DELHI BELLY

by James Jandak Wood

Your roommate Paul is standing behind you looking at your computer screen while he slurps and munches spoonfuls of Lucky Charms. He reaches over your shoulder and presses a milky finger against the display which lists restaurants seeking waiters. It’s a veritable United Nations of food: French, Indian, Italian, Lebanese, Mexican, Mongolian, Spanish, Thai, Ugandan, and Vietnamese. He points at a restaurant called Delhi Belly. Edward Pearson often goes there for dinner, he says. A droplet of pink, sugary milk slides down the screen from his finger partially blurring the names of the restaurants below. You ask Paul how he knows Edward Pearson goes to dinner at Delhi Belly, but he has stuffed another shovelful of cereal into his mouth so his answer sounds like garbled Russian.

Edward Pearson is the editor of Mingle, one of the top literary magazines in the country. Mingle has rejected three of your short stories.

You're on the internet searching for a job that will allow you to spend your mornings writing. You're more creatively productive early in the day. It's when Paul, who is also an aspiring novelist, is sound asleep. Paul writes during the middle of the night. On a 1950s Olympia Deluxe typewriter. At the kitchen table of your tiny apartment. One thin wall away from your bedroom. You wear noise-canceling headphones to bed, but the keystrokes are so loud they seep through to your ears as soft taps, like someone impatiently drumming their fingers.

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