Recognition, by John Sorensen (Guest Blogger)

“You see that guy over there?” Harvey asked his wife.

“Which guy?” she asked.  “There’s guys all over the place.”

“The guy missing the leg.  He’s sitting right over there,” he said, nodding to narrow her search around the restaurant.

“How do you expect me to see someone’s legs when they’re sitting down?”

“Jesus, Mary, he’s the guy with fucking crutches leaning against the table,” Harvey said, his voice raising, as was often the case when she failed to catch on quickly.

“Oh, yeah, I see him,” she said.  “So what?  And keep it down.  It’s still too early for you to start embarrassing yourself.”

“Okay, okay,” he said.  “You see him though, right?”

“Yes, I see him,” she said.  “Do you know the guy?”

“No, I don’t know him,” Harvey said, reaching for his beer, “but that’s the guy that’s been on the news.  The one who lost his leg last month.”

“He’s been on the news?” she asked.  “How do you know that?”

“Because I watch the fucking news,” Harvey said after taking in a mouthful of Miller.

“Okay, okay,” she said.  “So what was he on the news for?”

“For losing his fucking leg,” Harvey said.  “Jesus, Mary, you don’t remember me telling you about that?  It happened about a month ago.  He was on his bike, over by Powell, and was about to cross when a truck took the turn and tore the guy’s leg right off.  It was all over the news.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening in recognition.  “That’s the guy?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy,” Harvey said, reaching for his beer again.  “That’s the guy I was telling you about.  He’s been all over the news.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember now.  Are you sure that’s him?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she stared across the room.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Harvey said, turning in his chair to get a better look.  “Yeah, that’s him alright.”

“Well, should we say something to him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Harvey said after taking another drink.  “Maybe.”

“Jesus, Harvey.  I was kidding.  What would we even say to him?”

“I don’t know,” Harvey said.  “Maybe just tell him we know who he is or that we saw him on the news.  He doesn’t seem too upset about the whole thing.”

“Of course he’s upset about it, Harvey.  The guy lost his leg.”

“Yeah, of course he’s upset about it.  Who wouldn’t be?  I’d be pissed.”

“I’d probably kill myself,” she said.

“Of course you would,” he said.  “I just meant that he seems to be taking it fairly well, given the circumstances.  I bet people talk to him all of the time about it.  He was on the fucking news for almost a month.”

“That is a long time,” she agreed.  “I was on the news once.”

“You were never on the news,” Harvey said, gesturing to a waitress for another beer.

“Yes I was,” she said.

“When?  When were you on the fucking news, Mary?”

“Well, I wasn’t on, but they interviewed me once.  I told you about this.  I was in the car, and it was in the middle of that heat wave a few years back, and I was at a stop sign at the grocery store and they knocked on my window and asked me about the weather.”

“They asked you about the weather?”

“Yeah, yeah, they asked me about the weather,” she said.

“Well, what did you say?” he asked.

“I said it was hot out.”

The waitress arrived at the table to drop off Harvey’s beer and cleared away the empties to make way for their dinners, which would be arriving shortly, according to the waitress, and was turning to leave when Harvey placed his hand on her forearm.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, gesturing for her to lean in closer, which she did.  “Do you see that guy over there?  The one with the missing leg?”

“Yes, I saw him,” she said.  “He’s been coming in for the past few days.  He’s a very nice man.”

“Do you know who he is?” Harvey asked.

“No,” she said.  “Should I?”

“That’s the guy from the news,” Harvey said.  “The one who lost his leg last month over on Powell.”

“Is it really?” she whispered.  “That was all over the news.”

“Yeah, it was—big story,” Harvey agreed.  “Listen, what’s he drinking?”

“Jesus, Harvey, you don’t have to buy the guy a drink,” Mary said.

“Just shut up,” he said.  “Whatever he’s drinking, give him another on me.  He deserves it.  And bring me one more of those too when you get a chance.”

“Well, it’s not my table, but I’ll find out what he’s drinking and have it taken care of,” the waitress said and walked away.

“Harvey,” his wife said, “don’t you think that might put him on the spot a little?”

“Everyone knows it’s him,” Harvey said, looking around the room.  “No one wants to say anything though.  No one wants to acknowledge him, and that’s a problem.  I mean, look at him.  He lost a leg last month when a truck ran him over, and now he’s here, like nothing happened, just like the rest of us.  I couldn’t do that.”

“I’d probably kill myself,” she said.

“You probably would kill yourself,” he agreed.  “Not me though.  I wouldn’t do that.  I’d learn to live with it, but it would probably take some time.  How does he even get around?  It only happened a month ago.  I couldn’t do that.”

“I bet you could,” Mary said.

“Sure, sure, I’d be way too embarrassed.  You know me.  It’d be like losing a tooth.  Could you imagine losing a tooth and then having to go out in public like that?  I’d be way too embarrassed.”

“John Stanford lost a tooth once.  He didn’t leave his house for days, and even then it was only to go to the dentist to have it fixed.”

“John Stanford needs his whole face fixed,” Harvey said.  “Oh, look, look. She’s bringing him the beer.

Across the room, the man with the missing leg spoke briefly with the waitress, shook his head several times, and finally accepted the bottle, after which she pointed to Harvey, who waved and smiled from across the room.

“I don’t know,” Harvey said, turning back in his chair to face his wife.  “Maybe I would kill myself.”