| "COFFEEHOUSE" |
| The handsome man in the trenchcoat closed the door to his car, dodged raindrops falling from an overhead tree and stepped to the curb. It was strange, he thought, that it could be raining so thoroughly despite the sun being so abundant. Nodding a smile to a passerby, he surveyed once again the odd weather and opened the creaky door to the coffee shop, its bell gently tinkling as an announcement to employees that a customer had entered. The man sauntered up to the counter and acknowledged the barista with a slight nod. "What can I get for you?" the barista asked. "Could I get a twelve-ounce mocha?" "Sure thing, coming right up," the barista replied. "Thanks." The man stood at the counter, holding his wallet in his left hand and tapping it against his right hand. The aroma of unground coffeebeans soothed him after his long drive. Waiting for his drink, he observed the small tables off to his right, where customers sat, reading their newspapers, quietly conversing amongst themselves or simply enjoying their coffees. A woman with black hair seated at the table nearest the wall, with her back against him, seemed strangely familiar. Though he couldn't see the front of her, it seemed that he immediately recognized her from somewhere. But where? He continued watching the well-dressed woman, convinced that he knew her from somewhere he couldn't place. The woman was discussing something intently with a man, presumably her companion. The discussion ended aptly and they both rose and embraced; a comfortable, loving embrace that he noticed. The woman gave her male companion a kiss on the cheek and they embraced again. It was then that he noticed who the woman was. She had the beautiful, black hair that he loved and was wearing a coat he had purchased for her back when they first met. Though her back was still facing him, he placed her. It was his fiance'. "Excuse me, sir. Your mocha is ready," the barista said. "Forget it," said the man, straightening his trenchcoat and striding towards the door. "I'm not thirsty." *-*-*-*-*-*- I had waited so long to see him because I knew how much he had been through. The death of his best friend. The divorce that soon followed. I could see the pain in his eyes, in his face, in his voice. He was like a wounded creature, straining to continue a conversation without allowing his emotions to break. "Robert," I said. "I'm so glad you were willing to meet me here." Customers entered and exited behind them, causing the bell on the coffee shop door to quietly tinkle. "Well, thanks for wanting to see me, Lorraine." His once-piercing eyes had a dull, careless look to them. "It seems like no one else wants to see me, especially as of recently." ?This was true, I thought to myself. Stephen, his best friend since childhood, had committed suicide after being laid off from work. It had been terrible, if I recalled correctly. Stephen shot himself in the head and it was Robert who found him, sprawled on the back deck of his oceanfront condo in a spreading pool of blood. What made it more distressful was that when he found him, he wasn't dead yet. Robert watched him die soon thereafter, a hole where part of his head used to be. Robert was so disillusioned by this trauma that his marriage became dysfunctional, and his wife filed for and acquired a divorce from him about three months after Stephen's death. "I love you Robert, you know that," I reassured him. "I'm always here for you and always will be." An almost unnoticeable tear leaked from Robert's eye and he attempted to smile, but it seemed more like a wince. "Thanks again," he said.. "You don't know how grateful I am." We both stood and hugged each other. I kissed him gently on the cheek and we embraced once more. "Now come on," I said to Robert, my brother. "I'm going to take you to meet my fiance'. Maybe it'll perk you up a little bit." For the first time in months, he smiled, and followed me out the door, the bell tinkling behind us. |