Free I'm with Stupid by Elaine Szewczyk Page B

doesn’t want William to think she’s interested in Manuel. “Aren’t you going to ask what it is?” Libby answers no. This does not faze Manuel, who tells her what it is anyway. “This,” he explains, “is a native blend called Winta. It is renowned as an aphrodisiac. The African name means”—he pauses for emphasis—“desire.”
    Max spits his wine. William looks concerned. I ask Manuel if he’s old enough to drink. Boy wonder looks at me for the first time. He declares that he is a man. He is seventeen.
    Max puts down his glass. “Libby here is knocking on death’s door,” he says. “She’s not even young enough to be your babysitter’s great-aunt.” Libby tells him to keep it to himself and looks nervously in William’s direction (oh no! has he figured out that she’s not twenty-three?). Max assures her he’s only trying to help. I know what he’s trying to help himself to. Manuel quickly decides that “age is a state of mind.” I tap my knife against my palm and remind him that so is insanity. William smiles at me and I smile back at him because I am very funny. Boy, this vacation is fun! I look around the table. No one else looks amused, certainly not Manuel, who turns his full attention to the woman of his dreams.
    “Libby, do you know how to prepare authentic Latin cuisine?” he asks after mentioning that he’s always been attracted to older women. He goes on to explain that when he is not studying the classics with his tutor, he is eating and nibbling and savoring—he’s a regular gourmand, whatever that means. Latin cuisine is his favorite but he’s tried it all: snake, eel, rat, even panda, which he claims tastes like koala when seasoned with saffron, shallot, and a teaspoon of Himalayan goat’s milk (a slice of chayote garnish is optional, as is the glass of vintage claret).
    William suppresses a gasp upon hearing that Manuel eats koala. Libby just stares into space. Her eyes are crossing. “It does not matter,” Manuel finally says. “We have servants to do that. I was merely curious to know how you enjoy keeping life’s supreme blessing—time.” Max, who’s still annoyed with Manuel for suggesting that he’s not attractive, blurts that she doesn’t want to spend it eating pandas. “Shouldn’t you be with your parents?” he adds. “I’m sure they’re worried about you.”
    I pile food onto my plate. I’m going to eat enough (of the meatless dishes) for everyone.
    “My parents are not worried about me,” Manuel answers. “I am a grown man. They entrust me with everything.”
    Max tears a piece of bread in two and sticks the larger piece in his mouth. “Is that right?” he says, turning the food over slowly like a bored cow.
    “That is correct,” Manuel stiffly says, then turns to Libby: “I am the heir to my father’s fortune. I will be a rich man in two months’ time.” I ask Manuel what will happen in two months’ time. “In two months I will take control of the tube sock factory,” he says. This gets everyone’s attention, including Libby’s. She asks what he’s talking about. Manuel treats the question as foreplay. It’s time for desire, perhaps premature ejaculation. He elaborates: “We own the largest and most profitable tube sock factory in Mexico City. It is a very lucrative business.”
    “Tube socks?” I ask. I can hear Max laughing. “Tube socks,” Manuel confirms. “I wear them every day but never the same pair twice.” I take a peek under the table. Between Manuel’s pant cuff and his beautiful (I can only imagine Italian leather) shoe, I see the fashion mistake of the century—a white gym sock.
    William seems intrigued: “You never wear the same pair of tube socks twice?”
    “Never.” Manuel shakes his head. “I wear a pair once and immediately dispose of it. Socks are nothing to me, like toilet paper.” I take a moment to consider this. Fascinating. Manuel agrees. He turns to Libby: “I want to know everything about