The Triple Pinch

A chilly, fickle friendship is the best kind of friendship!

This time of year, a wind blows along the harbor that is absolutely spiteful. It chews through my jaunty scarf, sure, but also my very soul? So I feel exposed both physically and spiritually? Like, more than usual?

On Thursday, I had plans to go brood at the ocean but then this ill wind knocked me right into Sal’s Crab House, there at the tail end of Malus Pier. Which was fine—I go there pretty frequently for the Triple Pinch, the innovation that put Sal’s on the map.

It goes like this: Sal catches a crab, chops off one claw to cook, then pitches the maimed crab back in the sea. Then, about a year later, he catches that same crab with its grown-back claw. (Sal is maybe the friendliest proprietor I know in Fort Hook, but let me tell you he gets very squirrelly if you ask him how he finds that crab again.) And that second-generation claw is where the real flavor is, seeing as it’s done so much more living.

Anyway, Sal’s was busier than usual for that time of day, but then I scanned the specials board (crab turkey, crab stuffing, crab-berry sauce) and realized it was Thanksgiving. I’d totally forgotten, and that made me even more broody, but whatever, I spotted a seat at the counter and made a beeline, only noticing at the last second that it was taken by my pal, Voletta Black.

“Oh hey,” I said, or words to that effect. “Didn’t see you there.”

“I know,” she said.

Because here’s the thing about Voletta: she’s really good at contorting her body and face in such a way that she vanishes from sight. I’m not saying she literally turns invisible but she becomes so thoroughly anonymous that your attention bends away from her, refracted toward something else more interesting.

(Did she learn this technique as a teenager, when she wanted nothing more than to disappear from the face of Planet Earth, to not be perceived, to not exist as a human being? Yes. Did this systematic erasure of herself affect her self-esteem for years and years? Sure. But did she eventually discover how to give herself permission to take up space in the world, in people’s lives, in her own life, in a way that felt healthy and powerful? No, she actually veered way off in the other direction, becoming deliberately intrusive and disruptive and cruel to her loved ones, as if the only way she could truly be seen was by inflicting pain and sowing chaos. OK but did she eventually move past that phase and make amends for her emotional wreckage and build stronger, closer relationships? Uhhh that’s still a work in progress. Well, did she at least figure out how to turn her skills in manipulating attention into a financially stable career as a courier, running illicit goods between various Fort Hook criminal syndicates? Yes! Yeah. I mean, sort of?)

I said Happy Thanksgiving and she said likewise. I said, “So just solo takeout at Sal’s today? No family dinner?”

She found this funny. “Not a lot of families on the docks. Anyway I’m on call.”

“You still freelancing?”

“I joined up with a salary crew six seven months ago.”

“Oh nice, which one?”

“This going in your newsletter?”

“Is this private conversation going in my newsletter? Of course not.”

“Imma keep mum nonetheless.”

“OK then well why don’t we all go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. I’ll go first. I’m thankful that my newsletter has already gained a reputation.”

“For having a big mouth.”

“That’s right. Now you go.”

She rested her chin on her hand and thought it over. Then: “I’m thankful I got a place to sleep tonight that’s out of that wind. And friends who know me, and don’t get mad when I am who I am. But mostly for this crab pumpkin pie with crab whip cream.”

That pie did look pretty good so I tried to catch Sal’s eye to place an order. When I turned back, Voletta had already vanished. I wasn’t mad.