Cafe de Hair

Café de Hair
Jesse Finarelli

Jerry entered the Corner Coffee at 9am, just as Colston had instructed. As soon as the door closed behind him he thrust his hands into his pockets and began to make his way to his right, towards a table in the corner of the small coffee shop. He made it a habit to keep his head down in public. I won’t be nearly as mysterious if everyone can see my face, he thought. Jerry was forced to stop when he tripped and fell over a chair that he didn’t see. The few muffled laughs and snickers were enough to embarrass and slightly anger him. He struggled to stand. He tossed his book bag on the white, coffee stained table, then threw himself into the red cushioned chair. He folded his arms hastily over his chest. These people can laugh all they want to. It just fuels my desire to write amazing songs about my dark life in this dark world. I think I’ll write one called, “You Laugh When I Fall But I Laugh At You All The Time.”
Jerry pulled his black Mead notebook and a black pen from his book bag and began to write, starting on the very top line of the page:

You Laugh When I Fall But I Laugh At You All The Time
you don’t know me
but I know you
you are all the same
and you make fun of me
but I secretly make fun of you all the time
yeah
and you are secretly an idiot

you laugh when I fall but I laugh at you all the time X3

That’s an excellent start, he thought. It expresses exactly how I feel about this harsh world with all of the harsh people in it. Jerry’s thoughts were interrupted by the beeping from his watch.
10am. Where is this guy?, thought Jerry. This is one of the many questions that filled his mind at the moment. Others included: Why am I here?, What does this guy, Colston , want from me?, and How does my hair look?
The latter of the questions was most always on his mind. Jerry loved his hair. He loved the blacker than black color. He loved the way that it was short in the back and long in the front. And he loved the way he could iron and gel the front of his hair into a single point that covered the left half of his face. It reminded him of a sharp dagger that pointed directly to his dark heart.
And, needless to say, the rest of the outfit accommodated the new age hair-do. He was wearing his tightest fitting, black pants today. Along with his faded black “Chuck’s” and a tight black t-shirt with small, red, lettering that read, “straight thru my heart” across his less than masculine chest. This was Jerry’s favorite outfit. This overall look was Jerry’s pride and joy. His general thoughts on the wardrobe and style situation? It totally shows the severe trauma and the problems that I have to endure on a daily basis as a seventeen year old young adult. My life is so hard. This outfit really projects my inner most demons to the public. I think I might write a song about that later on. I can call it, “Boys Like Girls With Tattoos and Girls Like Guys Who Dress Like Girls.”
As this last thought escaped from, and then returned to, his dark mind, he looked up at the sound of the bells dangling from Corner Coffee’s door. A rather large outline of a man filled the void that was once the entrance. The man paused in the doorway, maybe for dramatic effect, then made his way toward Jerry’s table in long, lumbering strides. As he reached the middle of the coffee shop he turned to his left and made his way to the breakfast bar.
“Can I get an extremely hot cup of coffee?” Jerry heard him ask the breakfast bar tender. “The hotter the better. Put it in the microwave for a minute or two if you can. I appreciate it.” The man threw a sideways glance at Jerry and the tiniest of smiles formed on the man’s face. The man looked back to the waitress as fast as he cast his sideways glance.
This gave Jerry the perfect opportunity to size the new man up a bit. He was tall and lanky. He was wearing a sharp looking business suit with a tie. He carried a briefcase. The man had a rather large nose and a very strong, chiseled chin. His blonde hair was parted on the side and was combed to perfection.
What a tool, thought Jerry. This guy probably goes to work every single day and sucks up to the man. I hate the man. He looks just like my father. I hate my father. I hate that stupid guy who provides for me and my family by working for the man. I’m sure that’s how Dad was able to afford my car. What an idiot.
The waitress handed the man his cup of coffee. “I put it in the microwave for two minutes, sir. Now I can’t for the life of me figure out why you want your coffee so hot. You’re gonna burn your mouth, you know? Shoot I had to put two sleeves on it just so’s I wouldn’t burn my hands. That’ll be two dollars and thirty-five cents sir.”
The man reached into his right pant pocket and pulled out a folded five dollar bill. He unfolded the money and handed it to her. “Thank you very much. Go ahead and keep the change.” And before she even had the chance to thank the man for his generous tip he turned to his right and started making his way in Jerry’s direction. Jerry diverted his attention back to the coffee stained table in front of him. I hope he doesn’t come over here, he thought.
Before Jerry had time to do much more thinking, the large man filled his left peripheral vision. Jerry looked up and to the left to meet the dark green eyes of the man. The man smiled and said, “You Jerry?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Colston. Glad you could make it. Sorry I’m late.” He sat down across from Jerry, keeping his briefcase in his lap. “I had some pretty important stuff to attend to back at the office.” Colston’s deep voice reverberated in Jerry’s eardrums.
“Fine. Whatever. Why did you want me to meet you here? I could be at home right now writing my deepest darkest feelings in my journal that no one is allowed to read but I plan on publishing later on in life after I become a famous musician.”
“You’re never going to be a famous musician, Jerry.”
“Yes I am. I’m gonna -”
“Shut up is what you’re going to do, Jerry. Shut up,” Colston spat sternly. “Now answer me this, Jerry. What’s up with the hair? What’s goin’ on there? You got like a turd thing hangin’ down in front of your face. What’s up?”
“It’s like a dagger that points from my brain to my heart. It shrouds me in secrecy. It symbolizes how the mind can betray the heart. And it covers my left eye because half way between thinking and love is blind.” As Jerry said this he grabbed his dagger and straightened it perfectly over his left eye. He went to reach for his notebook to put it back into his book bag but he missed it by about three inches to the right. Something’s wrong with my depth perception, he thought. Colston stared at him blankly.
“What... the fuck....are you talking about? Never mind. You see this briefcase, Jerry?”
“Yeah. It’s right there in your lap.”
“Good job Jerry. Now I have a wonderful gift for you Jerry. A once in a lifetime type gift Jerry. And I want to give it to you right now. What do you say?”
“I say what’s the gift, Colston?”
“Ah, I can’t disclose that information right now, Jerry.” Colston swelled up a little bit, “And don’t you fucking make fun of the way I talk you smart ass little son of a bitch.”
Jerry slunk back a little in his seat, “Well why do you keep saying my name all the time? Don’t get so angry man. I just don’t understand why you keep saying my name all the time.”
“I like your name, Jerry. That’s why I say it. Are you ready for that surprise, Jerry?”
“Yeah. I guess so.” Jerry looked at Colston with a hint of apprehension.
“Don’t be nervous now, Jerry. You’re going to love this.” Jerry pulled the lid off of his steaming cup of coffee and set it on the table. He set the coffee cup to the left of the lid. He hoisted the briefcase from his lap and rested it on the table to the left of the coffee cup and it’s lid. Colston grabbed his coffee cup and thrust his arm in Jerry’s direction, showering Jerry with it’s scalding hot contents. Jerry began to scream in agony. Colston couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it didn’t really matter anyway. He just ignored the cries of agony. He then flattened his briefcase on the white, coffee stained table and popped open the latches. He reached in and pulled out a long, shiny pair of scissors. He reached over the table and grabbed the writhing boy by his hair dagger/turd.
“What are you doing?!” screamed Jerry, “Stop it!”
“Calm down, Jerry. This will only take a second.” And with that he stretched Jerry’s dagger/turd across the table and tore the sharp blade across the frail strands of Jerry’s hair until he held a chunk of blacker than black hair in his hands. The chunk of hair and his hands dripped coffee all over the white table. “There you go, Jerry. Now you can stop being such a douche bag.”
“Fuck you!” cried Jerry.
“No. Fuck you, Jerry.” Colston placed the scissors back in the briefcase and shut it. He grabbed the coffee lid and placed it back onto it’s cup. He stood up and walked towards the door. He stopped in the middle of the coffee shop and turned to his right. He made his way back to the breakfast bar. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled a hundred dollar bill from the inside pocket. He unfolded the bill and handed it to the waitress. “Thanks Mary,” he said.
“No problem sir. Same time tomorrow?”
“Unfortunately, yes. These people never stop. Sometimes I think my work will never be finished.”
“I know what you mean, sir. See you tomorrow then. Same table as usual, sir?”
“You know it, Mary. You know it.” He turned to his left and strode out of the coffee shop and back into the dark, harsh world from whence Jerry came.