NaNoWriMo – Day 22 (11/22/2005)
He nods again but doesn’t say anything. He just keeps picking away at his food, which has ceased to be a sandwich any longer. It’s just a pile of bread and beef and dip, with some french fries thrown in for good measure.
“Can I get you guys anything else?” the waitress asks us.
“A couple more coffees, please,” he asks around a mouthful of food. “Thanks.”
“Comin right up.”
“What time is it, do you know?” he asks me. “I don’t wear a watch.”
I pull my sleeve back and am surprised to see how much time as gone by. “It’s almost three o’clock,” I tell him. His eyes widen in surprise.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Yea,” I smile, “or when you’re lamenting your life over a cup of coffee with a near stranger.”
“Hrm … yes, then too.”
The waitress arrives with the coffees and puts them down in front of us with some fresh creamers. I reach for the sugar and pour about four teaspoons in, then add three of the creamers. It’s my coffee ritual—I can’t drink it any other way. Simon, on the other hand, takes a sip immediately.
“Black, no sugar?” I ask. “That can’t taste good at all!”
“Delicious,” he says, smacking his lips loudly. “Absolutely delicious. What I don’t understand is why you bother to pay for coffee at all. All you need to do is order a cup of steaming water, load on the sugar and cream, and away you go.”
We laugh together and it’s an easy laugh, like we’ve been friends for ages. Like we’ve been through the ups and downs of life together and know what the other is thinking and feeling.
“I wish I could talk and laugh and share with Vanessa the way I can with you.” He feels it too.
“I wish you’d stop talking about Vanessa …” He’s a little taken aback. Maybe he’s not as ‘with it’ as I thought. “I’m sorry, Simon. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s hard for me, too, you know. You’re a really great guy who showed up in my life at a time when really great guys are pretty hard to come by. I know you’re married, and I know you’ve got your own problems and things to deal with … I just wish you wouldn’t keep reminding me about it. It would be easier if I could just keep on pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“Oh come on Simon, are you really that dense?”
“Apparently I am. What do you mean, Sara?”
“I mean, that if you weren’t married, maybe something might happen … with us. You know, together? Oh forget it.”
He reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine this time, but I pull my hand from under his and he slowly drags it back across the table.
“Look, Sara. I’m sorry that things are the way they are too—at least sometimes. I know it’s not always the best way to look at life, but that’s the way it is occasionally. When I saw you on the bus this morning I never thought we’d be sitting here. When I offered to help you find a job or give you a place to stay, I never actually thought you would call me and ask for my help. But I wished that you would. Is that cheating on my wife? I don’t know the answer to that, to be honest. Would she think I was cheating on her if she knew I was here with you right now? Probably … and maybe I am in a way. If things were different Sara, who knows what might happen, but they’re not. They’re exactly the way that they are and there’s nothing we can do to change that. At least not to change the way they are right now. All we can do is to change they way they might be tomorrow by acting today. It’s our actions that create movement, create change. But I am not going to have an affair while I’m still married to Vanessa. That wouldn’t be fair to her—or to you.”
I’m suddenly very angry. Angry at him, at me, at the whole messed up world.
“I don’t want you to cheat on your wife, Simon. And yet I do, at the same time. I know it’s not right, but I don’t really care. I like you. I think you’re a nice guy—a good-looking guy—who could be good for me. And I think I could be good for you, too. Does that mean we’re going to get married? Probably not. I’m not a stupid girl even though I’ve done some stupid things in my life. Does that mean you’re going to leave Vanessa? Probably not, even though I’m pretty sure you should. I’m pretty sure you know it, too. I don’t expect anything from you, Simon, and maybe that’s my problem. I don’t expect anything from anyone … so guess what I end up with in the end. Nothing.”
Today’s word count: 845
Cumulative word count: 34,776
“Can I get you guys anything else?” the waitress asks us.
“A couple more coffees, please,” he asks around a mouthful of food. “Thanks.”
“Comin right up.”
“What time is it, do you know?” he asks me. “I don’t wear a watch.”
I pull my sleeve back and am surprised to see how much time as gone by. “It’s almost three o’clock,” I tell him. His eyes widen in surprise.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Yea,” I smile, “or when you’re lamenting your life over a cup of coffee with a near stranger.”
“Hrm … yes, then too.”
The waitress arrives with the coffees and puts them down in front of us with some fresh creamers. I reach for the sugar and pour about four teaspoons in, then add three of the creamers. It’s my coffee ritual—I can’t drink it any other way. Simon, on the other hand, takes a sip immediately.
“Black, no sugar?” I ask. “That can’t taste good at all!”
“Delicious,” he says, smacking his lips loudly. “Absolutely delicious. What I don’t understand is why you bother to pay for coffee at all. All you need to do is order a cup of steaming water, load on the sugar and cream, and away you go.”
We laugh together and it’s an easy laugh, like we’ve been friends for ages. Like we’ve been through the ups and downs of life together and know what the other is thinking and feeling.
“I wish I could talk and laugh and share with Vanessa the way I can with you.” He feels it too.
“I wish you’d stop talking about Vanessa …” He’s a little taken aback. Maybe he’s not as ‘with it’ as I thought. “I’m sorry, Simon. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s hard for me, too, you know. You’re a really great guy who showed up in my life at a time when really great guys are pretty hard to come by. I know you’re married, and I know you’ve got your own problems and things to deal with … I just wish you wouldn’t keep reminding me about it. It would be easier if I could just keep on pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“Oh come on Simon, are you really that dense?”
“Apparently I am. What do you mean, Sara?”
“I mean, that if you weren’t married, maybe something might happen … with us. You know, together? Oh forget it.”
He reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine this time, but I pull my hand from under his and he slowly drags it back across the table.
“Look, Sara. I’m sorry that things are the way they are too—at least sometimes. I know it’s not always the best way to look at life, but that’s the way it is occasionally. When I saw you on the bus this morning I never thought we’d be sitting here. When I offered to help you find a job or give you a place to stay, I never actually thought you would call me and ask for my help. But I wished that you would. Is that cheating on my wife? I don’t know the answer to that, to be honest. Would she think I was cheating on her if she knew I was here with you right now? Probably … and maybe I am in a way. If things were different Sara, who knows what might happen, but they’re not. They’re exactly the way that they are and there’s nothing we can do to change that. At least not to change the way they are right now. All we can do is to change they way they might be tomorrow by acting today. It’s our actions that create movement, create change. But I am not going to have an affair while I’m still married to Vanessa. That wouldn’t be fair to her—or to you.”
I’m suddenly very angry. Angry at him, at me, at the whole messed up world.
“I don’t want you to cheat on your wife, Simon. And yet I do, at the same time. I know it’s not right, but I don’t really care. I like you. I think you’re a nice guy—a good-looking guy—who could be good for me. And I think I could be good for you, too. Does that mean we’re going to get married? Probably not. I’m not a stupid girl even though I’ve done some stupid things in my life. Does that mean you’re going to leave Vanessa? Probably not, even though I’m pretty sure you should. I’m pretty sure you know it, too. I don’t expect anything from you, Simon, and maybe that’s my problem. I don’t expect anything from anyone … so guess what I end up with in the end. Nothing.”
Today’s word count: 845
Cumulative word count: 34,776
posted by Paul Keetch at 11:28 PM
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