Morning Coffee

Morning Coffee


The First Day

I picked up my coffee from the barista at the counter. I took it, with my newspaper and the cobwebs in my mind, to a chair that faced a window and the new morning rising over the trees. I found a short respite between home and work each morning left me better prepared for my day.

As I sat down I noted a man sitting at a table to the right of my window and view. He was somehow familiar; I don't know if I had met him before, but I must have seen him somewhere. In his late thirties or early forties, he was fit, clean-cut and dressed as a casual professional, not remarkable, but somehow pleasing to the eye. He had a comfortable, relaxed posture and a friendly, though quiet demeanor.

I sipped my coffee and opened the sports section. My college team was starting their spring football practice and I was already going through football season withdrawals.

Over the top of my paper I noticed the man move to welcome a woman to his table. She was pretty and petite with short, dark hair. She also appeared to be in good shape and in her mid to late thirties. Her face was remarkably animated with a nice smile and sparkling eyes, more noticeable in comparison to my own morning sloth. Their greeting and welcome was a quiet murmur.

As he pushed a cup of coffee across the small table to her, she took it, but paid little attention to it beyond a single first sip. She seemed to not take her eyes off the man...lucky him.

I turned the page of my paper and reviewed the roster of the next PGA event. It wasn't coming into focus as my attention was drawn to watching the couple over the top of my paper.

He was actively describing some event that he found amusing...using his hands to define direction and size. Wonder what it was? She still hasn't taken her eyes off of him. She is truly a charmer. What could I ever say that would get her to look at me that way? She is now telling him something about someone they both know. Her voice carries at the high points while his is indistinct and low. I find the low buzz of their conversation somehow comforting as they traverse various indistinguishable topics.

Huh! The topic has apparently changed, and with it a corresponding change in the atmosphere of the room. No longer all light and airy...he seems to be speaking seriously now. He is trying to explain something...looks regretful and reaches over to touch her forearm. She isn't withdrawing, but finally lowers her eyes from his face for the first time since she sat down. Ah...how did that single act leave me so distraught? Could he be breaking up with her? You fool!

He looks around and notes that I am there...I fortunately shift my eyes back to my paper a second before and review a car ad that had been facing me for a few minutes. Now he tries to bring her back to her previous mood...that bubbling enthusiasm was intoxicating. He says quite clearly and distinctly "I'm not the same man...."and then his voice dropped to the usual murmur. A soft, smooth voice; adamant, but kind and almost pleading. She nods in reply and may be starting to cry.

Uncomfortable with her budding emotion and the look of concern on his face, I switch from the sports section to lifestyle...I must check my horoscope; hmmm, "My day will hold an interesting encounter..." with whom, I wonder?

As I turn the page he states "Instead of looking to the past to define each other, we should be looking forward and..." again the volume of his voice trailed off while his face bears an almost beseeching look; he turns his head to a slight angle to soften his comments.

She looks toward the ceiling and shakes back her hair and gives him a touching and ravishing half-smile with the same angle of the head. She said clearly that "That's fine...its just that the memories are all so strong and its so hard to take you out of that context...do you know what I'm saying?" He immediately responded with a hand that took one of hers and reassured her. Part of what he said, or all I could hear was "...I feel it every bit as strongly as you, but ...not there anymore...years have gone by and...different now...move forward from here. Don't deny the past just understand we're in a different world now...better, so much better!" Again the pleading, compassionate look. Is he now starting to cry?

I can't figure out their relationship. Maybe boyfriend/girlfriend, engaged or married. I don't see any rings...ah, wow. Her hands; the movements of her fingers in perfect synchronicity and coordination with the movement of her hands...like ballet, I can't take my eyes off. The smooth forearms, no bone or muscular definition to mar the china-doll transition from forearm to wrist and on to small hands, again, completely smooth with flawless flow into perfectly sculpted fingers. Holy cow. Just watching her slowly pick up her coffee, take a sip and replace the cup is like a moving sculpture.

Go back to your paper; take a sip of coffee and a deep breath, big boy. Obviously some serious stuff going on over there and you aren't a part of it.

She is now describing another individual...are they reminiscing? Sure seems like it. They must not be married although they have an extremely strong "ownership" feel about them. No one in this place of ten or twelve people exist to them...I mean I am only ten feet way and he has looked my way exactly once since I sat down, and she hasn't looked over here yet.

She just reached out a magnificently shaped hand and placed it on his right forearm. The same hand that holds his cup so he can't drink. She reassures him now...something about "...not that you need to be concerned..." and that gets his attention, as if she didn't already own all of it. Now he is saying that "...not concerned, but...", finishes the sentence and continues looking at her pensively. I can read an entire range of emotion on his face...he's no card player...not that I would know, but he is extremely concerned. If it could take her away from me I'd be concerned also.

She put her other hand on his other hand and smiles coquettishly...she is really playing this up. And it is like magic...he now gives her a half-smile and his eyes don't leave hers. Wow, even the little bit of her show I am getting has a tremendous effect. She is amazing. She tells him something in a quiet voice and he replies and smiles. She throws her hands up, her head back and laughs...a single "Aaaah!" of surprised, pure joy, and graces him with an enormous smile and says "I knew you could never change...you never have! I've known you forever, and I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, that's the old --- I know!" Why did I not catch the name? That was strange...like her voice went quiet just then...or maybe I lost concentration.

His eyes leave hers and the smile slowly fades as he looks around the room, almost to see who might have heard her or been surprised by her outburst. My eyes quickly shift to a blurred impression of the crossword puzzle. I hope he wasn't offended, because no one else would be; especially coming from such an adorable woman. I take another drink of my coffee; cooling quite a bit now and easier to sip.

Ah...her perfume has begun wafting over me with her movement. That is delicious...I am almost tempted to ask her what it is...kind of takes me back...to where? No, let's sit right here. The comics will get no more neglect from me today, so I exchange it with the front page section of the paper.

He asks her some questions and she considers her answers. She seems willing to accommodate him in any way she can, but it appears there are difficulties or complications in what he would like to do. She isn't upset, just seems a little perplexed. Oh, my...the way she wrinkles her brow...two small lines between her eyebrows...and her lips pursed together push out in the center under a perfect cupid's bow...I am looking at an angel...

Who is this guy who gets all the attention of this heavenly being? I am envious that he has the seat across from her. I cannot begrudge him his good fortune...he seems like a decent enough guy, but it is apparent from the snippets of their conversation I hear that he is only coming back into her life now, which means he has not been around for awhile. And the only kind of guy who would leave a living doll like her is either an idiot, crazy or dead. I ought to know...and in my own experience I fell into one of the first two categories, and subsequently wished I was in the third.

Some arrangement is made and he takes a last sip of coffee and they both stand up. She puts the handle of her purse in the crook of her arm. She is finely built and well-proportioned. She stands straight and erect looking up to his face...a small blouse covering nice shoulders and a well-defined bosom...Capri-covered, long, shapely legs ending in tiny, flat espadrille shoes, feet slightly splayed like a ballet dancer. She listens to him with an almost adoring look. She nods, smiles and says "Okay!", and takes his arm as they move toward the door. She must be six or seven inches shorter than he, but they still fit...she moves with absolute grace...wow, just wow!

I see them talking briefly outside and they get into their cars and leave separately.

Why is this affecting me so much? I cannot remember anything in the paper that I read...if I read it at all. I am really taken with that woman...can't imagine why...she didn't even see me at only ten feet away. I was like the furniture. The man, although somewhat familiar, would only be remarkable in that he had kind of a quiet charisma. Something that lends an air of one you don't meet easily and if you do you do not forget the occasion. He has a receding hairline...not unlike mine, and he's about my size also...5'10" and 185. He does not appear easily approachable. The woman, however, had she looked my way I feel that I would have jumped out of my seat and introduced myself. She has an open, absolutely engaging personality. And, as that appears to be the case, he must have some strong qualities because she had no interest anywhere but in him.

I have a nagging idea that I missed something, which, first of all, is odd because I was secretly watching two people for no other reason outside of curiosity. Second, how could I have missed something when it all occurred right in front of me...Now comes the strange impression that I should know them...I don't get it.

My coffee is cold now, so I'll get back into traffic and on to work. Interesting morning.


The Next Morning

The day dawns slightly overcast and foggy as I walk into the coffee shop. I've got a double espresso for a change. I'm feeling a little meditative or introspective or something...at least a little circumspect. I sit in my usual chair facing the window and focus on my calming, but now fog-enshrouded view and have a sip of hot coffee...almost too hot for right now. I spread my paper over my right leg which is crossed comfortably over my left.

And here is my guy again...same table...and two cups of coffee! Great! I'll get to watch his girlfriend again. Here she comes...Wow! She changes a room...and she is in a mood for certain...matches the weather outside. He stands and gives her a brief hug...he senses her mood as well and is on eggshells...I wonder what he did? He doesn't know either. She isn't smiling at all and has her mouth set in a stubborn manner, but it doesn't make her in the least bit unattractive...she simply pulls all my attention regardless of her frame of mind. He asks her something but she curtly shakes her head and takes a sip of coffee...those sculpted hands again. I just want to hold and kiss them...uh, hope I didn't say that out loud.

He sips his coffee and politely and attentively awaits her opening line. She sets her cup down, takes a breath, and puts her hands in her lap. She looks up at him and he immediately moves closer to hear her...not that she is whispering, but...kind of polite...good guy...he read her discomfort, let her get settled and as she is ready, he is too.

She starts out low and got to what bothered her which hit at the highest note of her tumbling explanation. Something about her mother and what she doesn't like. I hear "...It's my life, isn't it?" His voice only carries in and out so I only hear bits and pieces..."She's always been that way. I remember her telling you she was the only one who loved you..., but I don't doubt she does..." He was gently trying to show her support and to help her come to terms with the mom...she is really beat up about it and he is really at a loss as to how to help her. Hmmm.

After a few moments of quiet she asks him if he'd mind meeting with her. He nearly spits his coffee as she timed the comment just as he'd taken a sip. She calmly looked around the room, probably more to let him recover than to see if anyone noticed. My eyes already revert back to my unread headlines which are just below my line of sight to her.

If he doesn't speak to mom on her behalf he deserves to lose her. I'd do anything for her and I don't even know her! C'mon, man! Do it!, I silently insist to my newspaper.

He sat back and looked at her, considering. How could he resist her? He leaned forward and started talking. He seemed to be assenting while explaining. I heard "...never liked me, even before, what makes you think it will make any difference?" I can't hear what else he was saying, then "Of course I'll meet her but as you know my name is mud with her, and ..." The rest of his comments are too low to hear. He really doesn't like this kind of conflict. It shows in his eyes...usually remarkably untroubled and calm, now it's as if I can't see them...kind of indistinct. This is apparently a big deal. Maybe it's about him...mom doesn't approve...that's got to be it. Old history...they met, fell in love, got separated...maybe because of mom, went on with their lives, find themselves together again and still mom is in the way. Sounds kind of familiar...I'm almost placing them into my own past reality, and they seem to fit remarkably well. Who knows, maybe I'm all wrong, but I'm kind of feeling a sense of the whole thing...anyway its fun to watch...and she is just so magnificent to look at...every movement, expression and comment is just a sheer joy. I take another sip of coffee and try to focus on the unread page of my paper.

He has succumbed to her undeniable charms and will do whatever she wishes. Good, she lays out a plan of sorts for which he nods repeatedly in response. Her mood brightens wonderfully; now that she's got him to help her with her solution we see her natural angelic light flow forth.

Oh, wow! The fog outside just now burned off and the trees are clearly visible...did her light burn off the fog or did the fog lifting bring forth her light? I don't believe in coincidence...wow...God's angels are the light-bringers, right? I was only speaking figuratively, but holy cow! Yesterday she brought it into the room, and today when she found her solution, it came. But if she's an angel, what's she doing with him? Or better yet, if she's an angel, what is he? She can still barely take her eyes off of him. They are both certainly about each other.

I haven't felt that way in...well, it's been a long time and she...well, "we" went our separate ways and into separate lives. Why has this old failed relationship come up again? I banished it from my memory years ago...mistakes were made and my only option was to move on...no benefit to revisiting the scene of my self-created heartbreak. She had been an angel also, but that is usually something you only come to realize after other experiences define what you had and lost. Interesting the way things work out.

I glance back at them over my paper and he is smiling on the verge of laughing and she is grinning and talking animatedly...her eyes never leaving his...again, wow...so that's what it looks like...pure, absolute joy in each other.

Another sip of coffee and a turn of a page to keep up pretenses. I can't quite hear her as she has gone sotto voce but her comment sure has an effect on him. He is pretending shock...maybe she propositioned him. Oh, to trade places here and now. He says something to her and her mouth formed an "O" and her eyes went wide open in surprise and she gave him a playful, soft slap to the cheek that turned into a caress...her hand slowly went down his shoulder and arm and rests in his hand on the table. Their heads are only a few inches apart above their coffees and they are talking again very quietly...their intimacy is almost palpable. I feel I have to move, but I am paralyzed in this seated position...my whole body is tense and almost painful but I feel I have to escape this scene...it's not mine to participate in or observe.

I am forced to remain looking out the window with the man and woman in a decorous but intensely intimate interlude in my very near peripheral vision. I finally break my paralysis with a deliberate look toward my coffee and a stiff reach for the same.

The espresso, now cool, tastes bitter in my mouth, while nearby undisguised love makes me feel simultaneously elated and envious. I am happy to see such strong evidence of deep intimacy, but I would pay someone to remove this guy and put me in his place...if it would only work.

He stands up as does she. He comes around to her side of the small table and gives her a significant hug. Her face is turned up to the side of his head and her eyes are closed while her smile remains. He begins to let go of her and her arms around him only release as he pushes away from her...God, I'm breathing heavily.

As they separate and prepare to walk out, her eyes catch my false glance up...I have been watching the whole time...I smile and she returns the smile...had I been standing I would have fallen down. Her expression washes over me like a warm breeze...a clean, even smile, no artifice, no underlying intent...just pure joy and sweetness. Her eyes sparkle at me simultaneously...seemingly with a bit of acknowledgment...an approval...for what? For listening and watching? Could she know? No way! Way? Could she have known the whole time and was willing to share what she could with someone so evidently starving for some form of closeness or attachment?

What am I thinking!? All that from a smile. Right. She turns away without a second glance, her hand in his and the other hand halfway up his arm near his elbow and holds it close...he won't get away this time; her head angled to look at his face as they walk to their cars.

She almost only looks at him. Sure he's reasonably good looking as far as guys go, but women always see something in us that other men never see. He is certainly no movie star, although I can't help thinking I've seen him before...receding hair, square jaw, straight nose, even brow, but certainly nothing outstanding...except maybe his eyes. I have only seen them briefly...very soft and brown...I don't know, but whatever he's got she sees it in his face. Maybe that mythical "mirror to the soul"...when she looks at him she sees her perfect self in his eyes...what? Where did that come from? Just an impression...weird.

They've gone now. It is safe to pull myself out of my chair. Again, paper is unread, coffee is cold and I feel like I just went through a workout.


On The Third Day

It is a brisk, clear morning and my coffee is leaving a steamy trail through the air as I walk to my favorite chair. The view appears to be in high definition as the sun starts to brighten the trees outside the window. The crisp atmosphere has an almost crystalline quality to it.

Ha! Third day in a row...the man and woman walk to their table and their same seats...first time they have arrived together. Some comfort in the routine. My newspaper may go unread once more, but I will continue my effort to keep up appearances.

He has gotten a haircut...fairly minimal with the thinning hair but he is even more clean-cut now, if that is possible. He actually appears happy and animated...downright lively by observed standards. I've got to quell my envy of him...it is not becoming.

Why does she bewitch me so? She does so again now, as she has every time I see her...she sits with an erect posture, her bright, sparkling eyes and smile on her open, happy face, awaiting anything the man has to say...nothing subservient, but just looking forward to the next opportunity to interact with him. Amazing. Her short, dense, lightly wavy hair moves when her head moves in conversation with him. The world through her eyes is unmistakably more than the sum of what she sees before her. I swear out of a collective hour I have observed her I have only seen disappointment evident in her for about five minutes...and it has always come and gone in short order. What a wonderful woman...and while I can still say it, what a lucky guy...why is he so familiar? Now that is starting to bother me.

What am I thinking? I can divine her thoughts and character by merely surreptitiously watching her over the top of my paper? Not likely, but maybe I can. She is so openly expressive and I am not hindered by hearing every spoken comment; comments which may throw me off the path of her true thoughts...as if.

He is harder to read...he is nowhere near as open as she is and nearly catatonic in comparison to her activity and liveliness...still waters run deep? He is expressive, just very subtle. That might be why she won't take her eyes off of him...she doesn't trust him and is trying to read his words and actions...I can dream, can't I? There is no doubt she wants nothing but him and no amount of dreaming will remove him and place me in his chair.

To his credit they are mutually enjoying each other's presence. They are acting like newlyweds or new lovers, but there is something old and mature in their relationship I cannot quite put my finger on...maybe a close familiarity. And she did make that comment about "...knowing you forever and you've never changed...", and they do seem somewhat "other-worldly" in their level of decorous yet intense intimacy...I can't say I remember ever seeing such an obvious bond between two people. So they've lived forever and are now, once again reuniting...been awhile, huh?

Oops...wow! What was that? Strange...I had that last thought and simultaneously I looked over the top of my paper at her and she looked directly at me...I got a smile, but her raised eyebrow held a bit of surprise...maybe at what I said? I am sure I didn't say it out loud. Is she reading my thoughts?

She is now looking straight at him and neither of them is speaking. After a pause he casually looks around the room and his eyes pass over me. I am trying hard to concentrate on my paper. I am thankful to note that it isn't upside down, but my brow is furrowed in frustration at my inability to decipher the words on the page before me...they're like hieroglyphics. My attempts are not assisted by the fluster and confusion in my mind...could she actually read my thoughts? No way! I'm just a little freaked out by my overactive imagination.

Settle down and behave normally. Look as if nothing occurred. Glance over the paper as you have before because you've got nothing to hide...she can't read your mind. I look up and again she looks at me with a small smile and nodded...I jerked my head back into my paper. Now I am spooked...I am scared to look up and what would I do if I did? Nod back? Then the guy would tell me to stay away, or something...and if she can read my thoughts she already knows what I have been discussing internally, which isn't something one ever brings up in conversation, and, and, shit! How embarrassing.

Ok, ok. Think nice thoughts...how attractive she is and how attentive she is to that guy, how much I'd like a conversation with a woman like that; to have her think of me as she does about that guy across the table...is she getting this? I'm afraid to look...I'm frozen in an open-eyed, blind stare at my indecipherable newspaper spread out before me. Deep breath, out, now turn the page and take a careless glance...busted! She's looking straight at me! I nod and smile and before I go back to my paper, I receive a sweet smile that brought me a feeling of calm...where did that come from?

My embarrassment dissipates and my mind and heart are no longer bounding around the room. Like the day outside, a clarity, a clean and clear understanding has taken the place of my confusion. I no longer feel the need to hide behind the newspaper; it falls into my lap and I watch them without concern.

They both stand up to leave and he looks directly at me with a pleasant smile, but his eyes draw me in...I am swept with a feeling of peace, calm and serenity and oddly, a comfortable familiarity. I can't look away. After a moment he turns and walks to the door. She had been at his side watching me with a tranquil expression, turns with him and follows him to the door.

I remain in my seat and try to make sense of the events and sensations I just experienced. Who could they be? Why do I feel so close to them? I feel like I am fighting to be confused, while my mind is pushing me to relax. I notice a card that the couple left on their table. I jumped up and grabbed it and almost ran to the door...they had forgotten it and I now could not wait to actually talk to them...this card was the perfect opportunity to break the ice...not that it needed breaking at this point...they already knew my soul.

In the parking lot there are my car and two others...one empty and the other pulling in, but no cars were leaving...and if another car had left in the last minute I would be able to see it exiting the parking lot. I look all around but they are not here. How long had I sat in my chair after they left? Wasn't it just moments before I noticed the card?

I went back inside and asked the barista if she happened to know the couple who had been sitting over there. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and replied "Uh...no" in that questioning manner post adolescents always reserve for anyone five years older than they.

Only then did I look at the card in my hand. It had my name on it! As I opened it with shaking hands I pulled out an unfolded card that said simply "She is waiting."


Days Later

I go back daily since that third day and I have not seen the couple again. Not that I expect to. On the fourth day I asked the barista if she remembered the couple who always sat at that table and she said she didn't remember anyone fitting that description...the only one sitting over there was me.

The familiarity I felt with the couple continues to grow and constantly piques my interest...were they providing me a sign, a taste of what I am meant to find or seek? An even stranger thought is that they were me and my past partner from that wonderful, but doomed relationship many years ago reconnecting in some sort of parallel reality...could it be that she is the one who "is waiting"? I am trying to locate her, my angel from the past, to see if she may actually be waiting, however I have had no luck to date. I would like to gauge the possibility of a more complete, more mature, more heartfelt relationship with the benefit of several years' perspective.

The motivation to somehow become that man in the chair opposite that woman now drives my every waking moment...the opportunity to share an intimate relationship with someone else who completely reciprocates your desire to be with them is an intoxicating prospect. Whether my past will produce such a bond or not remains to be seen, but my search for such an ideal relationship will go on...and it begins with my memory of a man and woman facing each other over a table in a coffee shop.