As I walked through the door, I got a whiff of the glorious, yeasty smell of baking bread coupled with a heavy dose of garlic and onion.
Reggie rose to greet me with open arms. He was taller than I remembered, a little leaner but more man than boy. He wore a backward baseball cap, and the outer corners of those large, brown Cavalier-spaniel eyes crinkled as he smiled. I noticed the dark circles beneath them. He hugged me fully and held on a beat longer than I did. I was giddy, not so much with joy as with relief.
“Oh my God,” he said, “you’re finally here.”
“Yes, and exhausted. But getting your note perked me up.”
“Did you use the dime?”
“No, the switchboard put me through. I still have it.”
“Keep it. Everybody in New York needs a dime for the pay phone.”
He gestured toward the table. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I could eat everything in this place,” I said. “And it smells heavenly in here.”
“Have you ever had a bagel before?”
“No, never, but they look delicious.”
“You’re in for a treat. Once you’ve tasted a bagel, there’s no going back to bread.”
We walked past the glass cases displaying wire baskets filled with bagels: shiny, golden rings, some with raisins and cinnamon, or topped with sesame or poppy seeds. At least a dozen different varieties. Farther down there was a deli section, where you could turn your bagel into a sandwich of any kind.
“You can have it toasted or warm from the oven, topped with just a schmear or my favorite, a combination of cream cheese, lox, red onion, tomato, and capers,” he said as if he were a waiter reciting the specials.
“Schmear,” I said as I looked up at him. “I see your Yiddish vocabulary has expanded.” He shrugged it off.
We sat down at the table.
“Once you’ve decided, you order at the counter,” he explained. “It’ll be ready by the time I’ve paid the cashier,” he said with a laugh.
“What are you having?” I asked.
“I’m not that hungry. I think I’ll get a plain bagel with nothing on it and a coffee. This place has good coffee, and it’s only a quarter. Best deal in town. But you order anything you want. It’s on me.”
“Okay, well, let’s see… I think maybe a toasted cinnamon raisin with butter,” I said.
We went up to the counter and ordered. “And a coffee,” I said.
“Regulah coffee?” the counter man asked me.
“Yes, not decaf.” He gave me a strange look.
Reggie was right. By the time he finished paying, we both had a tray with a bagel on a paper plate and coffee in a cardboard cup.
“Thank you,” I said to him as we made our way back to the table.
I took a sip of my coffee and grimaced. “Oh dear, he put sugar in it.”
“Yeah,” said Reggie. “If you get regular coffee, that means with milk and sugar. You have to tell them if you want just milk and no sugar.”
“Oh. Okay,” I responded, a bit puzzled.
He smiled at me and my obvious naivete.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.