The man behind the counter lifts his sleepy eyes.
“So.” Big exhalation. “Is there really a difference, noticeably, between 750 gig’s and a terabyte? Other than ten dollars?”
These are the kind of conversations I have in Best Buy.
At the register, a friendly man in a blue polo totals my purchase: external hard drive, digital voice recorder, SD memory card. $196. My blood vessels stiffen and I swipe my card.
I spent the drive home from Best Buy reminding myself that these kind of things cost money, and that in the grand scheme of things, $200’s a good price for the ability to archive my experience. Still, I can't stop thinking of overpriced airport food, the dismal exchange rate, exorbitant cab fares...
Three hours later, I’m not thinking of those things. My mind erases and my eyes flood.
“Sorry for the amount,” Ma’moun says. “I hope it will help.”
I am staring at a check. It is from the Baton Rouge Bienville House Center for Peace and Justice. Pay to the amount of Two Hundred and 00/100 dollars, it says.
Ma’moun doesn't see my disbelief. He shuffles behind me in the kitchen, fixing dessert.
“I changed the recipe, so it will be different than last time. More cornstarch.” I twist around in my chair and watch Ma'moun drizzle sugar syrup with a spoon. He is an older man, quiet and precise.
“Ma’moun,” I say. He looks up from the counter, mid-drizzle. “This is incredible.” I wave the check like a flag. “Thank you.”
“It is not much, but I am glad if it will help.”
“It already has.” I describe my purchase at Best Buy, and Ma’moun smiles.
“That’s good, good.” He slides a saucer towards me across the tablecloth. Ashtaliyeh—a gelatinous white dessert topped with sugar-syrup and pistachios.
“Thank you.” I grab a spoon.
“Too much cornstarch this time. Next time I will do somewhere in the middle.”
I scoop a spoonful into my mouth: smooth, cold and sweet. I taste the orange blossom water like a breath of gardenias.
"Tastes perfect to me.”
