Two cheese pizzas, please.

"Sir?"

"Sir?", she asked a second time.  Poor girl.  She was looking at me like I was a loon.  Which, I quite conceivably could be.

"I'm sorry, what did you say again?" I'm able to stammer out.  My hands are sweating.  I hate it when my hands sweat.  They aren't supposed to be doing that right now.

"I said that if you instead want two large pizzas, we have a special today.  Two large, two topping for $18.  Would you like that instead of the two medium one-toppings?"  She had a nice smile.  She really was trying.  Trying to be nice or understand what the hell was going on with me, I'm not quite sure which.

"I....uh....I don't know."  My response causes her to lose the smile.  God my hands are sweaty.  "Look, I'm not doing very well right now.  I'm sorry.  I know it's an easy question, but I really don't know."

What the fuck is wrong with me?  It's a damn pizza order!  One would think this could be an easier decision among today's activities.

"Look," I try to explain to the cashier, "my wife is outside in the car.  I'm going to ask her to come in and order.  She can do it.  I'm sorry, I just am not doing good."

To her credit, she gave a half-hearted smile and a slight nod.  Did she understand?  Has she seen this before?  Unlikely, I thought, she's probably just happy I didn't start singing the macarena.  Or maybe she knows someone...maybe she's married to one.  And that guy has the same thing going on. 

Or maybe she's just uncannily polite.

As I turned to walk out the other customer waiting on his pizzas shot me a quizzical stare.  No uncanny politeness there, he was freaked.  I about ran over a third person walking in as I walked back out to the cold.  The car.  It was over there.  I count the steps.

As I opened the door and slid into the seat I handed Nikki the 20 dollar bill.  "Here," I told her, "I couldn't do it."

"What do you mean you couldn't do it?  They were closed?"

"No," I had to close my eyes to continue, "I just couldn't do it.  I walked in, asked for the two medium pizzas, then I lost it.  I couldn't do it.  I just froze.  I just stood there, staring at her and froze.  All because she offered me the special.  And I couldn't decide."

By this point the sweat stopped.  The tears began.  God I hate that burning.  Is it allergies?  Is it burning shame?  Is it the feeling like my entire being was consumed in fire...a fire I could never extinguish, never escape?

"I told her you would go in and order," I turned to Nikki in the car, my eyes full of fire.  "She gave me options.  I didn't know what to pick.  Please just go order and apologize that I'm fucked up."

Nikki ran her hand through my hair, caressed the back of my hot, shameful neck.  "It's ok Bob.  We can just go home.  It's ok."  Hearing her say that was so soothing.  I almost believed her.

I put the car in drive.  Funny, I can drive a car hurtling down the freeway but can't figure out the special at Domino's.  Driving is nice though.  It's cooling, calming, comfortable.  I know all the options here and which ones to choose.  It's not too much, it's just enough for me.  And if I try really hard, I can just make out the lines on the road through my burning shame that is still on my eyelids.