Coffee in Common

by Dee Mann

  Walking down the hall, she heard the toilet flush. As she neared the door, it opened, and a man, clad only in tight, grey briefs, stepped into the hall.

  "Oh, hi," he said, rubbing his eyes. "You must be Shane. I'm Malcolm, a friend of Gail's."

  She blushed at the sight of his hairy, muscled chest and arms, trim waist, promising bulge, and strong legs and felt her face growing hotter as she realized she was looking down when she should be looking up. But by the time she lifted her eyes to meet his, he was already looking past her as he started back to Gail's bed. Despite her discomposure, her eyes followed him, feasting on the sight of his tight butt and the way his body moved down the hall until he glanced back when he reached Gail's door, catching her stare. Mortified, she spun around and hurried into the bathroom.

  11:29 AM

  "There you go," Shane said, sliding the stack of children's books across the counter to the young mother. As she greeted the next person, she noticed the line had grown. Where are they all coming from?

  A quick glance at her watch told her it was eleven-thirty. This was usually a slow time, a time when she could do things that didn't require concentration, when she could let her mind wander.

  Darn. Still an hour to go before lunch. An hour before she could sit quietly and daydream about him.

  She shifted into efficiency mode, using all her tricks to speed up the check-out process. A few minutes later, the line had shrunk to three. When she heard the front door slide open, she instinctively glanced over.

  Mark DeLuca unzipped his jacket and ran his fingers through his windblown, light-brown hair. He stretched his six foot frame and started toward the desk to drop off a book. I wonder how many titles there'll be in the card catalogue.

  One side of his mouth curled into a lopsided half-smile as it did each time he caught himself using the old term he learned as a boy and could not seem to shake, even so many years after computers replaced the massive chests of drawers stuffed with cards.

  A few minutes later, he surveyed the results of his keyword search. There were more volumes on hydroponics than he anticipated. He always began his research for a new book with an overview of what others wrote about the subject. After jotting down a list of titles, he lifted his denim-blue eyes from the screen and regarded the young librarian at the desk as she scanned library cards, books, tapes, and videos and tucked the return slips under the covers.

  Several times over the past few months, he caught her watching him. At first, he assumed it was because she recognized him from the photo that accompanied the short biography at the end of each of his books. But lately, he noticed she seemed just the tiniest bit flustered if he smiled at her when he was checking out research volumes.

  She looks about twenty-two or twenty-three, the same age Suzy was when I first met her. But what a difference. Suzy's hair always looked stylish, even after jogging for an hour. Hers just hangs there, as if it's too tired to fluff or curl. Hmmm…she looks a little taller than Suz, maybe five seven or eight. Too bad she doesn't have even half of Suzy's curves. The poor girl wouldn't draw a wolf-whistle from a guy who just spent ten years on a desert island. But her smile…wow!

  It was only in their smiles Mark thought the two equal. Suzy was beautiful to begin with. When she smiled, it only added to her allure. Shane, on the other hand, was not blessed with great beauty, but when she smiled, her entire face transformed into a radiant beacon that drew your eyes and held them. He only caught her smile a few times, but each time left an indelible impression. On several occasions, he considered telling her how amazing her smile was, but he was afraid she would think he was coming on to her, or worse, patronizing her, and did not want to take the chance of embarrassing her.

  Oh well.

  He shrugged and gathered his notebook and pencil. As he turned, he looked her way again just as she glanced over at him. Their eyes met for a second and he caught her almost panicked reaction as she quickly looked away. Grinning, he headed toward the shelves to find his books.

  7:41 PM

  "Come on, Shane," Gail wheedled, "it's Friday night. Why stay home alone? Come with us. We're going to D's." Shane clearly was not convinced so Gail persisted. "The Leon Roberts Band is playing…great rhythm & blues! And there's always a lot of cute guys there."

  Johnny D's was Gail's favorite nightspot. The club had a knack for finding exceptional performers, many of them virtually unknown until D's gave them their first break. On a given night, you might find blues, country rock, R&B, folk—even westernized dance music from Zimbabwe.

  "I don't know," Shane finally said. "I just started this really great book about…"

  "Book, shmook. Books are for rainy Sundays. How are you supposed to meet guys if you sit home all the time?"

  With a matter-of-fact look that matched her voice, Shane said, "Guys aren't interested in me."

  "Well I can see why with that kind of attitude!"

  "Leave her alone, Gail," Carol said as she walked into the living room. "Shane's a big girl and if she doesn't feel like clubbing, she doesn't feel like clubbing."

  "Thank you." Shane half-smiled her appreciation for the support whereupon Gail threw her hands up and almost stomped down the hall to her bedroom.

  "She means well," Carol said, taking a seat on the sofa next to the chair into which Shane had curled.

  "I know, but I'm just not into that kind of thing. I don't know why it upsets her that I'm not like you guys."

  "What do you mean?"

  "What do I mean? You're kidding, right?"

  "No, really."

  With a shake of her head, Shane said, "Look at the two of you. You're both beautiful, you have these great bodies and great personalities. Guys are all over you. Then look at me. Skinny, ugly, and shy. If I went out with you two, guys wouldn't even notice me. Heck, they don't notice me when I'm alone. I could probably stand naked in the middle of Main Street and nobody would even step on the brake to look."

  "Shane! That's a horrible thing to say about yourself. And it's so not true. You have a nice face. Maybe you are a little skinny, but I'd be happy to trade these boobs for yours any day."

  That Shane did not believe her was obvious.

  "You think I'm kidding? Do you have any idea what it's like having to carry these around all day? How heavy they are? Half the time my back hurts. And look at this…" Carol pulled the collar of her sweater to the side then moved the bra strap as well. "Grooves. I've got grooves in my shoulders. How attractive is that? If I wasn't scared it might screw up breast feeding when I have kids someday, I'd have half of them lopped off tomorrow.

  "As for having guys all over me, how do you think it feels knowing guys are only interested in me for my boobs? When you talk to men at work, do their eyes always drop down to check out your chest?"

  Shane snorted. "What's there to check out?"

  "So they pay attention to what you're saying. You can have a real conversation with them. You think I can do that? Especially in my business?

  "I love the work, but sometimes I hate going into body shops for the first time. The guys take one look at me and think I'm an easy mark…that I'll never catch on to their inflated damage estimates. I can almost see the dollar signs in their eyes when I introduce myself." She laughed. "But there is the fun of watching their faces as I go over the vehicle and pick apart their estimate, item by item. I have to admit I get some grudging respect from them after that. But I also know that as soon as I leave, they'll be joking about throwing me over a fender and fucking me."

  Shane blushed at the vulgarity.

  "Sorry. I know you don't like that. It just slipped out."

  "That's okay. But I really had no idea about, well, any of it."

  They chatted for a while longer, until Gail returned. She was wearing a short black skirt and scoop-neck top.

  "Wow!" Shane said. "You look hot! Malcolm's going to love you in that."

  "Who's Malcolm?" Carol asked at the same moment Gail asked, "How do you know Malcolm?" />
  "I sort of met him in the hall this morning when I was going to take a shower."

  "Who's Malcolm?" Carol repeated.

  "He's a salesman for one of our suppliers. We went out a few times, and last night he picked me up after work and we went into Boston dancing and then we came back here. You were gone before we got up."

  "Well, well! Why didn't you tell me he'd be with us tonight?"

  "Because he won't be. He's okay, but…" She glanced over at Shane. "…we really didn't click in bed. He's one of those guys who thinks slipping me some tongue and pinching my nipples a few times is foreplay."

  Shane colored a bit, but just sat and listened while Carol clucked her sympathy. "You could teach the guy, you know."

  "I know. But geez, how does a guy get to be twenty-seven years old and not know his way around down there. Besides, he wasn't all that funny, and he wasn't all that crazy about R&B."

  Both Shane and Carol knew that not loving rhythm & blues was the kiss of death for any guy's chances with Gail.

  "Are you sure you won't come with us?" Gail asked. "What if we have a no-guys night? It'll be just the three of us. We'll have some drinks, listen to some music, and just have a girls' night."

  "Sure," said Carol, "that's a great idea. Come on, Shane. It'll be fun."

  "Really? Just us?"

  "Absolutely. You've been here almost four months and we've never gone out just the three of us," Gail said. "I think it's about time."

  Shane was smiling now. "Well…okay. Just give me a few minutes to change." She jumped up and hurried down the hall to her bedroom.

  Carol watched her go. Why have I never noticed how different she looks when she smiles? Have I ever seen her smile before? I must have, but if I did, it never made an impression. Or maybe I just never paid attention. She stood and smoothed her skirt. This girls' night is a good idea. It's time we got to know more about our Miss Devlin.

  8:12 PM

  Mark pushed around the papers on his desk, searching for the Northern Exposure bookmark Suzy gave him long ago. He was a big fan of the original series and lapped up reruns for years after. Late one afternoon, Suzy returned from the mall with a mischievous smile. She told him he could either have a kiss or what was behind her back. Mark was no fool. He opted for the kiss, which turned into an evening of lovemaking so amazing he completely forgot about what might have been in her hand. When he awakened the next morning, he found on his nightstand the bookmark, with a freshly-tied blue ribbon around it.

  He was about to start cursing when he mumbled, "Oh, what a dope" and turned around to find it on the table behind him, right where he put it three hours before so it would not get lost in the shuffle of papers on his desk.

  He leaned back and put his feet up. I wonder if such forgetfulness could be a sign of early senility. His soft chuckle was interrupted by the phone.

  "Hey, buddy, how's it going?"

  "I knew it had to be you, Deek. You're the only one who calls after eight."

  "Hey, I just got home from the shop. Haven't even kissed my wife yet."

  Dikran Bedrosian, one of Mark's two best friends, lived across the street from Mark when they were kids. These days, he made his home in San Diego, where he operated a network installation business.

  Five years ago, after almost seven years of trying, he finally convinced his college sweetheart and longtime roommate, Brooke, to marry him so they could start a family. And start they did. Justin, their oldest, was born ten months after the wedding. Fourteen months later, Shannon came along.

  "If you haven't kissed Brooke yet, she's either out or has finally come to her senses and dumped your sorry ass."

  Deek laughed. Before they were married, Brooke would regularly threaten to dump him every time he went more than a day without making love to her. Now, with two kids tiring her out and a thriving business keeping him busy, he only heard the threat if he let a week go by.

  "She and the kids are out back. I figured I'd give you a call before I joined them."

  Despite Mark's protestations about having too much research to do for his next book, Deek spent the next ten minutes trying to convince him to fly out for a visit.

  "You know it's been, what, a year and a half since you've been out here. I'm starting to forget what your ugly face looks like."

  "I know, I know."

  Four years ago, when the love of his life was diagnosed with cancer and chemotherapy caused her hair to fall out, he went to his barber and had his head shaved in a show of sympathy and solidarity. When he returned home that day, and Suzy got her first look at her newly bald husband, she collapsed with laughter. Then, as he knelt in front of her chair, her laughs turned to tears—tears of love for his sweet gesture, tears of hate for the disease that made it necessary, and tears of frustration at her helplessness.

  She fought valiantly through five rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, but the cancer would not give in. When her chance of recovery became so slim even she lost hope, she simply said, "enough" and went home to prepare for the end.

  Mark was by her side every day for nearly four months, holding her, loving and comforting her, cheering her as best he could until the night she woke him just before four AM and told him it was time. He begged her not to let go, prayed for just a few more days, a few more hours with her, and cried with her as they whispered their love and their final good-byes. Then, with tears streaming down his face, he held her close as she closed her eyes for the last time.

  Now, almost two years later, Mark's heart broke anew each morning when he awakened and realized his Suzy was not next to him.

  His world began to contract the day he buried the woman who came to define happiness for him. Slowly, but persistently, he withdrew from friends and situations that reminded him of the ten wonderful years he shared with her, until all who remained were his two oldest friends, friends who, despite the distance between them, would not give up on him no matter what.

  His world became his study, the grocery and a few other stores, and the library, where he did much of his research, and where he would occasionally borrow an old movie, usually one Suzy loved to watch.

  He knew his life was unhealthy, but could not muster the ambition to do anything about it. At least twice a week he told himself that one day soon, he would clean out the closets and drawers where all of Suzy's stuff sat untouched, exactly as it was the day she died.

  Mark's last trip west was just four months after Suzy passed. He had enough of everyone's well-meant, but constant consolation and inquiries about how he was doing and how he was feeling and what a tragedy it was. He hoped Deek and Brooke would be able to just let him be for a few days, but they knew he was devastated by Suzy's death and could not help being solicitous.

  Five days after arriving, Mark had to get away. He bought a cheap, old, used car and spent three weeks driving home. He desperately needed to be alone, but also to be with strangers, people who would not feel sorry for him, who would treat him like any other guy, like a guy without a gaping hole in his heart, a guy who had not lost the love of his life. The road trip was just what he needed.

  Not only did the time alone allow him to begin healing, he found the subject of his next book in a little town in Indiana. He never did learn the name of the place, but when he drove through what passed for the center of town, he was captivated by a large public green with three beautiful footbridges spanning the small stream that gurgled its way from a small pond on one side to a larger pond on the other. He spent several hours sketching the bridges, walking around in the sunshine, and lazing on the grass watching the children play.

  "Maybe in the fall," he told Deek. "Maybe we can get Greg out there, too, and the three of us can take off for a few days. Maybe hit wine country or go out to Death Valley."

  Gregory Maldonado was the third point on the friendship triangle that actually began with a triangle. When they were kids, Greg lived two doors down from Deek, and it was he who, at age eleven, displayed a bit of his budding s
kill at engineering when he recognized that the front doors of their three houses were located on the points of a equilateral triangle. A chemical engineer, he lived in Carroll, Ohio with his wife, Elaine, and their four children.

  "Are you serious? That'd be great! You think he could get the time off?"

  "A better question would be, can he convince Laney to let him go?"

  "Hell, he can bring her with him. The kids, too. They can stay here with Brooke and the kids. It'll be fun."

  It was Mark's turn to laugh. "Oh yeah? Well you better make sure Brooke thinks it'll be fun before you go inviting them. If you don't, she may do worse than throw you out. She may cut you off!"

  9:41 PM

  "Thank you very much," Leon Roberts said to the audience, acknowledging their wildly enthusiastic applause. "We'll be back in a few minutes, so don't go away."

  Shane, Gail, and Carol sat around a small table. Shane was the last to stop clapping.

  "They are so good!" she gushed, two strawberry margaritas having overcome some of her shyness. "Thank you for getting me here tonight. I really am having fun. It's been a long time since I went to a club. And thank you for keeping it a girls' night. I mean, I knew you guys were popular, but I never imagined what it was like for you."

  All night, guys stopped by their table, always with some line directed at Carol, Gail, or both. As Shane predicted, none of the guys even noticed her, or if they did, they did not think it necessary to acknowledge her.

  After a while, Carol noticed it, too, and found herself feeling terrible about it. It must be awful to be ignored like that. All these years, I thought I had it bad having to put up with guys hitting on me all the time. What must it be like to never have a guy pay attention to you? She shuddered just the slightest bit.