”
Starting tomorrow,” I said. “Starting tomorrow, I’m going to be better. No more fried food. One drink a day–two at most. I bet that’d make a big difference, you know. In how I feel, too. Not just how I look. Seems reasonable, too. One drink a day. If we go to a bar or something, I’ll just get club soda after that.”
He sipped his beer and watched the game. Two teams he normally wouldn’t care about.
“You don’t believe me, but it’s true. I know you think it won’t last, but this time is going to be different. This time, I’m really motivated. I’ve gone beyond my threshold for–you know. Look, this is my last french fry–or, that one there is.”
I took the penultimate fry. The other one had touched his ketchup remnants anyway.
“You can have that one. And that’s it. No fried food, no alcohol–or significantly less alcohol anyway. I might start meditating, too. That’s supposed to be good for you. I’ve read some stuff about it recently.” I looked at him. “Well?”
He finished his beer. “Celtics play tomorrow. Thought we might go to Plan B for wings. But I guess you could get a salad.”
I frowned. “Or I could start the day after tomorrow, then. That might be better anyway–start on a Monday instead of a Sunday. The start of a new work week. The start of a new me.”
He ordered another beer.
“I’ll have another one, too,” I said.
