Andrew G. Kaufman, esquire, smiles and waves at his neighbor, who is walking her ridiculous/yappy/rat of a toy poodle, as he drives through the repetitive cycle of houses that make up his shitty suburban neighborhood. His eyes are on the road, but his head, his head is in the stars. He reminisces about his time performing for children at birthday parties and he reminisces about Elvis and he reminisces about magic and he reminisces about singing; he remembers his father telling him, “A smart, good, Jewish boy like you needs a career Andy, not these silly dreams and hullabaloo, go to school Andrew, be a doctor or a lawyer. Oy, would your mother love to have a doctor for a son.”
His life is full of these types of regrets. Opportunities missed always play themselves out in his mind; he tries not to get too hung up on them. Besides, he knows his life is not all bad; his profession is respectable and his house is enviable and his wife is ... and his wife; he has many fine suits, and a very nice car. Yes, it is a life he knows others are jealous of. So while he may not be the famous star he once dreamed of, at least he is envied.
Pulling into the driveway he, once again, marvels at its horseshoe shape, long enough that the house rests far enough back from the street to convey power, yet not so far that passersby would not be able to see their fountain and lion statues that bookend the entryway leading to their frontdoor. It is perfect.
He sits in the car for a moment, still reminiscing, as he prepares himself for home.
The door opens and her perfume creeps up his nose. She rises to greet him, and he is that boy in law school again. Hair, aglow, dancing on shoulders, smooth olive skin radiating a warmth felt from across the room, he reminisces her; he reminisces the allure. The esteemed Mr. Kaufman stands dumbfounded and speechless in the presence of beauty. The captivating call of her haunting brown eyes envelopes him as her winsomely-warm wonderfully-wet lips part, “Well, didcha stop and get da dry-cleanin like I ask-t?”
He remembers her.
“Good to see you as well dear.”
“Christ help me you-ah useless Andy.”
“My day was fine, thank you for asking.”
“And ah sma-t ass as well. I’m goin out with da girls for Chrissy’s birthday so you-ah on…”
“That is fine dear, thank you. Am I to assume there is no dinner ready?”
“You don’t get all dis, a...