by Laina Turner
“How about a large coffee with two creams and two Splendas?” I ordered on my second attempt. I could do with this coffee, and it would be much cheaper than my last order.
“No Splenda. Just equal and sweet ‘n low” the girl behind the counter said in a bored voice.
“Equal is fine.” I was starting to wonder if this coffee was even worth the trip. Or if stopping at the gas station would have been a better choice.
“I’ll just have a large black coffee,” Brian said.
I looked at him and sighed. I knew judging him by his coffee choice would seem harsh, but the reality was that you could tell a lot about people by what they ordered. If a man ordered a black coffee and wasn’t sixty-five, then by my standards, that usually meant he was boring, boring, boring. On the other hand, if a woman ordered black coffee, she was probably on a diet. I knew that was a bit of a double standard, but it was still true.
I felt a little guilty about judging him that way and resolved to give him another chance. I wanted to be more open minded and tolerant. I sat across from him at a booth that looked like it had once belonged to a Dunkin Donuts. It was a faded pink and orange. As I looked around, I realized that everything in the cafe was used. What did they do, go to a bunch of going-out-of-business sales to furnish this place? In a way, it was somewhat cool. I liked it.
Brian started talking to me about his mechanics business as we sat sipping coffee, which was a surprisingly good, rich brew. My mind wandered. It was hard to focus because I had no idea what he was talking about and was distracted by being in town again. I looked around the Coffee Café at the other customers, wondering if I would see a familiar face or something interesting.—something more interesting than the car industry.
I noticed Helen Daniels, the wife of the Senator I was in Alkon to interview, talking to a much younger man I didn’t recognize. Helen was even more attractive in person than she was in her pictures. I hadn’t seen her in person for years. It wasn’t fair. Helen was beautiful and rich; it seemed like you should have one or the other, but not both. I was jealous. I was poor and only attractive on the days with low humidity, a problem I was sure Helen Daniels didn’t have, and if she did, Helen could probably afford to buy better humidity levels. Then I spotted Tracy Wellison. I had science with Tracy in my senior year. She still had the same frizzy blond hair and green eyes, courtesy of colored contacts. Didn’t that go out in the nineties? I wondered if she was still known as Willing Wellison, as she was aptly nicknamed in high school for her willingness to go with any guy as long as he was on a sports team. I smiled at the thought.
Brian glanced at me and must have thought I was smiling at his conversation as if it was really interesting, because he smiled back and continued talking. Something about a new type of fuel injector that only his shop had the computers to work on. Who knew that people needed computers nowadays to work on cars? I just heard blah, blah, blah… Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Helen Daniels arguing with the man in her booth. Now this was interesting. Maybe I could pick up some juicy gossip for my article. Who cared if it should be more of a factual human-interest story? People wanted to hear all the juicy details and Trevor was aware of that when he offered me the job. Therefore, he shouldn’t be surprised if some juicy gossip made its way into my article. The man looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place him. I interrupted Brian’s monologue to ask, “Hey, who’s that with Helen Daniels?”
He glanced over his shoulder to answer my question. “Him? That’s Tobey Stone. He works for the Senator’s campaign. I think he’s the Senator’s assistant or something like that. He’s the younger brother of Chris Stone. You remember him, don’t you?”
I nodded. No wonder he looked familiar. I went to school with Chris and vaguely remembered a younger brother who tagged along occasionally. Tobey had been a few grades behind us, so I hadn’t given him much thought. More recently though, I had spoken to Tobey on the phone. Brian was right; he was the Senator’s assistant. Tobey was the one who set up the appointment for my interview with Senator Daniels.
“Why do you think he’s arguing with Helen Daniels?”
“How should I know, Pres?” Brian said with an irritated shrug, obviously not interested at all and continuing with his explanation of fuel injector technology. How could he not be interested? I loved people watching—trying to figure out what they did for a living or what their relationship was, if they were with someone, or at the very least, making catty comments about the way they were dressed. People watching could provide endless amusement.
“It doesn’t make you wonder why the Senator’s assistant and the Senator’s wife are sitting in a coffee shop arguing? Can you hear anything they are saying?” I interrupted him again, even poking him to try to get his attention, but he continued talking about his stupid garage. “Listen to me, Brian.” I grabbed his arm impatiently.
“Presley, who cares?” he said, drawing out the words, annoyed with me. “It’s none of our business.”
“Besides the obvious fact that it’s interesting, I need to make it my business, Brian. I am writing an article about Senator Daniels. Therefore, it’s my responsibility to find out all I can about anything that might give me insight about him” I said indignantly. Even if I wasn’t writing an article, I would feel justified. Really, if they wanted to keep the argument private, they shouldn’t have it in a public place.
“Figures,” he muttered.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jackass.
“You haven’t changed a bit. Your almighty career is the most important thing to you. You can’t spend even a few minutes listening to someone else talk without thinking about yourself.”
I just stared at him. Seriously? Was he saying this? He had just talked about carburetors or fuel injectors or what the hell ever for the past twenty minutes, not even asking me if I was interested or what I had been up to, and he was mad I didn’t care to listen any longer? Why did most men feel it should be all about them? I had listened to him long enough, or at least pretended to, and my pretending had been damn good. I pretended to listen all the time, and no one ever knew the difference, not that they mentioned anyway. Brian hadn’t noticed until I had started asking him unrelated questions.
Back in each other’s company for less than two hours and already arguing. If I weren’t so annoyed, I would find it funny. Human behavior could be very interesting.
“Brian, let’s not fight. Can’t we try to be friends? We’re not in high school anymore,” I felt compelled to point out. “Besides, what do you care? Can’t we just enjoy our coffee and conversation?”
“You know, I thought maybe you would be ready to settle down. That we could reconnect. Maybe get back what we once had. You and me, we were a good couple, Presley,” he said, reaching across the table for my hand. I leaned back and just looked at him, my mouth gaping open, too shocked even to take my hand back. I wanted to laugh, but thought better of it when I saw his face. Even I wasn’t that mean. This was twilight-zone stuff. It couldn’t be possible! What had my mother been telling him? Was he still in love with me after all this time? That couldn’t possibly be right. Had my mother offered him money to get back together with me? A scary thought, but a much more plausible explanation than him still having feelings for me. Was there a dowry I didn’t know about? How did that go? Marry my daughter and get a cow and two chickens? I wouldn’t put it past my mother, although I wouldn’t expect my dad to ever go along, if he knew about it, and either option sounded horrible. I looked at Brian’s face; he seemed truly upset, and, while I felt bad, it didn’t change things. I hadn’t thought about him for years, and this was a complete shock, to say the least. But I was flattered. What girl wouldn’t be? I enjoyed the boost of self-esteem. I truly needed it, especially after this break up with Rick. I just hated for it to be at the expense of someone else’s feelings.
“Brian, I don’t know what to say,” I stammered, trying to figure out how to fix this. I wasn’t usually at a l
oss for words, but I didn’t want to be rude or hurt his feelings. “You’ve kind of taken me by surprise. I mean we haven’t seen each other or spoken in years. We don’t even know each other anymore. Why would you think we could instantly reconnect and that there would be something there?”
“Just forget it, Pres. I don’t want to deal with this, or you, right now. Thanks a lot.” He got up and walked angrily out of the coffee shop, muttering under his breath. Probably about what a bitch I was. But for the love of all things holy, what the hell did he expect? Thanks for what? I knew Brian was being sarcastic when he said that, but was it necessary?
I looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. It didn’t appear that anyone had. They were no doubt focused on their own conversations, so I just sipped my coffee nonchalantly and waited for Brian to cool off, come back in, and finish his coffee. I decided I would apologize to him, and maybe we could give this friend thing a second try. I would try to pay more attention to him and what he was saying, at least long enough for me to get home. I sat for a few minutes and watched everyone around me until I began to suspect that he wasn’t coming back. Nice. I hadn’t been back but for a few hours and had already been fixed up by my mother with my high school ex, argued with said ex, and gotten stranded. Some things never changed. All these years hadn’t mellowed either of our tempers. Now I was stuck without a ride home, and I doubted they had started a taxi service since the last time I was there. Especially not one that transported all the way to the boonies where my parents lived. I resigned myself to calling dear old Dad for a ride home and dreaded the thought because of the teasing that was sure to come. I should make my mother come get me. It was her fault I was in this mess to begin with. Although, knowing my mother, she would make me walk, as punishment for blowing things with Brian. Or she would spend the entire ride home criticizing me until we argued. I sighed. What made me so bad with relationships? I should have been able to avoid upsetting Brian.
As I contemplated my next step, not in any hurry to call home for a ride, a familiar face came into the coffee shop. Another high school buddy, Dirt Robinson, whose real name was Derrick. After eating dirt on a dare in fifth grade, he was given the nickname and it stuck, making him the coolest kid in junior high. I wondered if he still went by Dirt. I couldn’t fathom calling him anything else, but as an adult, I was sure it had lost some of its coolness. As he walked up to the counter, he saw me sitting at the table, broke into a wide smile, and walked over.
“Look what the cat dragged in. To what do we owe this honor that you would grace us with your presence?” Dirt said to me with a mock bow. I squealed and gave him a hug. Always great friends back in the day, we had lost touch in subsequent years. Last I had heard he was in the Army.
“It’s so good to see you, Dirt. I am actually here for work purposes, to interview Senator Daniels.”
“Why do you want to waste your time with that sack of crap?”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I said dryly. “I take it you don’t like the Senator.”
“He’s a pompous ass. He thinks he’s so superior because he thinks he helps this town. I wish he’d stay away. He makes me work more every time he comes to town.” Dirt obviously had strong feelings about the Senator to go on such a tirade. Interesting information to file away for later.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at me, sister! I’m the law.” I took a closer look at him and noticed he was wearing a Sheriff’s uniform. Finally, proof that something around this town had changed—or proof that maybe the town was going crazy.
“Are you freaking kidding me? You, a cop? They must have been really desperate.” In our past lives, Dirt had run with the rowdy crowd, spending more time partying, causing trouble, and breaking the law than worrying about other people doing the right thing. I was shocked that he was a cop now. Nothing could have surprised me more. I would have guessed that he would end up here in jail, but not running the jail. I was mostly kidding. He wasn’t that bad, but this was a stretch for the Dirt I had known.
“Not only a cop, Presley, but an elected official. That means they really wanted me,” he said with a dorky grin, as he tried to be funny. “I guess I finally grew up and decided that I would try things on the right side of the law for a change. Once I tried it, I liked it. Since I know how a juvenile delinquent’s mind works, I can figure them out. It makes me very effective at my job.” He laughed. Having been one himself, I could see how this might now work to his advantage. “Besides, not much serious crime happens here, so I have a lot of time to fish. I also have to admit the uniform looks good on me.” He preened for me.
I laughed. “Still the same conceited jerk, I see. You don’t look half bad, Dirt, but Erik Estrada is still the sexiest cop,” I teased.
“C’mon, Pres, you’re breaking my heart. How can you not find me drop dead gorgeous?” he said with exaggerated bravado.
I agreed that he looked good in his uniform. His lanky frame had filled out, giving him a sinewy hardness. Just less than six feet tall, he had beautiful curly black hair, which had been long in high school and was now cut short, military style. And the most beautiful blue eyes. “So, are you on duty now?” I asked, “Or can you stay for a while?”
“Why? Planning on speeding on your way out of town?”
“Actually, I was hoping to bum a ride out of town from you. Even if it’s in a cop car, which is sort of weird.”
“How did you get here if you didn’t drive?” He looked at me quizzically. “This is pretty far from your parent’s house, and you never liked exercise before so I can’t imagine you walked here. Or do they drive you so crazy that you’re staying in our hotel?”
“Don’t ask.” I sighed. “It’s a long, but not unfamiliar story.”
“Let me guess. You came here with Brian. You two got into a fight and he left you here.”
Shocked, I asked, “And how do you know all this? Are you psychic now as well? You must be a good cop.”
“I wish, it would make me a really good cop, but no.” He laughed again. “I saw him storming out as I came in. Once I saw you in here, it was just like old times. You always did piss him off easily.”
“Me?” I sputtered. “Why do you assume it’s my fault? He’s the idiot, how dare you assume it was my fault.”
“Because you should take it easy on him. He’s been in love with you for years. To the point that he’s put you on a pedestal, always talking about how wonderful you are and how you were the one who got away and all that crap. You should be more careful about his feelings.”
“Well, I know that now. Look at you, Mr. Sensitive. But until he got mad and left me here, I had no idea he still had feelings for me. How in the hell was I supposed to know? That was years ago, and I have hardly even talked to him since then. I mean, why now? If he felt that way, why didn’t he ever try to call me?” Not that I would have wanted him to.
Maybe my mother didn’t have as big of a hand in this as I thought. This was weird. “You could have warned me.”
“Well, maybe if you ever came around, I would have warned you.” Dirt said teasingly.
“Whatever …so can you take me home or not?”
“Sure, let me grab the coffee I came in for, bossy,” he said and turned toward the counter to get his drink. I stuck my tongue out at his back, but it was all in fun. Even the revelation about Brian didn’t take away the fun of hanging out with Dirt. It made me somewhat sad I had spent so little time here in the last years.
******
“Can we turn on the lights and sirens?” I asked Dirt as he drove me home. Never inside a cop car before, I found all its dials and knobs very interesting and kept playing with things as he playfully swatted my hands. The radio kept blasting out messages until he had to shut it off.
“No. And you’d better behave or I’ll put you in the back,” he joked.
“Fine. You take all the fun out of everything. So then, tell me. Any juicy gossip about the Senator I should know?
Since you obviously don’t like him, any that you can spread would be helpful. I am interviewing him tomorrow and need all the inside scoop I can get.” I scooted sideways in my seat until I faced him, giving the shortened version of my old career, my new career, and why I was in Alkon.
“He chases other women, though his wife doesn’t seem to care. I’m sure she would rather him leave her alone since who knows where he’s been. Besides the personal stuff, I question some of his campaign sources. I just don’t trust him. He seems like he just tells you whatever he thinks you want to hear, and I know that would be considered normal for a politician in some circles, but I don’t like it,” he looked over at me and grinned. “That kind of politician thrives on the power, not the cause, and tends to take up the cause of the biggest donation. He’s too slick. I just don’t trust him,” he repeated.
“Well, with those standards, there aren’t too many politicians you can trust,” I joked. As we pulled into my parent’s driveway, the car lights flashed across the garage door and the front of the house. It looked as if there were still lights on inside. It was probably my mother waiting up to see how my “date” with Brian went. Wouldn’t she be disappointed. I thought I should play with her and say I spent time with Dirt. That might actually be fun. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime. See you around town I hope, if you aren’t doing anything tomorrow, a few of us will be hanging out at Pat’s.”
“That’s a dive.” I grimaced. Pat’s was primarily a trucker bar, though it did have a certain interesting quality to it.
“It’s a different crowd now, more yuppie-feel. Anyway, think about it. I know everyone would love to see you. Good to see you, Pres.”