A guy I worked with at the BSU Bookstore got behind me in line at Quiznos. This was the Quiznos across the street from Boise State. April 2008. I was about to graduate; my mom had been laid off from her loan-processing job and W. was sending everyone spending money. Trying to give the economy a kickstart. I wasn’t worried about it. My concern was getting lunch in the hour I had between class and my shift at The Bookstore.

That Quiznos no longer exists (just like every Quiznos) but back then it was a happening campus lunch spot. They had a patio, line out the door most days from noon to one.

They toasted their subs for those who don’t remember.

“Trees,” Ben said behind me. Ben was a former Marine. Had been to Iraq. Seemed to have returned in mostly one piece. I wasn’t one to pry.

“Hey Ben,” I said. I didn’t hate the guy. Didn’t like him. He was tall and skinny, kept his dark hair short and his goatee trimmed. He looked at everyone like they were beneath him. That day he was wearing basketball shorts and a green t-shirt. I knew him before I worked with him. Ben was friends with my best friend Bozeman, and I’d partied with him a few times back in the day, before he joined the Marines.

In line we chatted, mostly about petty crap. We were both in school, both worked at the Bookstore. We worked there, supposedly, to sell overpriced textbooks. Really it was more about moving Bronco themed clothing and merch. 

I ordered a Turkey Ranch and Swiss on Italian bread. Ben ordered a Steak Sandwich on Rosemary bread. They had that there. Rosemary bread. At Quiznos.  As our subs travelled through the toaster we continued to talk about work. It had been dead. Lots of standing around, dusting, sticking barcodes on pens. The spring semester ended in a few weeks and then we’d get busy with cap and gown sales. Book buyback. Deal with all the angry kids getting a five back (if they were lucky) for a book they dropped a hundo on.  

I paid for my meal and stood there while Ben paid for his. I was unsure what to do. What I wanted to do was find a place to sit, eat, read. Enjoy the smell of burnt bread. I was rereading A Clash of Kings and was almost to the part Renly Baratheon got killed. The melee at Bitterbridge. All his knights youthful and boasting. But Ben was also getting his sandwich to stay. I felt sitting by myself might be considered a selfish-jerk move.

“You mind if I sit with you?” I said.

“No,” he said. “Go right ahead.”

We took a spot outside. It was warm and sunny, if a little windy. It seemed every time I sat outside that Quiznos it got windy. I placed napkins under my tray and popped open my bag of jalapeno kettle chips. Filled my mouth.

Ben used one of the empty picnic chairs to put his right leg up. Gave me a good look at his hairy thigh. Took out his phone from his pocket. Looked at it. Clapped it shut. “Just so you know,” he said, “my girlfriend is on her way.”

I nodded. My mouth full of chips.

“And then I’m going to break up with her.”

Well, I thought. God dammit.

“Yikes,” I said after choking down my chips. Sucked down some soda. “That is awkward.”   

“So, you can eat fast and leave, or you can stay. It’s totally up to you.”

With this dismissal, Ben declared this a challenge. I decided to see this through to the end. See what trying to not be a selfish jerk got me.

“I have forty minutes till I have to be at the Bookstore,” I said.

“Excellent,” he said.

I ate. He ate. Ben with more gusto than I. He napkinned sauce from his goatee. “You know what it’s like to eat because you’re really hungry? Like your body needs to eat? So much more primal than when you eat just to eat.” His teeth tore another chunk from his oven toasted steak sammie.

“Sure,” I said. Though then, as now, I eat mainly because I’m bored. “Why are you breaking up with her?”

“Not feeling it anymore,” he said. “Better now before she hates me. Or I can’t stand her.”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“Charly is good people. But if I’m going to be with someone, spend all my time with them, it has got to be, you know.” He curled his hands into fists. Knocked them together.

“Obviously.”

Charly showed up.

I’d noticed her around campus, at the Bookstore, at Suds on all-you-can-drink Thursdays. She was cute. Tall with blonde hair, had on jean shorts and an orange Bronco t-shirt. Her nose had a slight slope at the tip, like a ski jump.

She looked at me like who-the-fuck?

“Baby,” Ben said. “This is Trees. He works at the Bookstore. And he knows Bozeman.”

She looked at me and helped herself to Ben’s BBQ chips. “You know Bozeman?” she asked.

“I sure do,” I answered, jealous that even though Bozeman had lived in Montana for years, he still remained more liked in Boise than I was.  

Then they were talking about their day, couple stuff. I became more of a hindrance. Not an uncommon occurrence for me. Charly kissed Ben and went inside to order her own sandwich.

“Gonna let her order a sandwich before you break up with her?” I said.

“Yeah,” he answered. All curt.

I took a bite of Turkey Ranch and Swiss, careful not to cut my gums on the jagged corners of toasted bread.

Charly came back and sat. The winds picked up and blew her napkins all over the place. “Shit,” she said and collected what napkins she could without getting up. She ate. Ben and her couple talked about people I didn’t know. She asked me, “What do you do at the Bookstore, Trees?”

“I’m the Trade Specialist,” I said. “Whenever they have a reading or an event, I’m the one selling books.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” I said honestly. “I do. I really do.” It was a student job. When I graduated that would be the end of my employment. I would miss it.

“Baby,” Ben said.

“Yeah,” she said after taking a bite. She put fingers over her mouth to obscure her chewing.

“I think it might be time we broke up.”

She stopped chewing. Looked at me. There was rage in her eyes. Sadness. Resignation. I looked away. Felt like a fucking child. Watched the people walking to and from campus. All I’d wanted was to eat lunch and read some George R.R. Martin. When I turned back Charley was looking at Ben. His body ramrod tense. The look on his face, bored. Charley swallowed down her food. Smiled. “Okay then.” Got up and left.

It was silent for a few minutes. My hands had a slight shake. I needed to piss. Ben pulled Charly’s slightly eaten sandwich toward him and devoured it. Like me, she’d ordered the Turkey Ranch and Swiss. Always my Quiznos mainstay. “Did you enjoy that?” he said when the sandwich was finished.

I know I said I didn’t hate the guy. I lied.

“Dinner and a show,” I said.

Ben snorted. The wind took more napkins out to the street.

Richard said, “Withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy.”

REM

What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?

– Ross Hargreaves