? Umm…umm…dates? Yeah dates?”

I, believing that he was inquiring simply because of my welfare like Antonio does, answered, “No. Can’t say that I have been busy with those. Nope, not at all.”

He smiled and then told me again that I am cute. Then he said, “Do you have a, um, a…phone number? So we could be friends, yes?”

Bewildered and not sure of what to do I said, “Yes.” He gave me a piece of paper and I wrote down my number. He left with a triumphant smile on his face, leaving me with a sickening dread. As soon as he was out of sight, Meagan guffawed. I started in with my moans of terror. I made Meagan swear not to say another word until we were in the car.

Against all of my hopeful wishing, he called four days later.

For chapter two of this novella, please visit Meagan’s blog: http://perfectsyzygy.blogspot.com