It was early yet when I pulled up to the curb outside ‘Bittersweets’. I make it a point to park far enough away from the place that I have to walk, but not far enough that i’ll regret it. It’s a skill. I checked both ways more out of habit than necessity before I stepped out of my car into the brisk, cool morning.
Everyone seemed to be somewhere else- it was eerily quiet on the street and this was a busy street. I could hear the stop and go of cars pulling into the big church on the hill but it was all so muted, all so very far away.
I passed a dazzling fire engine red Lamborghini with a wide berth admiring it’s pristine condition, leather interior with a rich wood grain finish; it could have driven off a sales lot, rolled 10 feet and parked here. Top down, briefcase laying unattended in the passenger seat and keys left haphazardly in the ignition- but I do not linger. I suppose it could have had a big shiny sign that said “STEAL ME”, but the effect was the same and was already drawing attention from across the street. Subtle. But by now I knew better.
The scents and sounds coming from the other side of the large deep brown heavy wooden doors with solid old brass door handles offered a more forgiving alternative so that’s where I went. I pulled at the heavy doors and they admitted me to warmth beyond. As the great doors opened time seemed to stop. Gone were the sounds of early birds fetching worms and the occasional car rolling to a stop at the light before continuing and gone were the church bells tolling the hour and the cool brisk wind and the leaves dancing in it. Then as if they’d been waiting for my arrival, just as I pulled my trailing foot in past the threshold and the door closed behind me, several things happened at once.
The opening notes of my favorite song began to play, the warm inviting smell of something fresh and crisp and clean brewing not far away wafted into my nose and i closed my eyes to take it all in lest I be overrun. And when I opened my eyes again there he was. The sole occupant of the cozy sized dining rooms’ tables, some designer suit tailor fitted perfectly, silver hair cut close but thick, a solitary red rose in his lapel, a matching red tie with what looked like a gold tie pin. “L”.
In one hand he thoughtfully stirred something deep and dark that smelled incredible in a demitasse cup while the other was just now tucking a blackberry phone into his inner coat breast pocket. Tomorrow’s paper sat unread and inviting at one of the opposing seats and my eyes flicked to it before glancing back into his piercing blues.
“That’s just lame,” I announced, sitting at another seat. ” I am always ever the optimist,” said he before removing the paper to a satchel slung neatly at the back of his chair. Just then, outside the expansive plane glass to the building’s east facing the street, a city bus pulled up, it’s door opened, and it’s one lonely passenger stepped down on the curb.
Before he reached the door, he pulled a hair tie from around his wrist and tied his thick long brown hair up out of his face exposing a deeply tanned ruddy complexion, broad hard worked shoulders and the strap of a messenger bag hung at his back. Shortsleeve shirt unbuttoned and untucked over a tshirt and a deep brown pair of extremely worn carpenter’s pants worn over sandals. College philosophy major or day laborer, you could guess either way- neither would be far off.
With his hair tucked neatly away, he pulled on the massive handled doors and walked in. Immediately a weight in the room lifted. The sun didnt get any brighter, and no more lights came on than were on before, but the space just got better. It (whatever it was) just didnt seem to matter as much.
“This,” he remarked looking sincerely in my direction “is a very beautiful and very sad song.” Then he greeted us both and sat in the chair I’d avoided after ordering hot water and a very old tea from a waitress who was stuffing napkins into a holder at a nearby table.
The three of us talked for what was at the same time an eternity and a moment while the world sat paused outside those windows. Cars passed, people came and went, but nothing really happened at all. The elderly gentlemen drank his coffee quickly, it was refilled at least twice before id bothered to stop counting, while my younger guest it seemed was not drinking at all and though i watched him put cup to lips several times I never noticed its level diminished.
We talked about dreams and wishes and longing. We talked about humanity and about the children out in the world. We talked about imaginary commodities, some real, some not so real and we avoided talking about each other, each of us remembering the agreement that it wouldnt be proper to discuss work during this time. We talked and laughed and talked some more until, at last or too soon, L produced his phone from his pocket and announced that it was time for him to go, “still plenty of work to do yet”.
He pushed his chair back and stood, smoothed out his suit and reached out to shake my hand in parting. My eyes went from his immaculate nails, his wrist draped in the most expensive watch i’d ever seen and finally up to his face smiling pleasantly down at me. I nodded thoughtfully to him but did not reach out. “Still hope for you yet young one, ” he smiled at me and then to my companion, who id noticed was also standing ready to leave. “J,” he nodded. “Do say ‘Hi’ to your dad for me.” J smiled. And then he left.
Quickly to the counter, paying the check for the three of us and leaving a very generous tip then out the door and into his car which roared to life and then purred quietly waiting while he buckled his seatbelt then, changing his mind, unbuckling it he finally, drove off.
J remained. He stood, slung his messenger bag to his shoulder. “I do enjoy these talks with you, but there *is* still work to do.” He shook my hand and looked at me like he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. “Thanks again, for the lovely morning.” I offered. He smiled warmly at me and left his empty cup resting on the table then proceeded to the door. When he opened it, a city bus pulled up to the stop right outside, it’s doors opened. He stepped on, they shut and off it went. I sat silently for a few seconds, watching the bus drive off into the distance before a quiet cough brought me back to the coffeeshop.
“Hon will you be eating alone or are you waiting for someone?” I glanced back to the waitress for just a second before “Oh… Sorry, Yes. I’d just like a bagel and some cream cheese and some coffee please.” She smiled at me like we were sharing a joke “It *is* a bit early in the morning hon, don’t worry – I phase out like that all the time. It’ll pass.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “It will.”