Short Story: "Spaghetti at the Dolphin Cafe"

 

by Ignacio Lee 

That’s a great book.

Oh, this one. I haven't finished reading it yet.

What part are you now?

Eri just woke up in the room and she’s confused.

There’s still a lot of stuff that you have to go through. Is that your first Murakami?

No. I read two short story collections, “Dance Dance Dance,” and “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.” I think “Wind-Up” is his best work. After that, everything seems to be a repetition. But I don’t really know, I haven’t read most of his new work.

You should read “Kafka on the Shore.”

Oh yes, I saw that in here but I haven't bought it. After I finish "After Dark," I'll read that next. But I have to take a break first. I've been reading Murakami nonstop.

Yes. He can be infectious. I’m Geoff by the way.

Oh. Hi. Jeff.

That’s Geoff, with a G. G-e-o-f-f.

Okay. I’m Li.

L-e-e?

No, it’s L-i.

That’s an interesting name. Are you Chinese? You look a bit Chinese.

It’s not really my real name.

Why wouldn’t you give your real name? For protection?

 

No, it’s my new name. It’s a long story but it’s the name I give to new people I met this past few months, and so on… anyway forget it. Just call me Li.

Okay, Hello Li. Anyway, would you like to go to a coffee shop and talk? I mean Murakami-talk. You seem to be alone?

Are you alone?

Well, my friends are here somewhere and we’re supposed to watch G.I. Joe, but I am not really into it and conversations about Murakami are way better. If you don’t mind.

I also bought a ticket for G.I. Joe.

Oh, you like that.

Well, it’s mostly to kill time. It’s the only movie worth seeing, sadly.

So, G.I. Joe then, maybe we’ll see each other inside the cinema.

If you're really serious about talking, I can skip the movie. Like you said, a conversation about Murakami is way better than G.I. Joe.

Are you sure? Movies are expensive these days. I don’t want you to waste money because of a stranger.

You can buy me coffee.

Okay, I think that I can do.

What will you tell your friends though?

The truth. I’ll tell them I met a guy in the bookstore holding a Murakami novel and I hit on him and convinced him to skip G.I. Joe and chat with me in a coffee shop.

And?

They probably, no, they will definitely not believe me and so they’ll just let me go… Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.

So, I’ll meet you in Seattle’s Best. It’s just near. They have an air-conditioned smoking area.

Oh, do you smoke?

Yes, is that a problem?

I don’t smoke.

Do you have anything against people who do?

Yes, my father died of lung cancer.

I see. My father died of complications from diabetes.

Sorry to hear that.

Yes, now we both know that both our fathers are dead, and we haven’t formally begun to really talk because we’re still just standing in a bookstore. Basically, we’re still in the chat mode.

Yes. Yes.

All of a sudden, you have the feeling you want to watch G.I. Joe instead. Right?

Perhaps, but you're more like a character from a twisted Murakami novel, all of a sudden, so, I'm still interested.

What do we do with the smoking issue?

Screw it!

Screw it?

Let’s go to Seattle’s Best and ruin your lungs. I can bear it.

Second-hand smoke is more dangerous. And with your father dying of lung cancer, don't you think you're putting yourself in an uncomfortable position? We can go to a more non-smoker-friendly place.

Thanks.

No problem.

So which place?

Dolphin Café. It’s new.

Okay. I’ll just go talk to my friends and I’ll come back here. It will only take a few minutes.

The bookstore is about to close. We can meet at Dolphin Café.

Where is it?

It’s on the fifth floor, next to the Korean restaurant.

Okay, I think I can find that. Perhaps I should get your cell phone number, just in case.

No. You should don't know so you have an escape route, so to speak.

You mean so you will also have an escape route, so to speak.

It works both ways.

How do I know you won’t skip on me?

How do I know your friends will let you go?

Okay, that’s fair.

See you at the Dolphin Café.

Bye.

He said “Bye.”

 

[,]

 

You’re here.

So are you.

Welcome to the Dolphin Café.

It’s nice. Not too pretentious.

The Dolphin Café specializes in selling coffee aficionados the sweetest desserts ever made in the history of cafes.

And your father died from complications from diabetes. This is like the wrong place for you to be in.

Not really. I’ve been here many times and that fact never really occurred to me. Don’t worry about it.

All right. What do you want? I said I buy you coffee.

I already ordered coffee. You buy yourself one.

I don’t really drink coffee.

Buy tea then.

I’ve never really been a tea drinker as well.

Oh, so what do you drink? Water?

Whiskey.

Surprisingly, they have whiskey in the Dolphin Café.

Really? Why do they have alcohol? It’s a coffee shop.

Well, there are many things they have in the Dolphin Café that you don’t normally find in other coffee shops.

Like what?

For one thing, the name is very odd considering there are no images of dolphins anywhere in the café, in the décor, or even in their tissue paper. For the rest, have a look at the menu.

Look at the menu?

I mean to see what else they have that you don’t normally find in other coffee shops.

They have whiskey all right, and other alcoholic drinks as well. Is this right, they have tuna with mercury. Why would they put that on the menu?

Because some tuna does contain mercury, they just want to be honest.

But don’t you think this sort of honesty drives away customers?

Only the wrong ones.

I see. Well, I don't see any remarkable difference between the Dolphin café and other coffee shops I've been to. I mean judging from their menu. It's a pretty standard coffee shop menu, except for a few things. They have cheesecakes, pies, breakfast sets, bagels, all sorts of coffee and teas, cookies, sandwiches, and salads. They have some traditional Filipino desserts and bread, but nothing out of the ordinary. They have pasta, but it's very typical. See, here, just plain old spaghetti.

Yes, except you have to cook it yourself.

Come again?

You cook it yourself.

If I order spaghetti here, I have to cook it myself?

Yes.

Why?

Because you ordered it.

I know but people usually go to restaurants so that they don't have to cook. That's why I hate going to Japanese or Chinese restaurants where I have to cook my own food. You've been to those kinds of places, right?

Yes, they also let you cook your own food in Korean restaurants.

I know. But I have never heard of a restaurant where they actually ask the customer to cook their own spaghetti.

Welcome to the Dolphin Café.

I see. Do you cook all the food that you order here?

Only the spaghetti, the rest of the dishes, the chef cooks it. You just wait for the waiter to serve you your order.

Why only the spaghetti?

I don’t know. Ask the chef?

Can we do that?

I’ve never really tried.

But have you ever been curious?

Always.

Have you ordered spaghetti here before?

Yes, one time.

Did you actually cook it yourself?

Yes, I did.

Really?

Yes. I ordered spaghetti and a minute later, a waiter asked me to follow him. He led me to the kitchen and he pointed at all the ingredients that I needed to make the spaghetti. They were all on one part of the table.

You mean all, including ingredients for the sauce?

Yes, all. I have to chop, slice, fry, boil, all the work.

Interesting.

After I was done cooking, I put everything, pasta, and sauce on a plate. The chef told me I could choose any garnish that I wanted. I could just look in the refrigerator.

Did you?

No, I had all that I needed.

Then?

Then I went back to my table with my spaghetti and ate it. It was weird.

Weird? What do you mean?

The spaghetti tasted different.

How different? Bad?

No, I cooked it myself so I made sure it would taste the way I wanted it.

So, why did you say it was weird?

It tasted empty. Like you know it's spaghetti and it tastes like spaghetti but while you eat it, it's like air. It went on your tongue, touched all your taste buds and all, but it seemed like the spaghetti was not there. By the time I finished it all, I felt full but I also felt that I didn't eat at all.

Were there many other customers with you in the kitchen? I mean others who ordered spaghetti and were asked to cook it themselves.

As a matter of fact, yes. The whole kitchen was crowded with customers cooking spaghetti. Now that you mentioned it, it just occurred to me that few people were sitting at their tables at that time. The Dolphin Café looked empty because most of its customers were in the kitchen cooking their own spaghetti.

There are just four of us here now, you and me, and those old couples at the corner. Do you think most of the customers are in the kitchen cooking their own spaghetti now?

That’s very likely. Do you want to order spaghetti?

No, but I'd like to ask the chef or anyone why the Dolphin Café asks its customers to cook their own spaghetti.

I’m curious as well.

Want to try?

How about your whiskey?

I was lying about that whiskey.

You mean you don’t drink whiskey?

Never. I’m allergic to alcohol.

Then why did you say you only drink whiskey?

Because I wanted to sound sexy to you.

That’s obviously a lie.

Yes.

So why did you really say you want to drink whiskey?

I don’t know. It just came out.

So, you want to ask the chef?

Yes. Waiter!

He’s not coming. He just looks at you.

I go talk to him. Wait here.

All right.

By the way, did I mention how cute you are?

Don’t turn this into a cliché. Spaghetti, focus.

All right.

And he goes, disappear in the kitchen.

 

[,]

 

You’re back.

Yes, and you're still here.

Well, I am loyal to the end. So what’s the deal?

The chef refuses to cook spaghetti.

Refuses? Why?

It’s a long story.

I’m a fan of long stories.

Yes, but we have to order first. The head waiter was a bit irritated with us because we haven't ordered anything substantial, except for your coffee. I told them we'd order two spicy chicken sandwiches and a mug of chamomile tea for me. You're already drinking coffee.

I’m vegetarian.

Oh. I didn’t know that. Anyway, I can eat the two sandwiches. You order something green.

No, you can send the other one back.

I’d rather not.

Why?

It’s not a good idea to send an order back, especially here at the Dolphin Café.

Why? What happened to you in the kitchen?

Nothing.

Why the sudden loss of confidence?

What do you mean?

You were so cocky when you first talked to me. Now, you seemed unsure.

Oh, you thought I was cocky eh?

Okay, now it’s back. Forget it.

Did I…?

Shut it!

Fine. So what will you order then? Something green?

I’m good. I’m not that hungry.

So why are you vegetarian?

Is that really important now?

Yes. I mean I have a long story to tell about this spaghetti thing and so you need to tell me something.

Well, okay. Every night when I go home from work, I pass this store. There's always a truck loaded with live chickens. They are all stuck in small cages on top of one another. The cages are very small, just enough to accommodate their bodies and so the chickens have to stick out their heads to fit comfortably, and there are two chickens in each cage. It was like a chicken Nazi concentration camp. One store worker opens the cages and grabs the chickens by the neck. He usually carries four to five chickens in one hand by their necks. The chickens are still alive. What's odd is that the chickens are quiet.

Quiet?

More like silent. They were not making any sound.

Really?

Yes.

So.

So after I saw that, I stopped eating chicken.

Only chicken?

At first, then later, pork and beef and then all kinds of meat.

How about fish or other seafood?

I continued to eat fish because I read somewhere that fish don’t actually feel that much pain.

Yes, I think I heard that somewhere too.

But one fishmonger…

Fishmonger?

A person who sells fish.

I know that. It just sounded funny, “monger.”

I was buying live fish in a fish market and one fishmonger told me that I should buy dead fish than those live ones still breathing on the table.

Not in any container with water.

Yes.

Why did he say that?

He said that it’s merciless eating something that has suffered for a long time. I told him that fish don’t feel that much pain but the fishmonger asked me how I knew that for sure. I was not a fish.

So you stop eating fish.

Yes. I’m in trouble if scientists tell us plants also feel pain.

Then you’ll be left with eating air.

What about the spaghetti thing? Why does the chef refuse to cook spaghetti?

It’s a long story but let’s make it short.

All right.

The bottom line, his wife left him because of spaghetti.

Because of spaghetti?

Yes, one day he was cooking spaghetti and his wife told him. “I can’t stand it when you cook spaghetti at home. Why do you have to cook it yourself? We can order on the phone. The spaghetti in restaurants is better.”

Then.

Then the next day, his wife left him. I think about 3 a.m.

And he refused to cook spaghetti after that.

Yes.

That’s not really good for a chef.

Well, he was not a chef when his wife left him.

He wasn’t. What was his job?

He was an English teacher?

What?

He taught English to Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, Pakistanis, Iranians and I think one time, an Italian seminarian, which he said was way too attractive to be a priest. And he was commenting as a straight guy so I shouldn’t read much into it.

You got all that in 15 minutes.

He was quite a talker. Apparently, not too many people ask him why he refuses to cook spaghetti.

So why did he become a chef?

He wanted to be in a situation where he could actively and regularly refuse to cook spaghetti. And being a chef is the best choice.

Then why the Dolphin Café? He’ll be more satisfied cooking in an Italian restaurant.

He tried but all the Italian restaurants did not want to hire him when he mentioned that he would refuse to cook spaghetti.

But the Dolphin Café apparently does not mind.

Yes.

But why ask the customer to cook their own spaghetti? I think it's better they stop serving spaghetti altogether.

I asked that too but if they do that then our dejected chef wouldn’t have the opportunity to refuse to cook-

-Spaghetti.

You’re finishing my sentence.

We’re in that phase of our relationship.

Look at me smiling.

I’m looking.

My last name’s Velasco.

Mine is De Dios.

Li De Dios?

I told you Li is not my real name.

Yes. So what’s your real name?

Jesus.

Jesus?

It's pronounced as He-sus, with an H sound, not a G sound.

He-sus de Dios, that’s Jesus of God.

Is there any other Jesus?

There’s Jesus of Madonna.

Madonna’s new boyfriend. I guess only Madonna can find Jesus in a photo shoot.

Yes. Is that why you tell people your name is “Li” not “Jesus,” because your name’s too-

-too what?

I don’t know; I can’t find the word.

Well, it's not that. I'm fine with the name Jesus. I've never minded the jokes and innuendos attached to the name Jesus. I was fine with it, and being a good child, star student, and all, the name actually fitted me. Let's just say I made some nuns smile.

Nuns.

I studied in a Catholic school.

Didn’t we all. So why Li?

That’s something I prefer to keep a secret.

Secret, hmm.

Don’t you have secrets?

I do but I end up telling people eventually. I just can’t keep something untold. I always have this peculiar need to tell people.

That’s why you prefer to tell your friends the truth why you’re skipping G.I. Joe.

Yes, and normally when you tell people the truth, they won’t believe you. They assume you’re hiding something.

And did your friends believe you when you told them you met me in a bookstore?

No, they thought one of exes texted me and wanted some wild time in the sack.

And?

And I told them no. No. No. But they all laughed and let me go.

Funny, the truth is never believed but lies-

-People are quick to believe

Why is that?

Because the truth is always strange

Strange enough to look like a lie.

Yes.

Do you think the chef was lying?

No.

Do you think his wife was lying when she told him she couldn’t stand him cooking spaghetti?

No. I think she was telling the truth.

You don’t think she’s just saying that? But the truth was that she was having an affair or she never loved him.

Those are possible theories but I think she was dead honest.

Spaghetti, eh?

Yes, spaghetti.

So why did you approach me in the bookstore? I've been going to that bookstore countless times and not once has anyone ever talked to me about anything. Not even any of the store salespersons.

You were holding a Murakami novel. It was great seeing someone who also enjoys reading the same books that I read.

There was also another man holding a Murakami novel, and he was holding “Wind-Up,” which I think would be a better conversation starter.

Yes, but I asked you not him.

Yes, but he was more attractive.

Yes, but I wasn’t sure he was-

-But you were sure I was-

-Yes-

-But I’m not.

Really?

Yes.

How do I know you’re not lying?

How do you know I’m telling the truth?

Well, I can't. So do you mean that everything we talked about, including our dead fathers and the spaghetti and the Dolphin Café chef were all lies?

Possibly.

And if Li isn't your real name then there's a fifty-fifty chance that my name isn't really Geoff as well.

Yes. That could also be a harmless lie.

Harmless eh? If that’s the case, why don’t you tell me who am I then?

You’re a character in one of my short stories and all you said I wrote and all you will ever say I will write.

And when will this stop?

Right now, I have to cook spaghetti. Writing always makes me hungry.

Bye.

He said "Bye."

 

 

End.

 

 

I had just finished cooking spaghetti when the phone rang; I picked it up and ...

“Hello?”

“Hi there. Remember me? It’s Geoff. G-e-o-f-f.”

“You have the nerve calling me. I’m busy.”

“Of course you are. I wrote that. I typed he had just finished cooking spaghetti when the phone rang; he picked it up and …”

“Hello! I said I’m busy! Stop calling me!”

He banged the phone down. But there was no sound, just like the chickens hanging by their necks.

The end. (really)

 

 

Written: 6 September 2009, Ignacio Lee
Images created using Microsoft Designer.