She could not take her eyes from him, and the hamburger on her plate, ignored, grew cold. The dedication with which he ate fascinated her and would have been admirable, were it not disgusting. He plunged his fork down into the spaghetti, twirled it and brought it up to his gaping mouth and chewed. Next, a swig of ice water, and fork down again, this time into the salad, and up to the mouth. Chew. Chew. Another swig of ice water.
He pulled the basket of bread toward him and picked up a slice, slathered it with butter, and with his teeth, snatched off a piece. Chew. Chew. A quick swipe of his arm across his shiny chin left a yellow smear across his wrist. He speared a meatball and took it up into his mouth. Chew. Chew. Again a swig of ice water.
With head bent low, so that his second chin bobbed precariously near the table top, his eyes moved constantly here and there over his food, back and forth from salad to spaghetti, as if deciding, while chewing one mouthful, what to attack for the next. And all the while (he seemed scarcely to take a breath,) cycle followed cycle in uninterrupted rhythm. Spaghetti--twirl--chew--water--salad--chew--water--meatball--snatch of bread--swipe the lips--again spaghetti......
Twice the young waiter refilled his water glass. The third time he left the pitcher of ice water on the table.
She wrenched her attention away from the orgy long enough to look at the waiter for his reaction to such an eating frenzy, but his young face, smooth and serene, gave not a clue to what he must be thinking of this awful man. Man? She shuddered. More like hippopotamus, she thought. Would she have been equally offended, she wondered, if this...this monstrous man were instead slender and handsome? Probably not. She turned to her own lunch, but it had lost its charm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grab the waiter by the arm as he walked past.
"Yes sir?"
"Apple pie," he said, twirling up the last of the spaghetti. He tilted back his head, popped the fork in his mouth, pulled off the food with his lips, chewed a long moment, swallowed, drank from his glass, and then continued, "double portion. A la mode." Out of the tomato-stained cavern of his mouth, his tongue darted to the right and mopped up a bead of water on his cheek. "And coffee -- regular. Cream and sugar."
The waiter nodded. "Right away, sir!"
Eavesdropping, she visualized the next course. Enough! she thought. I have had enough! And as the waiter passed by her table, she stopped him and asked for her check.
He looked at her solicitously and pointed to her untouched food. "Something wrong with the hamburger, mam?"
She shook her head. "No. I simply have lost all desire for food -- probably forever." Then, a sob catching in her throat, she said, "Oh, you poor man! How ever do you stand it? How can you BEAR to wait on such hideous pigs!"
He looked puzzled. "Excuse me, mam?"
Suddenly she blushed and wanted to be out of there. "I'm sorry. Please forget it," she said. Impulsively (in appeasement or in sympathy?) she laid a five-dollar tip on the table.
The waiter's eyes opened wide. He smiled broadly. "Why, thank you, mam," he said. "You have a very good day now, you hear?"