Every Saturday, we’ll be posting a new illustration by David Lester. The Mecca Normal guitarist is visually documenting people, places and events from his band’s 28-year run, with text by vocalist Jean Smith.
Martin got up, put the book on the wicker chair and went to the kitchen. The Man Without Qualities by Robert Musil. Nadine picked it up, sat in the chair and flipped through it, trying to recall the story. Its pages had gone yellow since she’d last had it out. Martin returned with the panini on a big white plate.
“You didn’t say what you wanted on it, so I got a little of everything,” he said.
Nadine laughed, recognizing the very male nature of his decision. A woman, she thought, would be more likely to err on the side of a specific sandwich with limited additions, thus lessening the chance of going wrong. As she awkwardly put together her comparative philosophy about men and women sandwich-buyers, she started to remember a little bit more about The Man Without Qualities. She was in her early 20s when a boyfriend had encouraged her to read it. She’d been dipping into philosophical fiction, enjoying Kafka, discovering Camus.
“Thanks Martin,” she said, handing Martin The Man Without Qualities and taking the plate. Martin could have said you’re welcome and now Nadine realized that he didn’t, as a rule. This reminded her that getting to know someone took time, time to notice such patterns and then, the trick, not to ignore what the patterns meant.
“Smoked meat?” she asked, inspecting the cross section between the focaccia.
“I hope that’s OK,” he said. “It’s excellent.”
Nadine laughed. “You had one?”
“Absolutely,” Martin replied. “Are you kidding? And there’s only so much you want to add to a smoked meat sandwich, when it comes right down to it.”
“So true,” Nadine said and took a bite.
