Category: Fiction

Setting my drink on the table I opened my backpack and removed the latest edition of The Week magazine. (Great weekly magazine by the way – and no I am not on their payroll.) I always start with section that is usually around page 10 which is a “people” section. I am reading and enjoying my iced coffee while also thinking to myself how fortunate celebrities have it. (I won’t digress about that now.) In the background the door dings off and on as people enter and leave the shop. The music – wait – “music” they have on now is really annoying and a couple people have sat at a little table in front of me and have determined that I and the others in the shop want to hear everything they are talking about. However they do not realize that they are dealing with a “professional café dweller” – mwah. I roll my eyes and reach into my backpack and pull out my pair of ear plugs (not your average ones – since I am a professional – mine our something like 90% noise reduction) which once I have put them in my ears I no longer here the two “people”, nor the dings, nor the “music” – just the ever-present ringing in my ears.

I turn to the front of the magazine and now am in the world of “The Week”.  Time disappears with every page I turn and I eventually look up when I am near the end of the magazine to see that an hour has passed (so has the two “people”). I removed the ear plugs, got my stuff together and was heading out the door when I bumped into Guy who is a guy from work. He is one of the few (can count on three fingers) that I could refer to as “normal/friendly”. We gave each other the nod (different from the coffee nod) and exchanged “see you on Monday – unfortunately” and parted ways. (Communication that guys can do that sum up fifteen minutes of uncomfortable female conversation and have a more beneficial result when it is over than many female exchanges. I know this to be true because I have a sister.)

Subconsciously I decided to drove the long way home (adding maybe 2 minutes) so I could pass the grocery store(Please note the word “subconsciously”). I was almost at the store when I realized what was happening, I looked at the clock – relieved that it was past their business house and then began to rebuke myself for this side track and subliminal sabotage. She was suppose to be a dead issue and I was suppose to be okay with that. I looked in the rear view mirror into my eyes and said “stop it idiot” and then glared at myself. All the good I had quietly harvested for myself since my reasonable decision and coffee time was quickly unravelled. I pulled in front of the apartment building, shut off the engine and once again looked at myself but this time I said nothing – my subconscious though decided to inform me “your reasons suck, just talk to her”. I looked away and got out of the car.

After mulling, worrying, fretting, and every other similar defeating action I decided that I would put aside the notions of asking Tessa on a date. I successfully reasoned with my self that, first – I did not need all this stress and anxiousness in my life and most certainly these feelings explain a subconscious omen to keep me from making a huge mistake. That is certainly reasonable. Secondly, I did not know enough about Tessa to ask her on a date or “just for coffee”. She could already be seeing someone or “her type” is anti-me in every way so that it reflects we would not get along in the first place. After all the anti-me would have to be an athletic, pompous, know it all, who is constantly looking at himself in a mirror and is a belligerent liar. (See, you now have a good idea of what type of person I really am.) Third, I am not interesting in the least which translates into when she asks me questions about myself I will stutter and give the deer staring into the headlights look which by severing any opportunity of a second date, relationship, etc.

Thankfully reason won out and now I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders, heart and mind so I went to the café for a celebratory iced decaf Americano which reminds me of something I noticed recently. I have in the past couple months went to a Starbucks in the afternoon and evening and ordered a decaf coffee only for them to tell me that they do not make decaf at either time but if I want to wait four minutes they will brew me a cup – translating into a French Press concoction of strong dark brew that will actually peel my eyes back simply because of its strength. Now am I missing something here? I would think caffeine is something one should start adding to their daily intake by no later than 3 p.m. so exactly when do they make decaf coffee? In the morning?! When you need the caffeine – that makes absolutely no sense. Again, I digress….

I entered the coffee shop which was a bit slow in business at the moment (ever noticed the herd mentality in a coffee shop?) as a couple tables had people gabbing and the two squishy chairs were unoccupied. (Why is it that you hardly ever if ever at all here good ol’ classic rock and roll in these places?) I placed my order and they want your name – I provided my coffee alias as usual – Ian (sounds more classy and interesting than my real first name – why don’t parents ever consider this kind of stuff before naming their child?!). After a couple minutes I hear the worker exclaim “Ian – order’s up”. I grab the coffee, give “the nod” (you coffee drinkers know what I am referring to) and head to a squishy seat.

I stewed over the ordeal for a couple days. Having to work for a living and the type of drama that often unfortunately plays at work kept me from getting out of my cell on time to pick up something at the store before they closed at 6. I guess that added to my exasperation but also in the back of my mind I knew it also kept me from either screwing something up or making a complete fool of myself.

Why is it “co-workers” (note the quotation marks) feel it is required to be a nuisance? From talking loudly on a phone so you can hear their conversation, to interrupting you at your cell (“cube”) by just walking in, having their cellphone sitting on their desk and then walking away and leaving it there so we all have to endure their lame ringer going off and not shutting up till the fourth or sixth ring default kicks the call to voicemail, and the king of rudeness – knowing some of your co-workers don’t wash their hands after relieving themselves in the bathroom? If I would walk with latex gloves on I would be considered the freak yet the gross idiot who doesn’t wash their hands is “ok”. But I digress…

I have been thinking about Tessa and trying to come up with a way to gather the guts to ask her out for coffee after work. Really the drama involved here is that I really she would be taking “a big step down” if she answered ‘yes’ while the opposite is true in my case. But that is not the problem, see if she would dismiss with an eye roll, laugh, or a lame excuse (“my cat died…”) it would shatter the picture I have of what type of lady she is. Losing that would be devastating, but of course she would be none the wiser about the whole thing but I would be crushed. So the delay in trying to speak with her can be seen as protecting me but in my heart of hearts I know I am protecting my vision of her.

She was doing her job like she always did. She smiled and talked to the customers and I noticed that each customer left her cashier with their products packed into bags and with a smile. Customer after customer, old and young, male or female – always the same result. I reassessed the contents of my cart again and realizing that my pulse had returned to its normal rate I began to proceed to her checkout lane. Only one other person was in line and they were about finished having just swiped their card. I placed my purchase on the belt and removed my wallet from my front pocket.

I walked up to the customer stand and she looked at me with her big brown eyes and said “Hi, did you find everything you were looking for?” And looked at me waiting for my answer. “Hi, yes I did – thanks for asking.” She began scanning my items and I watched her not the register display. She had her pulled back into a pony tail which displayed her long neck and earrings. She looked beautiful unlike any other time I had seen her. Was it her or was it me? A lady with a noisy kid pulled into her checkout lane with a full cart of items and sugar. I was distracted for a moment and when I looked back over to Tessa she was looking at me apparently waiting for my reply. I looked quickly at the register display that showed my total of $19.40 and fumbled in my wallet for a $20. “Sorry,” I said, “just went and visited another world for a moment.” She smiled and said, “Hopefully it was a far nicer place than right here.” I gave her the cash and said “no, it wasn’t”. She looked quickly over at me and our eyeballs connected for a couple seconds then she smiled, gave me my change, and before she could say it to me I said to her “I hope you have a nice day”. She tilted her head to the side very slightly, smiled, and said “Thanks, you too.” I picked up my two bags of items, nodded, and walked out quickly but not in a scared way. I began my conscious breathing – in through the nose out through the mouth – and was outside at the parking lot and then felt all my muscles, ligaments, tendons, veins, – well you get the picture – relax. I stood there a moment then realized I didn’t remember where I parked. Heck, for a brief moment I could not remember what my car looked like.

Once in my car I sat for a moment trying to slow down my thoughts and mind. My mind replayed the transaction over and over. I took a deep breath, held it for about ten seconds and slowly exhaled. “I’m okay” I said aloud to myself and turned the key. As I pulled out of the grocery store parking lot a single thought entered my mind in reply, “no your not”.

At the bookstore, armed with a cup of hairy eyelid peeling cup of “coffee” I began browsing the magazines. I decided to skip current events and economics and was faced with the two-tier section of women’s magazines. Onto the next shelf which was a mix of computer related, gamers, and music magazines. I took another cautious sip of the dark black stomach blistering brew and decided my strategy was a failure when a quick scan of the last shelf of magazines was for collectors, history, sewing, quilting, self-help, and spiritual. Turning around and surveying the store did not prompt me with fodder for a new plan. Any idea what I did? I dumped the horrible black liquid in the nearest garbage can and left the store.

Remember when you were a kid, a teenager? Yeah I bristled at the thought too. As tough as it was we have to admit some things were easier. For example, dating or “going out”. Really it was. Think about it, generally it was accepted as norm that any relationship with someone would ultimately end. Yeah it was grief at times and yes it would hurt but you were not really shocked as you are as an adult that changes for most people once the date progressed to a few dates then it was accepted by both parties – usually – that the relationship is expected to grow, develop, and hopefully lead to the happy ending. That is an awful lot of pressure if you ask me (which I did). Of course commentators, talking heads in media, Hollywood consistently project the 50%+ divorce which is no “big thing”, “take him for everything you can” and remember guys always have commitment issues. But I digress……

Observation is more than seeing, just like listening is more than hearing. I had been picking up my groceries from the same store for five years. For some reason though “that” day was the first time I saw, noticed her. She was not from “here”, she came “here” with her parents seven years ago after graduating from school in the Ukraine. Her name tag was labeled ‘Tessa’ and she spoke fluent English with her Ukrainian accent and her beautiful smile. The store had three checkout lanes and either fate or subconsciously I chose to be in her lane. We spoke, she is always nice, and I apparently oblivious to her – until now. Now – it was if the heavens had opened and bathed her in light with a full symphony accompanying this moment with music. My pulse increased to the rhythm of a Neil Peart solo, I apparently swallowed my tongue because I was aware of two things: a large lump in my throat and the excess saliva filling my mouth. I could not utter a dry sound. My psyche reacted by yelling “composure”, “panic”, “flee” and other conflicting actions so overwhelming I stumbled out of the lane trying to act like I forgot an item [not just my faculties] and fled to a distant aisle to regain my composure. I was a mess and acutely aware of it. I noticed my clothes, my shoes, the contents of my cart, my watch, I noticed everything for what it told someone who would actually see me. But then I cautiously sneaked a peek of Tessa and a smile slowly worked across my face.