He
comes here every Sunday morning at 10:45am. Somehow the comfortable cushioned
seats are always available for him. He likes the pungent smell of fresh pulled
espresso shots and the whirling sound of steaming milk. They have ceramic mugs
but he prefers the coffee cup and plastic lid. The ability to pick it up and
walk out at any moment allows him to feel comfortable here.
He
wears a cotton jacket draped lightly over his untucked maroon polo shirt,
keeping him protected from the cool river breeze drifting in through the patio
doors. He always wears relaxed khaki cargo pants with his favorite black
leather belt.
On
occasion something catches his eye and he gets up to examine it; a new plaque
on the wall or small boat on the river just outside the back window. He squints
his eyes and adjusts his wiry glasses on his face to get a clear look. He wears
no jewelry except the large watch on his left wrist.
He’s
sensible, responsible, worked for Hewlett Packer for 15 years. Now he’s a part
time technology professor in a small coastal town tucked away in the pacific
North West. The coffee there is amazing, his favorite part.
He
picks his head up from his phone to watch the people come and go for a while. A
couple middle aged women find their way to the couch across from his seat. They
exchange brief glances and he looks back down to his phone, fidgeting his feet.
He
knows he should engage them and put himself out there, at least that’s what his
late wife would have told him. “You need to socialize, Herbert. It’s not good
to keep yourself buried in those books all day.” She always pestered him to
talk, even to strangers.
Removing
his coat as the warmth of his nerves was overwhelming, he looked at one of the
women and as she met his gaze he panicked, set his phone down and walked past
her, “Would you, would you mind keeping an eye on my things? I’ll … be right
back.”
He
stepped outside and gasped in the cool air, relaxing a bit. Shaking his head at
himself, he looked back inside and watched the women carry on conversation
between themselves for a moment.
“I
can do this. Just talk, that’s all.”
He
took another breath and walked back inside, thanking them for watching his
belongings. The women chuckled and asked him where he was from. He answered,
short and direct at first, but as the women chatted on with comfort and energy,
he found himself letting go of apprehension and listening intently to their
words.
They
asked him about his work and his life and before he knew it he was discussing
politics and technology and health care. He found himself leaning over the edge
of his seat, smiling a bit, completely engrossed in the conversation.
Hours
passed and more people had gathered, joining in the conversation. The group
erupted in laughter and he looked around, stunned at the moment.
“She
would have been so proud of me.” He thought to himself as he touched his watch,
running his fingertips over the engraved words, ‘Herbert and Sherry for all
time’. And he smiled.
