Would You Like Fries With That?

"Yes. I am, where is she?"

"She doesn't work here anymore," the young woman told me. For a moment, I felt like I'd been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. "She told me to give you this," she said, passing a rather large, thick envelope through the window to me.

"Fuck!" I thought. Obviously this was some kind of a "Dear John" letter.

"Thank you," I said sadly. Moments later, I pulled out of the parking lot in order to head back to work, deciding to read her letter after I'd had a chance to calm down.

#

It was six month's before I returned to that particular fast-food restaurant. Pulling up to the speaker-box, I waited patiently to place my order.

"Go ahead and order whenever you're ready, the voice said. The words were familiar, but the voice certainly wasn't.

"I'd like a cheeseburger and a coke please," I said.

"Would you like fries with that?"

"I would. I really, really would," I thought.

"Ah, no thanks. Just the burger and coke." I knew I'd have a nice dinner waiting for me when I got home from work that night. The last thing I wanted to do was spoil my appetite. Susan really was an excellent cook.

That day in the parking lot, I had learned she'd had to leave unexpectedly. Her mother had taken ill and unfortunately passed away. She'd inherited a sizeable estate, needless to say, no longer needing to work at the burger joint. Susan asked me to wait for her, gave me instructions to her place, where we met that following weekend and spent nearly every waking moment of it in bed together.

Her favorite saying every time I go down on her, "Would you like fries with that?" has become our private little joke.