Eavesdropping Assignment

The music switches from a Jay-Z song to 50 Cent’s Candy Shop. Three girls walk in singing and laughing, wiggling to the music and shooting stares in my direction as I sit solo at a table writing in my journal sipping on a glass of wine. There is a skinny, plain-faced redhead who sits at the right corner of the table. Her larger, more aggressive-looking, flat-faced friend in the bright red coat is wedged between the redhead and a young Italian woman wearing a black hat with a pompom.

They play with their menus, giggling as they stare at the bartender and then switch to discussing drinks.

“Any draft beer is like 5 euro.” coos the young Italian in her raspy, singsong voice, “but, I’ll ask, maybe he’ll charge less.” She nods her head in the direction of the bartender.

“I’ll take you to the candy shop…” blurs their conversation as they order drinks.

“I like it outside more, better atmosphere, a little quieter, but the view is better inside.” The flat-faced Italian shrugs in the directions of the bartender. Her voice rises and falls in a rhythmic pattern: slow and methodical.

Her friends pause both looking simultaneously confused, “They don’t got a bartender outside…” Giggles fill the air as they all simultaneously smirk towards the bar.

“You can dance inside.” The redhead nods toward the dance platform above her table. “Although you know me, I don’t think you could ever get me up there. Maybe after a few drinks, but I’d really have to be pissed.” Giggles fill the air and the Italians begin to dance in their chairs, the redhead stares at her beer glass.

The Italian in the red jacket begins to rhythmically pack her cigarettes against the table. She checks the mirror behind her, fixing her hair and jacket, all the while smiling at the reflection of the bartender in the mirror. “I’ll be back. Do you think he’d want a cigarette? I should ask…” Talk is masked with a volley of high-pitched giggles and motioning in the bartenders direction.

The redhead and young Italian sit quietly, moving to the music. “I really wanted this pair of boots I saw by San Pietro today. I know I can’t spend any more money, but the were perfect, black and only 40 euro. That’s so cheap in Italy. I should have got them you know.” The redhead chimes in, “But, you want to have money for Torino. I can’t wait to be a little more touristy over there, I am going to ham it up. Can you believe we get to go up there? My mom is so excited.”

“Your mom?”
“Well she really wanted to go to the games, I dunno...” Conversation fades into the music.

The flat-faced Italian walks back in. “I think he’s Cuban. Like I know he’s Hispanic; you don’t look like that otherwise.” She smiles, flipping her hair as she sits down, trying to catch his eye.

“I could do with a Cuban, he’s a cute little one too.”

“Is he Cuban, I mean, well, I’ve never met one…” The young Italian trails off.

“I don’t think he that cute, he can make drinks, I see him at Abbey, he must work there too and he always really nice.”

A second round of beers shows up, the young Italian pays, which starts a lot of muttering and protests from her two friends.

“I owe you two, it’s only 3 euro.”

“But, really I can pay, don’t worry, you don’t have to pay for me.”

The young Italian wrings her hands at the two in the customary Italian prayer gesture. The protests fade out.

“Grazie”

“Va bene.”

“Thanks”

The waiter walks away and the young Italian pulls out her cigarette pack and begins to bang it against the table. The music turns up and the conversation is drowned out.