How You Have Grown

I didn’t know what to order, so I said iced tea to go - you can’t go wrong with that and caffeine gives you courage - then he led me to the hotel. I dropped a small crocodile in. No one saw her swimming around the cup. I put her on the desk to the left of the bed. She was very quiet.

I found out later his name was Robert. I still don’t know the name of the crocodile. By midday, she’d grown at least two inches and filled the cup. Stay where you are, I said quietly while Robert was in the bathroom. Things are going well, but you never know. I get that, she said. Also quietly.

Round six, said Robert. It was late and I don’t remember dinner. I looked over at the tea but the crocodile was gone and the cup was empty. I figured this was a signal. It was time for me to split. I found my clothes in the dark (it was still March) and went downstairs to wait for a taxi.

She was so big my purse bulged. We went downtown to grab supper and take in a flick. I let her have the last of the popcorn. We strolled the boardwalk, listening to the waves on Balmy Beach. You know this sort of thing wasn’t in the cards, don’t you, said the crocodile. Don’t flirt with him again. Promise me.