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want to send a message to my grandmother. I’d like to say that I miss her and that we’re all doing well down here on earth and that I crave her sticky rolls.”
    “Okay.” Easy enough.
    Her face twisted in confusion. “Aren’t you going to write it down?” she asked, annoyed. Then she glanced over her shoulder to see what I was still focusing on instead of her.
    “No, I can’t take the pad with me so it isn’t much good , b ut I’ve done this long enough that I have a very good memory. Don’t worry. Your message will be delivered verbatim.”
    She didn’t believe me and made me recite the message back.
    “That’s fine,” she assessed. “So…what now?”
    “Give me her name, when and where she passed, and I’ll deliver the message tonight. If you come back tomorrow , or any other day thereafter , I’ll have her response for you.”
    The girl’s mouth fell open. “Really? I mean you’ll really be able to tell me what she says?”
    “If she has anything to say, I’ll tell you.” I shrugged, familiar with the shocked response.
    The girl’s face lit up with a smile. “My friends told me not to waste my beer money , but I am SO glad I did!”
    “Thanks…” I replied, hesitantly. I didn’t think she intended to be offensive.
    “Now…” She reached forward and patted my hands that were folded in my lap. “You go over to that boyfriend of yours and make up. He looks pretty upset with you!”
    “What boyfriend?” I asked , bewildered. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t even have a single friend in the city.
    “That one on the bike ,” she said, surprised, pivoting in her seat to find him.
    We both looked toward his direction at the same time, realizing that he was no longer there.
    “Oh, well…when he comes back…” she said with a smile and one final pat on my hands.
    I was so focused on searching for him in the crowd that I didn’t even notice she had stood up and joined her friends.
    As it turned out, I didn’t need to search too hard to find him. Around late afternoon , I asked Sylvia, the hemp jeweler, to watch my spot and my bike while I went for a muff a letta , a delicious olive sandwich that I’d eaten for lunch the day before , and was instantly addicted to on my first bite. I ’d almost reached the deli shop when I felt my hair stand on end again and I instinctively looked behind me. He was quick , but I still saw him before he slipped inside a souvenir shop that sat behind a stand of masquerade masks and M ardi Gras beads. I hesitated but decided to confront him . I walked briskly to where I’d watched him disappear. As I entered the shop, I quickly searched the colorful aisles that were full of voodoo dolls in all shapes and sizes, dried mixes of Cajun and Creole spices, and shirts printed with catchy phrases . Nevertheless , after a thorough search , I found that he was no longer there. Figuring he’d slipped by me, I chose to forget it, quell my frustration, and go pick up my sandwich.
    When I reached The Square again, I went back to taking customer’s orders. It wasn’t until the sun touched the cathedral’s rooftop and the last of the tourists began filtering away did he appear again.
    Felix pranced up to me just as I was considering packing up my chairs for the day and stated excitedly, “Tofu.” He reminded me of a dog anticipating the taste of a bone .
    “What?” I spun in my seat to face him, keeping an eye on a twenty-something guy who was deciding whether to be my next customer.
    “Tofu. Also known as soybean curd. Do you like it?” he asked, his eyebrows rose in expectation.
    “I-I’ve ne ver really had it,” I replied, nervous as to where this conversation was headed after remembering his choice of breakfast foods.
    It turned out, my concern was legitimate.
    “Excellent! Get your chops ready ‘ cause I’m making my special dish tonight … Tofu Turkey Tacos!”
    “Mmmm,” I said, trying not to show my disgust .
    “Not to be confused with