Not Another Ordinary Wednesday

She could feel him behind her as she stood in line, staring at her, not discreetly but determined. His eyes on her neck, her cheek, her back, her ass, her legs, her shoes. Up and down she could feel the heat of his stare. She wanted so bad to turn around and meet his eyes but she was enjoying this a bit too much to end it.

“I’ll have a black coffee with a squirt of caramel.”

She heard him slightly giggle behind her.

“What?” she turned around and asked. When their eyes met, time stopped for an eternity...

“A squirt of caramel?” he asked.

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?” she answered with a question.

“Absolutely nothing.” he responded.

“Good.” she said and turned back to pay for her coffee.

“Very good.” he whispered close to the back of her neck.

She took her coffee and purposely grazed his shoulder with hers as she pivoted on the spot, scoping the room for the perfect table. She found it, sat down and pulled out her Little Black Book and her red ink pen and began writing in it with a fierce, yet, calm intensity. The grind of a stool leg on the wooden floor jolted her from her Little Black Book.

“Is this chair taken?” he inquired.

“I believe it's got your name on it.” she answered.

”Are you revealing the secrets of the Universe in your Little Black Book?” he teased.

Her head was dizzy but impressed by his cool repartee. She gathered her thoughts, placed her knees together and inched her chair round to face him directly. There was an exchange of words but their meaning did not matter. It was a game of exploring and shaping their reality, a game that they had both silently agreed upon to play together and they were both, unknowingly, quite good at it. They laughed. She liked the way his eyes narrowed, and lips widened to full stretch.

“This is going well” he shared.

“Yes.” she replied, shuffling on her chair as adventure and excitement flooded her body.

And suddenly, they found themselves enveloped in silence. Who could stand it the longest? Which one of them would break it first and why and how? Surprisingly, neither one of them said a damn thing. And even more surprisingly, they were both equally comfortable in this deep, infinite silence. They each had moments of eyes fluttering, innocently, naturally, like butterflies do because they’re butterflies. But when their eyes met...in that silence.. they both surrendered their whole existence to anything and everything that would come next.

His hand automatically lifted and with the side of his right forefinger, he grazed her cheek, ever so lightly. Her hand automatically lifted and grabbed his, gently and reassuringly bringing it down to her lap.

“I think I love you” he says.

“I know you love me” she replies.

“Can I try a sip of your one caramel squirt coffee?” he asked.

The scene was set for what was to become a dance of epic proportions. Then it happened, the silence was broken by a scream. All heads turned toward the counter. A hoodie-clad thug was wielding a knife, demanding cash. Our hero scanned the room for accomplices and made his move. Standing, suede boot pivoting, he walked over to the counter, coat over his arm.

“Hello, can I help you please?” he inquired, his tone authoritative and sharp.

The thug looked at him, squinted and flashed the knife.

“Would you like a fork to go with that?” our hero asked.

“What the fuck?” replied the thug.

“You are about to eat me, aren't you?” our hero teased, with a hint of humor.

The thug lunged forward with the knife and within a second, was flat on his face with our hero knelt across his forearm, his coat wrapped around the blade. A cheer echoed across the room and within minutes the police had taken the thug away, cursing and slightly embarrassed.

Our hero returned to the perfect table, sat down and smiled.

“Where were we?”

Silence, once again, filled the void. And then she said, “Do you still want to taste my one caramel squirt coffee?”

“Is that a real question?” he replied. “Of course I do.”

She slid her coffee cup closer to him and said, “That was quite impressive. You must be a Hollywood stunt man or something.”

“More like ‘or something’.” he said with a sly smile.

That voice of his, the sly smile, sent a chill down her spine that made her legs shake just a little bit.

He took his time. First he sniffed it. Then he swirled it as if was an ancient vintage he was sampling.

She watched him, completely enthralled in his every move, every gesture, every rise and fall of his eyebrows. This scene was equally as epic and captivating as the super hero action scene she had just witnessed. She wondered how she got so lucky, how this Wednesday, this Wednesday that, until now, had felt like every other Wednesday that had come before it, mundane and predictable, had suddenly transformed into what, so far, was feeling like the luckiest day of her life.

“Let’s play a game.” she said spontaneously in a louder tone of voice.

“What kind of game?” he inquired.

“Simon and Garfunkel.” she replied.

He gazed back, looking lost. She leaned forward and whispered, “Laughing on the Bus Playing games with the Faces.”

His smile widened and he whispered back, ”She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy.”

With that, both sat back and scanned the room.

“Couple in the corner with the young child.” she retorted.

“Hmm, that’s Karen and Dave with little Sophia. Moved here last fall after her mother died. Dave has been having some problems adjusting to the city but he’s happier now that his neighbor, Matty, has introduced him to fly fishing, for Brook Trout down by the paper factory.”

“Is that a fact” she replied, stroking her chin.

“Definite fact.”, he replied.

“Wow. Thank goodness for fly fishing.” she said as she smiled widely.

“Your turn.” he demanded.

“Older woman next in line. Her name is Cheryl. Hardcore Catholic. Married her high school sweetheart, also hardcore Catholic. She has five kids, two of them are twins, 3 grandchildren, is a retired high school art teacher and has never said a swear word in her life. She also has unusual sexual fantasies but does not allow herself to entertain those fantasies when they comes up. She is buying Christmas gift cards for the her co-volunteers at the non-profit organization.”

“I had a feeling her name was Cheryl!” he exclaimed.

In the silence that followed, she took a sip of her coffee and smiled brightly at him. He placed his hand on her forearm as he looked deep into her eyes. She looked deep into his. They both disappeared into the abyss that stared back at them. Time stood still

“I’m...I’m sorry.”, he said as he lifted his hand, apologizing for automatically touching her again. She grabbed his hand as he lifted it and settled it back on her arm where he had placed it, keeping her hand on top of his.

“It’s ok.”, she told him softly, “It’s really ok.”

The intensity of her eyes staring into his was so strong, he had to muster up all his strength to break free from it. He succeeded and his focus landed upon the floor, on the corner behind her chair where he noticed something that he immediately knew was a gift. A gift for them. Just because. Why not?

“Excuse me.” he said, gently sliding his hand out from under hers. He took three steps and picked up the little, green, cloth bag that was on the floor, in the corner. He returned to the table and said,

“This is for us. No doubt about it. What do you think is in here?”

“$20,000.” she replied.

“That's all?” he teased.

“That's enough.” she responded with the corners of her lips turning upwards ever so slightly.

He handed her the Little Green Bag for her to open and look inside to see if she was right. She undid the white string that tied the top of it and nonchalantly peeked inside.

“I was right.” she said and slid the bag towards him on the table.

“Well then I was right as well. It is our gift.” he nonchalantly responded.

“Don't you want to count it?” she asked

“Nope. I know you're right. In the same way you know I love you.” he answered looking directly into her eyes.

He looked down at their hands. Somehow, during this exchange, their hands had become entwined. Something inside him shifted, not like a shift in gear or a muscle spasm, something ethereal gently coursed through his brain, landing there right in the center of his forehead. Like a powerful shot of happiness.

“Where were we? he asked meeting her eyes again.

She smiled at him with her eyes, felt the warmth of his hand comfort hers and took a deep breath.

“Right here.” she said, “We are right here.”

His breathing matched hers and as he exhaled, replied, “Yes we are. A good place to be. And I must say, you picked the perfect table for us.”

She let out a surprise laughter and said, “Love.”

He looked at her in such a perplexed way that he almost lost his cool for a moment. She noticed and responded with a tone in her voice which reassured him that he is always cool, even in his perplexity.

“Love is what I write about in my Little Black Book. Why do you think that word can be so intimidating, so overwhelming, so confusing to most people?”

“Are you talking to me?” he asked as he looked around, avoiding her eyes for the first time.

“No. I’m just thinking out loud.” she said, letting him off the hook, sensing his uncomfortableness.

“So, what’s the verdict on a black coffee with one squirt of caramel?” she asked him lightly as she came undone from his touch and arched back, taking a breath from the air that wasn’t infused by his presence.

“I’m not sure.” he said, answering her question very seriously. “It’s good but not something I could do every day.”

“Well, I don’t do it every day either.” she said as she moved back into his space, that space that instantly put her under his spell. She was feeling brave. Inspired.

He moved in a bit closer, testing this impossible reality that was manifesting between them, manifesting around them, encapsulating them in this story with no possible escape.

“Is there anything you do do everyday?” he asked within this magic bubble.

She leaned in a tad bit closer, so close that their noses where almost touching, and replied, “The answer to that question starts tomorrow.”

There was a timeless pause. Then he asked, “So, what's the first thing you'd like to do with our gift?”

“Lets go to Laughlin.” she responded with a feeling of certainty that she had never experienced in her life... until now.

His smile widened for miles. He took out $100 from the Little Green Bag and left it as tip on the table. She picked up her Little Black Book and red pen and placed it inside her purse. He put the Little Green Bag in his coat pocket as they both stood up. He put out his hand as if to say “after you”. Instead, she held it in hers as they walked out of the coffee shop.