The first time Carmen saw James, she believed he was asleep with his eyes open. He passed her in the crosswalk of Montgomery and California, and she nearly stumbled trying to get a longer look. His eyes revealed an absence, but he wasn’t empty; he was elsewhere.

The second time she saw him was the following day when he walked into where Carmen worked at the time.
He looked like the well-dressed, laughing men who came in from the Union Bank building every morning in clusters of four. They would flirt with Carmen with a fearlessness that made her feel like a zoo animal. It was a game they played with unnatural confidence. She wanted to throw shit at them.

As James approached the counter, she corrected her perception: unlike the other men, he wasn’t laughing with anyone. His solitude was so prominent it was almost obnoxious.
“How can I help you?” said Carmen.
“Um. I’m not sure. I’ve never been here.”
“Oh. Well, the Mardi Gras is good…”
“Okay. Do you mind if I ask, what exactly is a New Orleans smoothie?”
“It’s a smoothie.”
“So, no different from a San Francisco smoothie?”
“No.”

His gold wedding band reminded Carmen of every woman she had ever hated.
“Why are you here then?” he asked.
“Me personally?”
“No. Sorry. I meant the NOLA smoothie shop in San Francisco.”
“Would you like to talk to the owner?”
“Not really.”
“Large Mardi Gras then?”
“Yes please.”

He was silent as he put his money back into his wallet. Carmen felt a guilt headache coming on.
When she gave him his drink, she said, “Now tell me how it is.”
“Okay.” He averted his eyes to better concentrate as he sucked the straw. “Oh my god. It’s amazing!”
Misplaced embarrassment made Carmen chuckle as if he had told a joke. He didn’t seem to notice. With the straw still in his mouth, he said, “I can’t even taste the carrots!”
“It’s a peanut butter milkshake.”
“But-”
“I made what I thought you’d like.”

James licked his lips and grinned. “Socialist?”
She shook her head. “Woman.”
“Ah. Well, this is delicious. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”

He returned the next day, and Carmen blushed as she realized she had been looking for him all morning. “Another Mardi Gras?” she said.
“Uh, no. No. Actually, I wasn’t feeling so well yesterday after…”
“It made you sick? Honestly?”
“Well, yeah. I threw it up…”
“Oh god. I am so sorry.”
“No no no. It wasn’t your fault. Unless you poisoned it. Haha.”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay.”
“I’m really sorry. Is that why you came back, to tell me that, so I don’t hurt anyone else I’m trying to please?”
“What? No.”
“Well, you didn’t come back for more of my death drink, so why then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could try something else…”
“Oh. Right. What can I get you?” She blinked several times on purpose.
“Um. A small Louis Armstrong with a shot of vitamin C, please. I probably just caught something yesterday.”
“Uh huh. I’ll bring it out to you.”
“Sorry, again, about yesterday.” She set his cup in front of him and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he said. “What’s wrong? You look sad.”
She didn’t have an answer so she stared at him, feeling sad.
He said in a quieter voice, “Was it because of what I said? Because I was fine.”

Carmen covered her face with her hands then looked up at him. She imagined herself disappearing into his world. The Union Bank men couldn’t see her sorrow if it was dripping from her.
She sighed. “I feel terrible about making you sick,” she said.
“Do you want to go for a walk on your next break?”

They walked up Leidesdorff to avoid lunchtime crowds. “I’m James.”
“Carmen.”
“So, Carmen, why were you trying to please me?”
“Ha. You’re conceited.”
“No, you said, back there, about the drink, pleasing me.”
“Oh. I don’t know.”
“You do it without thinking? Please people?”
She shrugged.
“Jeez. I bet people fall in love with you all the time.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. Something in the words felt like an insult.
“Yeah, well,” she said, “love is a sickness.”
“Oh-kay. Hm. So what does that make marriage?”
“Hospice. Where love goes to die.” She realized too late that she had laughed at her own joke. But when she straightened her face and looked up at him, he was looking away, smiling.
After a long silence, he asked, “How about you?”
“No, I’m not married.”
“That’s not what I was asking at all,” he said. “I wanted to know if you’re in love with someone.”