Everything felt so out of order. Within a few hours things had taken on new meaning. My dad had turned from a reserved aggressive and overly judgmental, domineering male figure into a doddering, drug fueled, sociopath intent on some unknown crusade. My longtime girlfriend, warped from her most recent maternal visit and the prior weeks of social and financial hardships decides that it is too much for her and that the way to alleviate it is through our parting of the ways.
“What the fuck!” I yell, slamming my palm into the wheel sparking protest from the car horn. Several nearby drivers look around expecting some wisp of an accident or car chase. Clenching my teeth doesn’t help alleviate the tension inside me, slamming the wheel didn’t either. I had thought at least that the steady growl and shouted explicative would make me feel better but they only filled the car with silence. The cauldron of emotions bubbling inside of me couldn’t be sorted or disturbed. It boiled and simmered rapidly leaving me angry one moment, forlorn the next and finally scared. It all left me vulnerable.
I pulled into the next hub of shops and parked. The sun was perched on the horizon watching me stroll across the asphalt. So much had happened and it was just the beginning of the weekend. The tiny voice that had guided me through most of the day chirped up a warning that troubles travel in threes. My attentions immediately shifted from the events of the day to the current situation.
I walked into a coffee shop and stood in line. I’ve never truly been to coffee shops, they seem to have a decent enough atmosphere and the people I know who attend are socially manageable if a little snooty. The patrons and ambiance become threatening under the foreboding of my third and final trial. Each customer could play a role in my cognitive and emotional undoing.
My gaze sets on a girl. “No.” I tell myself hoping for it to be an optical trick. The flash of her hair is like sooty copper under a burning sun, it flares as she becomes aware of someone’s notice and flicks her head this way and that.
“Sir your order.” The cashier commands.
I stride up the space I had not notice had opened and begin looking over the menu. All the while keeping the girl in my peripheral, I am assured that she will be the executor of the final transgression against me.
The vastness and quirky nomenclature of the menu overwhelms me. Scribbled on a chalk board in an array of colors and styles that beam friendliness and a welcoming embrace, it serves only to make me feel out of place.
Impatiently the cashier began tapping the counter with her index finger. I asked her for a small black coffee. She rolled her eyes and punched out a series of keys. I’m sure that there must’ve been some hip name to the coffee but I was in no clue to decipher the codex on the board behind her.
“Five thirty-five.” She read off to me.
I dug around my wallet for cash but was running empty. Grumbling about the price and mentioning that the coffee should provide me full service I handed the lady my credit card. She swiped it and punched into a keypad.
A chill passed over me as I felt eyes lingering on my profile. The auburn hair had been replaced with a face that studied me. I kept myself facing the register even as I waited for the moment that she would click two and two together.
“Sir, it was declined.” The cashier didn’t look surprised. She flipped the card back into my hand and waited with her fists lumped on hips.
“I don’t really have…” I began.
“Hey, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Seattle Blue sashayed up to me and planted a kiss on my cheek before dropping $5.50 on the counter and telling the girl to keep the change.
Seattle looped her arm around mine and guided me back to her table. I was speechless and probably had my mouth hanging open again. She planted me opposite her and then smiled from across the small table. “I remember you but not your name. All I know is that it’s also a city.” Her voice was softer than I remembered.
“Sidney.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. The images of that night replaying behind her eyelids. As she opened her eyes I noticed that they were a pretty brown. I had expected some exotic green but the brown was charming.
“You probably remember me.” She said her eyes meeting mine.
“You’re wicked.” I was grinning like a school boy. “Am I still supposed to call you Seattle?”
“You do remember.” Her cheeks went rosy.
“That was great up there by the way.”I said, indicating the counter.
“Irksome people bother me. She gave me the same attitude.” She drummed her hands on the table and watched me. “So,” her eyebrows went up. I was missing the social cue.
“Sorry, I’m not going to be as pleasant company.” I cleared my throat trying to prevent my voice from hiking as I said, “It hasn’t been a good day.”
“Personal bad or things where you work?”
I had barely spoken to this girl for more than fifteen minutes but something about her felt familiar and flowed. That being known I still said, “I’m sorry but I don’t know you well enough to say.” I didn’t want to ruin what was starting to feel like the only sane moment today. Something made me want to tell her but that feeling made me reel myself all the harder into a taught ball of introversion.
She just smiled at me, “Personal then. I get it. You don’t even know my name.”
“Seattle Blue has a nice flow to it.”
Her eyes widened, “So you remember my whole fake name. I must have made an impression then.”
This time I blushed, “Raucous orgies and pretty girls are not my usual so yes.” The hotness in my face subsided, “But you remembered me too, or else I would be trying to back out of paying for my coffee right now.”
“You made me laugh a little. I went out to support a friend. Orgies are not my scene as well.”
Was I flirting? Was it wrong for me to be flirting? Something inside me felt a tinge the traitor but most of this felt like a reprieve. My stomach was still in a knot with the echo of my father’s bellow and my heart was still barely beating with Rebecca’s decision.
“Sorry that I’m not my comedic self. I’m just out of alignment.”
“Things are that bad? No need to answer. Anyways it was nice to meet you once more.” She began putting her book back into her bag. I wanted to continue talking but couldn’t think of what. I truly knew nothing about this girl. The most I knew was that she liked coffee shops, reading and had distaste for public gatherings of indecency.
Feeling like I was experiencing the third strike of the day I opened my mouth to protest. She stopped me with a look and put a card on the table.
“Friday I’m going to see a movie. Should you find yourself available and curious to check it out this is my number.” She slipped me a small square of paper.
I looked at the card. It had her phone number typed neatly in the center. I wondered if she gave these out regularly enough to print them. Who was I meeting and what was I looking to get into. Nothing else was printed on it. Perhaps it was a fake, but this was a strange way to give someone a fake number.
She continued, “Consider this your mulligan. Now we’re even.” She smiled then, “Next time we meet it’ll be on purpose and make sure you bring you’re A game. Before you ask too, this is not me asking you out. You seem nice and I’m talking too much.”
She slid from the chair and stood. With a flick of her hand, her hair was tossed back over her shoulder and she scooped up her trash.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She watched me for a moment and I caught a glimmer of her conflicting thoughts of telling me. She settled on, “I don’t know you well enough.” With that she began walking away. As a final thought she said over her shoulder, “Be there Friday and we’ll start.”
When the bell hanging above the door signaled her departure I began breathing again. This was wrong, something told me, Rebecca’s still around. The gloom that had vanished returned. Time to get back to my life.
I almost left before realizing that the woman at the register had placed my coffee on the counter. If she called my name or tried to get my attention I had failed to notice. Grabbing the cool cup I grimaced and left the coffee shop sipping its cool contents.
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