Yvonne Nguyen: The Look Back
Photo: Joanna C. Valente
The Look Back
1. Afterwards, I chew differently. Some bites even 70 times before swallowing defeat, just to make the meal last longer. Prolonging the opportunity for something to change. I imagine that every bite is a mouthful of pebbles I must grind into gravel.
2. Everything unsaid is horribly disappointed, still hanging there in my mouth too--between the pebbles I suppose. The half-baked rebuttals are still raw in the middle. They’re bleeding pink juices and dribbling down my chin. I call them medium rare and regret not sending them back to the kitchen.
3. Black dress, red shoes, A singular silver chain around my neck. That is what I wore to the restaurant. You have your brother drop off a jacket for you when they refuse to seat you without one. You bet that this is one of those restaurants that charge you $100 for the tiniest portion.
4. Right after you decide to leave, me and the restaurant, the waiter brings our food to the table. But you are already standing, already facing the door, already holding his jacket in your hand. Your head turns for one last glance before you go. The portions are not small. I take home leftovers and eat them for days.
Yvonne Nguyen is a recent graduate at the University of Virginia, currently residing in Richmond, Virginia. As a full-time English teacher, she takes pride in nurturing creative instincts in her students. Recently, her poem 'I Would've Called Her Honey' was shortlisted for the Brain Mill Press Poetry Month Award. Other works of hers can be read in The Roadrunner Review and Call Me [Brackets].
