The Stairs, Chapter 14
Indignity Vol. 6, No. 15
THE STAIRS
© Tom Scocca, 2025
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, and events is entirely coincidental, with the exception of the events in Chapters One and Two, which happened more or less as written, on the line between Cambridge and Somerville, Massachusetts, on Memorial Day weekend in 1999.
14.
"Salmon salad, on rye," Maxine said. "And iced tea, please."
"Salmon salad, on white," Theo said. "And a root beer. Please."
We were sitting with Emily at the lunch counter down on the first floor of Shinter's. We'd met her there at 12:35, out of breath, straight from the Fishhawk Avenue elevated and the back hallway, from the cold of the 1940 winter to the normal chill of the air conditioning, stuffing the sweatshirts back in Maxine's bag as we scrambled down the stairs.
I skimmed the menu, an oversized sheet of stiff paper in a heavy plastic sleeve, as fast as I could.
"Lemonade," I said. "And..." Lobster bisque? Chicken salad with tomato aspic? "Ham salad," I said. "On pumpernickel. Please."
Emily ordered a BLT and coffee and handed back the menus to the woman behind the counter. "It's fantastic," she said. "It's like 1940 or something."
"What?" I said.
Maybe I said it a little too loudly. Emily looked puzzled. "I was just saying, this lunchroom is like a time capsule," she said. "They've been serving the same things for years and years. I guess the customers count on being able to get what their grandparents got."
"Oh, right," I said. The woman behind the counter began setting down our drinks, in reverse order: coffee, lemonade, root beer, iced tea. The lemonade was whitish, like real lemon juice, not fake yellow, and the thick glass fogged over to make it whiter still. I wiped a little clear spot with my thumb and sipped at the straw: a flash of sharp sourness, then sugary sweetness easing it away. It even smelled like lemons. I wondered if the Shinter's lunch counter got them from the CITRUS & FLORAL NURSERY.
"Did you guys find what you were looking for?" Emily said, as the woman set down our plates.
I took a bite of my sandwich and let Maxine answer. The chopped ham was smoky and there were little crunchy bits of celery in with it. "They had never seen the elevated train before," she said, sounding almost uninterested. "So we ended up spending a while on that."
"Oh, right," Emily said. "You used to watch it go around the toy department forever, when you were Theo's age. I thought we'd never get you out of there."
"I can see it would be easy to get stuck there," I said. Theo started to snicker in mid-sip and broke out coughing. His root beer fizzed up and spilled over the top of the glass. I grabbed some napkins out of the countertop dispenser and blotted it up.
"Sorry," he said, simultaneously wincing and trying not to laugh. I looked away from him at Maxine, and Maxine looked away from me. It wasn't funny. The world was in danger of getting stuck in time. How could it be funny?
There was a thing they made us do every morning at the College Community School, the Daily Reflection, where we were supposed to sit totally still and silent with our thoughts, focusing ourselves on peace and productivity. The fourth or fifth time I was trying to make myself focus at school, I happened to catch Maxine's eye, and we both fell apart laughing for no reason at all.
It was not a peaceful or productive thing to do, the head teacher told us, gently and with disappointment. We agreed, it was not funny. But the next day, it happened all over again. Eventually, the only way we could get through the Daily Reflection was by looking straight down and thinking about how much we didn't want to get another one of those lectures, which didn't really leave us in a peaceful or productive frame of mind.
So here we were. The fate of the world was hanging in the balance, and we were trying to eat lunch like nothing was going on. It was ridiculous. It was terrifying. It was both. I kept my eyes on the marble counter and on my ham salad sandwich. It was a really great sandwich.
Find other chapters of The Stairs here.
EASY LISTENING DEP'T.
Here is the Indignity Morning Podcast archive!
TOM SCOCCA
SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.
WE PRESENT INSTRUCTIONS for the assembly of sandwiches selected from Catering for Special Occasions, with Menus & Recipes, by Fannie Merrit Farmer, published in 1911 and available at archive.org for the delectation of all.
COLONIAL CLUB SANDWICHES
Mash a cream cheese and moisten with cream until of right consistency to spread. Add one-fourth the quantity of finely chopped olives and season with salt and paprika. Spread between slices of bread, remove crusts, and cut in fancy shapes.
If you are inspired to prepare a sandwich inspired by these offerings, be sure to send your thoughts and a picture to indignity@indignity.net.
SELF-SERVING SELF-PROMOTION DEP'T.
