Cafe-Girl: A Girl Conquers World Novella

CAFE GIRL

A Novella

by

Lia Rose Dugal

The misty rain poured hard upon Matthew as he left his house that early morning for the coffee shop. It wasn't a hard soaking rain but a gently falling mist that would still leave his clothes dew-drenched and damp upon reaching his destination and perhaps through the whole morning. He pulled his wool beret down over his ears and pulled his sweater down around his hands, then set off on his bouncy walk towards his place of work, his knapsack swinging by his side.

Today felt like any other morning in the last year, the weather may change from the blaring hot sun of summer to the many colored leaf-strewn pavement of the Fall to the misty wetness of early winter, that he had been working at the coffee shop. Every day the same, really, because most of the time he was the opener of the small coffee shop that resided on a side-street down the street from the main drag of his small town, the town of which he had grown up. Most of the other small staff, the two new girls that were recent hired, were not amicable to working the morning shift so off he went to do the usual day, the setting up of the tables and chairs, the baking of the muffins which were such a major draw to his regulars, roasting the coffee, etc etc etc. The music on the cd player always skipped and he'd spend most of the morning jumping to get it unstuck. Maybe that wasn't the best idea for the cds, since there was such a limited variety, but he was so tired of having to dust them off, clean them, etc etc etc. Sometimes he put on the local NPR station, but usually once the customers came in, they found that distracting.

When he reached the coffee shop, he unlocked the backdoor with a reluctant sigh, stamping out his cigarette in the sand-bucket provided on the back step for employees that smoked, well, just him. He was grateful for the newly hired new girls, not just because they were cute, but because he didn't have to pull so many double shifts, him and his boss, Tom, sometimes the only two faithful devotees to the Soul Cafe besides the smattering few customers who came daily, his now friends.

He gazed around at the small one room cafe, a charm singular to a few folks. A few of the “hippie” folk, more obscure than those “hippies” who frequented Garo's, the main street alternative-style coffee shop. These were his friends, he'd grown up with the majority of them, and they had a style all their own, a way of looking at life understood by the main population, of which they all provided themselves upon.

As he gazed around at the tiny coffee shop, the tables in various places, a few by the windows, a few lined up against the walls, a computer, a bookshelf, the bar where the cream was kept, the refridgerator for the other drinks for non-coffee drinkers, the counter, his home base while at work, and the fireplace. He sighed. Another added job for today was starting a fire in there, the day was just cool enough. He sighed, removing his sweater and beret, to reveal his curly short red hair and shaking the dew off, he moved into the kitchen, hanging his coat and hat in the provided employee location. Now, to start the muffins.

Maybe today, he thought, maybe today something extraordinary will happen, well, at least out of the ordinary.

The morning dragged on. A few customers came in, two ordered and left, one walked in, looked around, asked if they made 'frappacinos', to which he sarcastically replied with a smile, “You want Starbucks up the street.” Off the went! Usually he could spot those types before they even entered the coffee shop and he would use his jedi mind tricks, waving his hand a la Obiwan and saying “this is not the coffee shop you are looking for”, and then they'd abruptly turn even before opening the door. There is power in the barista!

He leaned against the wall behind the counter, staring straight ahead, waiting....waiting....for what? His shift to end, another customer, his friends to get their lazy asses out of their bed and come amuse him. Chopin played on in the background. What he did not expect, then happened.

She walked in. She wasn't really anything unusual or even special at the time. Lots of cute girls came in, but there was something that stood out to him about her, specifically. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but nevertheless he felt a draw towards her. She approached the counter and looked at him, yes, really looked. Her eyes, full of warmth and acceptance, looked into his and she smiled. He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. This wasn't so unusual, if anyone else was around to see him, he often flirted with the female customers, of all ages, well almost, because...yeah, better tips!

“Um, hi,” the girl said at last, with a giggle in her throat.

“Hey there,” he smiled back. “What can I do for you?”

This was his usual request when a pretty girl approached the counter, as opposed to the male customers, “What can I get for you?”

The girl smiled up at him, her dark shoulder-length hair falling over her face. She pushed it back and looked at him, biting her lip, nervously.

“I'd like...a...pound of coffee or something,” she breathed out.

“A pound of coffee or something?” he asked furtively.

“Well, its a birthday present for my room-mate, she likes coffee, not me,” the girl explained.

“Oh, we'll have to remedy that,” Matthew smiled. “What does she like, dark or medium?”

“Excuse me?”

“Its the style of roast,” Matthew explained slowly.

“What do you like?” She asked, her eyes gazing up at him, imploringly. Ah, there it was, the draw towards her pulling him stronger and perhaps his first in, help the damsel in distress as it were.

“Oh, I'm partial to the Moka Java myself,” he said flirtatiously.

“I'll have a pound of that then,” she flirted back. He turned to pour the coffee beans into the brown paper bag. He looked at her over his glasses, waiting, and then he finally said,

“So, what's your name?”

“Oh, sorry, I'm Deborah,” she responded quickly. “And you?”

“Matt,” he smiled at her.

“Hello Matt,” she said with a delicious smile tossed his way. He smiled back and set the coffee bean bag on the counter before her. “How much?”

He looked at her, confused for a moment, and then realized she was referring to the bag. So pulled towards her, he had momentarily forgotten everything around him. Maybe he was just horny, it had been awhile after all, but no...there was something more about this girl.

“It's 12.99,” he replied. “You get a free 12 oz cup of coffee with that, if you'd like.”

“I don't know, I am not really a coffee person, I don't really partake,” she began.

“We'll have to change that, as I said,” he interjected.

“Is that part of your evil plan to take over the world? Convert the world to coffee?”

“I am a barista after all,” he smiled down at her. She bit her lip again under the weight of his stare and he so wanted to kiss those pink lips.

“Oh, I get it, like a drug pusher or something, only legal?” she continued the thread.

“Something like that,” he threw back at her. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, the coffee, you want it?” he asked.

“Well, I'm not much of a coffee drinker, as I said, too bitter, well I used to be, I spent a semester abroad in Italy and they know coffee, but then when I came back it really didn't measure up so I gave it up, you know,” she rambled on in an unnecessary explanation.

“Yeah, well I aim to show you American coffee can be good,” he said flirtatiously.

“Or at least American baristas!” she blurted out.

“What?” he asked surprised. She blushed under his gaze and looked away. Quickly he said, “You know what? I'll make you a cappucino, on the house, all right? It will be a good introduction.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, still not meeting his gaze, her face still red. She laid a twenty dollar bill on the counter and waited while he made the drink.

“So, you are a student?” he asked, really wanting to know.

“Just graduated, actually, you?”

“No, not really, I mean, a student of life, I guess,” he stumbled out, fumbling with the cash register he'd used a million times but now in his embarrassment for his lack of a life against her accomplishments he seemed to forget. His loss loomed up in front of him, what could she possibly want with him?

“That's awesome,” she said, and he noticed not condescendingly. “I wish I did that, so are you from around here?”

“Yeah, born and raised,” he seemed to relax with her encouragement.

“So you are a townie?” she said excitedly. “My first townie!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he laughed and she joined him. They shared a moment. He handed her change over to her, she placed it in her wallet.

“So now what?” she said looking at him, expectantly. What did she want? How could he keep her here a little longer?

“Taste it,” he smiled at her, motioning towards the cup on the counter. She looked down at it and placed her hands around the warm mug.

“Oh, I love the design,” she smiled up at him.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said gratefully. “Sometimes I read the fortunes in the lattes.”

“Lattes? But this isn't a latte,” she said, truthfully. “Could you still show me what it means?”

“Well, I guess just this once,” he smiled at her and moved his hand over to the mug, his fingers touching hers. “Ah, I see.”

“What?” she wanted to know as she looked at the drink, then at him, then at the drink, then back at him. “What do you see?”

“Well, its difficult to explain but I can say you are in for a real treat here,” he began. “And not just the drink, an adventure is about to begin.”

“What do I do?” she breathed out, playing along with his role-playing of the barista/fortune teller.

“I can only advise that you taste it and enjoy for all its worth,” he smiled at her, knowingly, daring her. She reached for the cup, her fingers trailing along his hand as she picked it up and he moved his hands away. She tasted, took a big sip, and then smiled up at him, happily.

“Mmmm, delicious,” she said at last.

“And, that is just the beginning,” he explained. “Keep going.”

“There's more!” she finally said, after another drink.

“Just wait and see,” he said, flirtatiously. “Just wait and see.”

“I could say the same to you,” she said, holding the mug just in front of her mouth and smiling over it. “Not to busy today.”

“Yeah, it can be slow,” he said.

“Want to join me on the deck?” she asked, biting her lip behind the mug.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he smiled. She moved towards the door and he stopped her with, “You don't mind if I smoke, do you?”

“No, no, that's fine,” she nodded and moved out of the door. He watched her set the mug down at the one patio table and sit near the window. He saw her take a deep breath and then smile expectantly, and a smile twitched at his lips. I've got an in here, he thought hopefully.

The Saturday morning early winter air filtered through the half open window. Deborah stared out at the grey skies and stretched. No work today, no running around chasing little toddler kids while she wondered what she wanted to do with her life. Maybe instead she will have time to catch up on her reading, her writing...maybe head to a certain coffee shop and see...him.

It had been a few weeks since their meeting, she'd popped into see him but the shop had been busy, in flux of last minute tourists riding on the coat-tails of the ending season, seeing the final theatre shows and buying up the last minute touristy store items. Anna was so glad she was no longer working at that boutique down-town.

Yes, Matt had been busy lately. One of the new girls had recently up and quit and he was left filling in the gaps. When he wasn't busy, he was sitting outside on the small patio, crowded together with a wide assortment of his guy friends, a guy who always wore a suit, an older hippie man, a tall lanky fellow with dark floppy hair, and the one who always wore black and hunched over his coffee, brooding, seemingly. Anna always wanted to join them, wasn't sure what to say, but she'd always wanted to be one of those sorts people who hung out at coffee shops, the edgy sort. The kind that sat and stared at their dark coffee, talking about all sorts of dark things, intellectual things, and the like. There was that one brooding dark guy that sat on the porch with Matt and his friends, she was both afraid of him and intrigued by him. She was also nervous to join them all on the patio because she was still not sure if Matt liked her, although she suspected she did, knew she did. That was pretty clear to her now. But, what if he didn't feel the same but saw her as another nice customer or something? How did this thing work? She could never figure out the dating game, as it were.

Having recently gotten out of an extremely bad three year relationship, Deborah was still reeling from the after effects. Could she trust another guy? Could she trust herself to fall in love again? Did she even want to? Her best friend, Mari, who was a devout Christian was adamantly husband hunting. They had to find husbands, in fact, that was the sole purpose of looking for a man, to bed him and wed him. Well, maybe not the bedding part according to Mari, however, Deborah knew that Mari was not a virgin, rather a self proclaimed born again virgin, born again and again and again and again...

Mari had taken Deborah to church a few times. She wasn't sure what she thought of all of that. Mari had taken her under the rouse that she needed to find the Lord, although Mari didn't out and out say that, but Deborah could tell. She also watched as Mari anxiously flirted with all the young eligible bachelors at the church, even there devout in her sole purpose to marry, no other goal in sight. Deborah thought that the church setting was almost as bad as the nightclub setting, just couched in some form of Christian safety net.

If everyone in the whole world, just in different circles, was telling her how to date, how to fall in love, who to date, who to fall in love with, and how, when, who to marry, then why was she still confused? Why hadn't any of it worked yet? Maybe that was really the point of it. Love was undefinable, unexplainable, it existed but was elusive at times, and always uncontrollable.

She pulled her journal out of her near by backpack, a pen tucked inside from where she had stopped writing the night before, and started pouring out these thoughts on the paper. She wrote and wrote feverishly pouring out every last drop of concern, worry, even desire...until her soul felt satisfied and she threw down the pen to get ready...ready to make her way to the coffee shop.

At the coffee shop, Matt stood on the patio, alone at present, smoking a cigarette and sipping his third espresso of the day, looking anxiously up the street, waiting, hoping that she would come. His friend, Stephan, already dressed in his suit for work, approached.

“Waiting for something, Matt?” Stephan asked.

“Not really,” Matt shook himself. “Get you something? The usual?”

“Yeah, to go please,” Stephan went on. “I've got to get to work.”

They both moved into the coffee shop. There was a smattering of customers sitting about the various tables, engrossed in their lives, one was reading a book, the other the paper, and one was just staring dumbly out the window, lost in thought. Matt handed Thomas his steamy black cup of coffee in a go-cup and Thomas laid three dollars on the counter. Matt snatched it up, ran it through the cash register, and handed Thomas his change, which he tossed into the tip jar.

“Thanks, man,” Matt said. Thomas shook it off and moved over to pour some cream into the cup.

“Got to cool it down,” he explained, without reason.

“Yeah, of course,” and Matt started to move out to the patio, following his friend, but a new customer entered the store. She asked for a frappucino and Matthew inwardly groaned and Thomas said,

“Yeah, you want Starbucks up the street!”

“Oh, thanks,” she said and turned, quickly leaving. Matt and Thomas looked at each and rolled their eyes.

“Tourists,” Thomas said.

“Right,” Matt agreed and they headed out on the patio. Matt sat down at the table while Thomas waved and headed for his day at work, just beginning. Matt had only a few hours left before the one remaining girl started her shift. His best friend, aptly known as Shaggy because he greatly resembled the cartoon character rambled up, followed by the coffee shop's very own old man hippie, Ray.

“Hey guys,” he said in greeting and he put down his still unlit cigarette and followed them into the coffee shop, with his cup to get a refill as well.

A few minutes later, he saw his friend, James, the new guy in the group, heading down the street towards the coffee shop. His long black hair falling over his face and his eyes dark. His black clothes and long trench coats were not the only thing that gave Matt the willies, actually he couldn't put his finger on what it was about James that seemed odd. I mean, all his friends were a bit off so he really didn't pay much attention to it. He knew James had just recently divorced his wife, James talked about it and how crazy his ex was a lot. A lot more than Matt did and he too had recently gotten the dump.

James entered the coffee shop and he passed out the morning cup of joe and muffins to each of his friends. James headed quickly out to the patio and sat in the chair Matt had recently vacated, facing the street. Ray and Shaggy lingered around the counter with the milk before Shaggy headed over to the computer.

“I found something online last night,” Shaggy explained, calling up the internet. “Something very suspicious, wanted to show you guys. That okay?”

Matt looked over at his friend. This conspiracy theory fascination was new and not how he had been since high school. So too was his express desire to be known only as Shaggy, 'the better to hide from the government', he had explained. Matt worried about his friend and truly hoped this was a passing fancy.

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said and came around to stand behind Shaggy at the computer. Ray stood on his other side and both leaned over to see the web-page detailing some crazy government cover-up Shaggy was so convinced was real.

Meanwhile, Deborah, adorned in European style clothes complete with black pea coat and warm scarf, neared the coffee shop. On the patio, she saw James sitting alone and she hesitated at the steps to the coffee shop.

She looked up at him, biting her lip, in anxiety and intrigue, and said, “Hi.”

“Hello,” was all he said. And, then Deborah quickly passed into the coffee shop to find Matt huddled over the computer with his other friends, engrossed in some website or something.

“Hi, can I get some service here?” She called out, laughingly.

Matt turned and looked over at her. A big smile spread across his face and he headed towards her, happily, bouncing in his familiar walk. And, he hugged her. Surprised, she put her arms around him. They awkwardly pulled away from each other, somewhat reluctantly.

“How are you?” Matt asked, looking at his feet. “Another cappucino?”

“Yeah, I'd love one,” she smiled. “And I'll even pay.”

Matt moved behind the counter and started making her drink. She pulled five dollars out of her wallet and waited.

“So, how have you been?” she wanted to know.

“Eh, didn't sleep well last night,” was all Matt said while he concentrated.

“Yeah, sorry to hear that,” Deborah was really concerned.

“Not really been sleeping the last few nights, actually,” he explained. “Stupid insomnia.”

Deborah cocked her head to one side and thought. Her mind raced as an idea sprang into her head. Should she or shouldn't she? Meanwhile, Matt finished her cappucino and set it on the counter before her. She handed him the five and he rang up the amount in the cash register. She moved over, grabbing a napkin from the counter with the milk, and before she lost her nerve, jotted down her name and phone number on it. She moved over to him and as he handed her his change she said, nervously,

“Here's my phone number, if you want to call me when you can't sleep,” she said and held out the napkin to her. He smiled down at her and handed her the change. She took the change and smiled her good-bye and left, passing the patio with now three of his friends, the old hippie one, the tall lanky guy, and the scary dark boy.

A few minutes after she left, Matt crossed down to the patio, with his refilled mug in hand. Still holding the napkin, he held it up to his friends.

“She gave me her phone number!” he exclaimed.

“Nice,” said James yet Matt thought he heard a hint of jealousy in it. Yet he shook it off. This was good news and nothing was going to damper his happy moment.

Deborah walked down the street, grinning broadly. She had done it and now she waited to see if he actually called. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it, as if he would call right then and there. She knew she had to wait, he was at work and who knew what he was doing after work, what he had to do, or if...she gasped...what if he already had a girlfriend or liked someone else? Her heart broke a little inside, shame spread over her face. What if she just made a complete and utter fool of herself. She could never ever go back to that coffee shop, never. She couldn't face him or his friends. A pang of disappointment consumed her as she made her way home.

Deborah placed her cell phone smack dab in the center of her unmade bed. She stared down at it, willing it to ring, and when nothing happened she flipped it over, disgruntled and sat heavily upon the floor of her rented bedroom. She leaned against the bed and hung her head. Her go-cup coffee that she had purchased from Matt just a half an hour before, but which seemed like millions of eons ago, sat dejectedly on her chest of drawers, getting cold. She stared at it, willing it to float over towards her, so she wouldn't have to rise from her slumped position, depression stretching inward upon her like a familiar yet unkind friend.

Suddenly, the phone rang. She leaped up, almost as if her whole body rose into the air, and reached for it. The number was unknown, as in not listed in her friends, but the area code was familiar. Her heart raced as she pressed the button to answer.

“Hello?” she called out. “Hello? Hello?”

But, no answer came. “Is anyone there? Who is this?” she implored more forcefully, with a little bit of spice. “Stop clogging up my phone by calling and calling!” And, she hung up with a ferocity and threw the phone across the room, it rickocheted off the dresser, knocking the coffee cup over, and fell to the floor as the cappucino liquid slipped down her dresser to the carpet below waiting to be stained Was this a sign of something? Some signal, a truth, of things to come, of her pouring her life and heart away on some guy who would not come through yet again. She sighed and moved to right the coffee cup and begin the process of soaking up the liquid before it stained, wiping the drips off the dresser. It was probably just her crazy ex-boyfriend after all. God! She groaned. Won't he ever ever leave her alone?

In the coffee shop, Matt, however, was not trying to avoid calling her or laughing over her goof of thinking his flirtations were anything more than a barista trying to garner some tips, but was being simultanously distracted by the conspiracy ravings of Shaggy, the mixed rants of conspiracy and crazy ex of James, and Ray's urging that once he get off work they go get some beer and begin their version of “church”, rather where they all hike as far as they can go into the surrounding mountains, sip their 40s, smoke joints, and sort of meditate, sort of explore where ever they are led. Inwardly, he was hoping for one moment of peace between all this to call Deborah,to hear her sweet voice, hear her laughing jokes echoing his back to him with mirth and merriment.

“9-11 was an inside job,” Shaggy was exclaiming. “Bush and the CIA, Daddy Bush, planned the whole thing in order to make the masses feel fear and vulnerable, in order to keep us under their control--

“My ex made me feel vulnerable,” James mumbled and when they all swung around to look at him, he added, “She was a crazy bitch, slept with everyone in town, right?”

They nodded. They'd heard the story what seemed like a thousand times a day it seemed. Sometimes James seemed like a broken record, begging for anyone to listen, to feel some sort of pity for him. Matt wondered about him, sometimes. He himself had left a crazy ex that had in fact cheated on him numorous times but recently he had found peace with her and moved on. And, James it seemed, after discovering the likeness of his story with Matt's, wouldn't let it go. Matt wondered why but couldn't ascertain the answer to that question. He shook it off yet again, hoping James would find the peace and answers on his own someday.

Ray was pulling at his shirtsleeves, metaphorically, like an anxious young child, wanting to know “are we there yet? are we there yet?” Matt looked at his funny friend, long straggly reddish-auburn hair, gnatted with dreads scattered about the threads of his hair, a nose red and large from too much of the drink, a frail build from living the hard life, too many drugs, not enough good food, a ski-cap propped upon the top of his head, and grinned at Ray.

“Hey, Ray,” Matt began. “Has anyone ever told you, you kind of look like a lawn gnome?”

Shaggy and James looked over at their friend, Ray and nodded, laughing.

“Yeah, you do,” joined in Shaggy. “But you are tall so like, king of the lawn gnomes!”

They all laughed mirthfully.

“King of the lawn gnomes!” They all cheered and the three of them bowed to Ray, who extended his hand in deference and approval. It was right then that Barbara, the remaining new girl, walked up and stared confusedly at their actions before her.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed. “What the hell is going on?”

“What the hell does he look like?” exclaimed James right back, and Matt cringed. Sometimes James seemed harsh to women, he didn't know why.

“Um, Ray,” Barbara said, slightly wincing and moving towards the door. Matt leaned into her and whispered in her ear, 'Lawn gnome', she turned back and looked Ray over.

“Oh my god, yeah,” she laughed.

“He's the king of the lawn gnomes,” explained Shaggy.

“Bow down!” commanded Ray and Barbara gave him a little curtsy. She hurried into the coffee shop to finish her shift and Matt followed her to officially clock out.

“Not to busy today?” Barbara asked, turning to him, with a smile. He smiled back, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn't too attracted to this girl, she was a little on the plump side and a little too push when it came to the area of love for his taste, always trying mostly unsuccessfully to push her way into his world, his line of view.

“Nope,” he said. He grabbed his time-card out of his cubby and scribbled out the time. Placing it back, he grabbed his coat, knapsack, and hat, putting it on with a flair of a 1940s movie star, that which he was unaware of the affect he had on the opposite sex. He nodded, hat on head, pulling his jacket on, swinging his knapsack on his shoulder, and turned and walked towards the door towards his awaiting friends.

“All signed out?” asked James. He nodded. Shaggy shook his head and Matt felt an oncoming rant of conspiracy about to spew forth.

“Its just sad that the government, or the forces behind, have us so wrapped up in being a number in order to give us more meaningless numbers in a computer that we use to--”

“Yeah, we get it,” barked out Ray. “Let's get some beer before I start to puke.”

“His majesty has spoken,” said Matt, smiling somewhat apologetically at Shaggy.

They all headed off, following Ray, single-filingly to the nearby minute market.

While his team, his rag-tag friends, busied themselves with the all too important task of picking the right beers for the trek inside, Matt leaned against the outside wall and pulled out his phone and the napkin with Deborah's phone listed on it. He found it interesting that for some odd reason her number seemed to already be in his “outward” calling list, but he did not have any memory calling her. He stared down at his phone, debating inwardly whether he should call her, whether he had the time, what his friends would think of her, if she really liked him, if she was even single. All these questions filled his mind as he stared down at the screen of his cell-phone, the number, for some reason already dialed, before him. The door of the minute market dinged open and Ray exclaimed, “Mission Accomplished!”

Matt slammed his phone shut and stuck it forcefully in his jeans pocket.

“All set?” he set to his somewhat giddy friends. They nodded. “All right, Ray, Your Majesty, lead the way!”

The hike wound them up farther and farther into the forests and wilderness above the city. Matt looked back over his shoulder, over the city that he knew so well, where every corner, every alleyway echoed a memory of so many years, and thought of her, tucked away in some room, some apartment, some home, he knew not where or which, and longed for her. He wondered, he hoped, if they had a chance, if he could finally end this quest to find the one, to end the emptiness of longing for love and understanding. Would it ever end, he wondered, when would he have his happily ever after?

Deborah sat at the table in the restaurant surrounded by her best friend, Mari, across from her and her ex-boyfriend, Brent, who wouldn't leave her alone by her side. They both bowed their heads and prayed before eating their nachos and cokes. Deborah closed her eyes and patiently waited for them to finish. Once they had opened their eyes, Mari looked straight across them and asked in a straightforward inquisitive fashion,

“Are you guys gonna get married?”

At once, Deborah answered “No” while Brent answered “Yes.” There was a long awkward pause as Brent glared over at Deborah who cowered into her coca-cola. Mari looked back and forth between them, feeling apologetical and a bit ashamed for bringing it up. The rest of the meal was spent in silence as they hurriedly ate their meal, unsure of what to say. Off and on, Brent would question her whether she had started up a relationship with that 'coffee boy', the non-christian sinner who worked at the coffee shop she was now frequenting. Deborah again and again said no, which was true, but denied even liking him, even as she reached into her purse and felt over and over to make sure her cell-phone was on and turned up so she could hear incoming calls. It had been a whole day since she had given him her phone number but that seemed like an eternity in her lifetime. Notably, more out of embarrassment and shyness than any kind of flirtatious ploy, she had not ventured down to the coffee shop that day.

They finished their meal and made their way to her car, where Mari piled in the backseat and Brent in the passenger seat. Deborah drove Mari back to her house in the outskirts of town. Brent berated her all the way, about her spiritual walk with Jesus (what?), her duty to him after three years of relationship (even though she had broken it off last summer), and questioned her repeatedly whether she liked this coffee boy (she continously denied even as she pined for Matt's phone call).

At Mari's house, they quickly hurried back to her bedroom, saying a quick hello to Mari's room-mate and her children. Mari asked Brent for a massage, and as she laid on the bed, he climbed on top of her to comply, Brent continuing his barrage of insults towards Deborah in hopes she would comply to his wishes of marriage.

When the massage had ended, Deborah's phone rang. She looked down and recognized the unknown caller from earlier that day. Her heart quickened, could it in fact be him? If so, she'd have to ask him why he didn't...Brent tried to snatch the phone from her hand, she held it firm.

“Is that him?” he spat out.

“Uh, no, no,” she responded quickly.

“Let me talk to him,” came Mari's insistent comment, seemingly from far off. Deborah shook her hand and demanded, “no,” sticking her phone deep down in her pocket.

“Let's get you home, Brent,” was all she said and Mari ushered them out the door.

They parked on the hill down the street from Brent's house. The dark of the night emptied itself around her car, shrouded them in secrecy.

“Please, Deborah, tell me,” he insisted in his best seductive whisper. “Do you like him?”

Deborah shook her head, tears springing to her eyes, fighting them back.

“Do you still love me?” he wanted to know again. Deborah stared straight ahead, not sure of how to answer. “Please answer me,” he insisted.

“I need to get home,” was all she could say. “Early day tomorrow.”

“You are going to call him back, aren't you?” Brent demanded.

“I don't know, Brent, I don't know, okay?” was all she could say, hoping he would get out of the car and leave so she could at last be done with him.

“Well, what are you doing tomorrow?” Brent wanted to know, a tinge of hope springing in his heart.

“What?” Deborah seemed confused and then, “Oh, I don't know...”

“You said you had an early day tomorrow,” Brent started. “You going down to the cafe?”

“Oh, no, I, uh, um, have stuff to do around the house, before work next week,” came Deborah's fumbled reply.

“Yeah, okay,” Brent said, grabbing the door handle. “I'll call you.”

He opened the door and let it slam behind him, moving up the steep hill to his house. Deborah started the engine and let the hill drift down the hill, slowly making her way home, breathing a sigh of relief. She'd avoided that catastrophe at least for tonight.

At her house, she walked quietly into the back bedroom she rented from the couple upstairs. Sitting on her bed, she pulled out her phone and kicking off her shoes and pulling her legs up on her bed, she pressed “call back” on the number that had called a few hours earlier.

“Hello?” came the familiar warm and friendly voice of her cute coffee boy.

“Hi,” Deborah said, a smile on her face and in her voice.

“Oh, hello there,” he breathed a smile of his own. “How are you?”

“Doing well, yourself?” she really wanted to know.

“All right,” he said. “Doing better now.”

Deborah smiled into the phone. She propped up a pillow, and flipped on the lamp by her bed, then got up and turned off the overhead light in the room. Pressing the phone against the ear, she simultanously pulled her pants off, letting them fall to the floor and asked,

“So what did you do today?”

“Had to work a double shift,” came Matthew's reply. “Barbara called in sick.”

“Barbara?”

“The girl that works at the cafe,” Matthew explained. “The only one left besides me, although I think Randy is thinking of re-hiring Thomas, at least part time.”

“Thomas?”

“One of my friends, hangs out with me at the cafe, used to work there before me,” Matthew explained. “Sorry about all the confusion and Randy is the owner.”

“Oh I see,” Deborah was thinking. “Is Thomas the one that always wears a tie or...?”

“Yeah,” Matthew laughed. “Except he doesn't ALWAYS wear a tie, only for work. But nice description, I'll tell him you said that.”

They both laughed.

“So tell me about your other, um, friends,” Deborah continued the conversation.

“From the cafe?” Matthew wanted clarification and confirmation.

“Yeah, them,” was all Deborah confirmed.

“Well, there is Shaggy, knew him in high school, James, who I just met, and Ray, and you know Thomas,” Matthew began. “That's pretty much the regulars although there are a few more that come by from time to time.”

“Okay, so which is which?” Deborah asked. “And Shaggy?”

Matthew laughed and began to explain.

“Yeah, Shaggy is the one that looks like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo,” Matthew said. “When you come in tomorrow, you'll notice him, can't miss him. Crazy hippie conspiracy theorist probably at the computer!”

“Oh, so I'm coming in tomorrow, huh?” Deborah teased.

“Well, I hope so,” Matthew admitted.

“Okay then,” Deborah agreed. “So, then there is, um, Ray, and, um, James and they are--”

“Okay, James is the one that always wears all black and Ray is, well, Ray is the other one,” Matthew explained.

“Okay, I got it, I think,” Deborah said. “So, I've got another question for you.”

“So many questions!”

“Sorry,” Deborah relented.

“No, its okay, I just have a few for you, that's all,” Matthew explained. “Go ahead.”

“I got this phone call yesterday after I left the cafe, from an unknown number, but I think it was yours,” Deborah awkwardly began.

“Yeah, you know, I saw a number had been dialed out from my phone,” Matthew quickly interjected. “I don't know what that was about, I mean, maybe it was a butt dial or maybe one of my friends was playing a practical joke or something. Sorry about that.”

“Its okay,” Deborah. “It was just a little weird, I guess.”

“Yea, sorry,” Matthew apologized again.

“Don't worry about it, its fine,” she said again. “So, what are your questions? What do you want to know?”

“Um, let's see I know you just graduated college, so you are one of those transplant types,” Matthew began and then awkwardly sputtered out, “You seeing anyone?”

“Well, not right now, I'm alone in my room,” Deborah joked. Then, she explained, “Not anymore, I was but we broke up last summer. It's totally over.”

And, that was all the information she would give to him about Brent. He didn't need to know anything more about Brent, as far as Deborah was concerned, no matter what Brent wanted or thought, they were over.

“Yeah, okay, good,” Matthew was relieved. “So, where are you from?”

“Well, I grew up in California but I don't like to admit that,” Deborah laughed into the phone. Matthew joined her. The joke around town was how much the townies and the locals hated Californians, the yuppies that moved into the town and took over completely.

“Well, I won't hold it against you,” Matthew reassured her.

“But you will hold yourself against me,” Deborah inwardly cringed at her forwardness and Matthew laughed,

“If you insist,” he smiled into the phone. “So, you coming into the coffee shop tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I can do that, what time?”

“Well, I'm not working tomorrow,” he began. “So, I thought we could meet and then go for a walk or something, maybe.”

“I'd like that,” Deborah said excitedly.

“How about we meet around 10:30?” he asked hopefully.

“Sounds perfect,” she agreed.

The morning of their first date was exceptionally warm for that mid-November day. Deborah stretched in her bed and stared happily up at the ceiling, the rush of the exhilarition of new love coursing through her veins. She knew the cautionary warnings of her Christian friends, who would tell her that because of his spiritual beliefs he was not worthy enough, nay, capable of a loving relationship. But, the infatuation she felt for him outweighed any dire warnings from any external source. Her heart soared with the expectancy of new love and relationship. Years later, she would look back on this moment with fondness, the moment before anything else, any trouble seeped in. Her older self would look back with the realization that moments like those were to be treasured, that people, regardless of spiritual belief or orientation, were to be honored and cherished, that every person was brought into your life specifically for a unique reason and purpose, that every person could teach you something different than others. But, at that moment, she was only excited for the day ready to unfold, she was only contemplating what to wear and how to make herself look presentable to him, to Matthew, her cute coffee-boy.

In another part of the city, Matt was waking up, with that excitement and expectancy for the pretty girl he would soon spend the day. As he gathered up his morning coffee and cigarette, and made his way to his parents' backyard (the house where he currently resided), his mind was racing with what to do to keep her interested, to impress her. He, too, was busy contemplating what to wear to appear attractive and to keep her interest. He worried that his small frame was unworthy or unattractive in her overall eyes, and that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't all too interested in him for more than a friend. It had been awhile since he'd been single and in the dating game. After all, he had only just broken it off with his girlfriend of 6 years.

Finishing his cigarette, he stumped it out, drained his coffee, and headed into the kitchen, up the stairs into his bathroom. The steam from the hot shower filled the bathroom and fogged up the mirror, he sleepily stared into while he undressed. He ran his hand over his body and down over himself and thought, dreamed of her. The water fell in cascades down his body while he lathered his hair with shampoo, careful to not let it slip into his eyes. In the opposite part of the city, Deborah stood unde the hot stream of water, rinsing the shampoo, also careful to keep it out of her eyes, conditioning her hair, and making the painstakingly focused attempt to remove hair from her legs and under-arms.

Finally, dressed, her in black stretch pants and a black top, with her black wool coat, scarf, and hat, and him in his warm flannel coat, his orange shirt, and his nicest pair of pants, they made their way down town towards the coffee shop. As they stepped out into the world and began their brisk walk, the warm air brought a cool sweat to their faces and before they had gotten very far, they each carried their jacket, hat, scarf in one hand, letting the Fall breeze cool their faces. Before she rounded the corner to the coffee shop, Deborah pulled out a compact to examine her make-up, make sure she wasn't glistening with sweat, and hoping that there wasn't too much of the under-arm stink. She made the corner and started her descent towards the coffee shop, and there he was, her coffee-boy, sitting on the small patio table, across from oh, that scary dark boy, waiting for her. In a sense, they both waited, she would remember, years from then. Both of them waiting for her, sitting at the coffee shop, watching as she approached, an image burned in her memory, a time of innocence, a stolen season of her life.

Matthew got up and came down to her. A broad smile stretching further and further across her face as she approached. She felt a smile break forth across her face in response as her heart beat loudly (could he hear it?) inside of her.

“All set,” he said when she had reached him. “Do you need anything? Coffee?”

“Well, I don't have any cash on me,” she began. He shook his head and said, “I've got it.”

And, into the coffee shop, he went and a few minutes later, he emerged with a medium size go-cup filled with coffee.

“Cream okay, I hope,” he said, as he handed it to her with a flourish. She nodded and took a sip, smiling at him over the brim.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “What do I owe you?”

“On the house,” he smiled down at her, wanting desperately to taste the coffee on her lips.

“Well,” she began. “It pays to know the coffee boy.”

“We prefer barista,” Matthew informed her.

“Barista, I will remember that,” she smiled up at him. “But I prefer coffee-boy, rather, cute-coffee boy. Even more, I prefer, Matthew the cute-coffee-boy.”

Matthew laughed and reached for her hand, waving at James, who merely looked at them, not really awake and seemed gloomy as he watched them ascend up the hill.

“Where are we off to?” Deborah wanted to know, as she took his hand and allowed herself to be led. Her insides twinged with his touch as they walked hand in hand. Yippee, she thought and her nether regions felt squishy with the delight. Her Christian friends would call that lust and would warn against those feelings, they aren't love they would say, nor lasting. Actually, it was her ex-boyfriend who would rail on and on about the dangers of sex outside of marriage, lust, and sin keeping her away from God. She wasn't sure about that and at that moment she only had eyes for Matthew.

“Hiking,” he smiled as he spoke, walking with a cute bounce in each step that Deborah loved and would remember for years to come. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Deborah breathed, beaming up at him. And, deep down, she heard the word “eternally” as her answer to him and wondered about that response, before excusing it and shaking it off. How could that be anywhere connected to a first date?

They made their way through the park, so wrapped up in each other they ignored the passing, chatting and idle tourists along the way. Their hands clung harder to each other and Deborah found the coffee spill slightly on her hands, burning her.

“Ouch,” she responded and he looked back at her, noticing, he took the coffee in his other hand. “Ah, a gentleman!”

He nodded at her, sipped the coffee, and they kept walking.

Pretty soon, the tourists chatter melted away as Matthew and Deborah disappeared deeper into the park. After a steep ascent, he brought her into the rambling bushes surrounding a secluded stream. Then, he catapulted himself across the river, bouncing from stone to stone, and landing upon a larger rock that jutted far out of the water. Deborah followed him, tentatively taking the same stones he had. He held out his hand and she climbed atop, sitting next to him. They sat side by side and perused their surroundings, heard the quiet rush of the water streaming around and beneath them, the gentle sway of the breeze, the calling of the birds amongst the trees, and together they breathed deep.

“I think this is my favorite place,” he said at last.

“Yeah, thank you for taking me here, then,” Deborah said as well. He took her hand in hers and they enjoyed that moment in connection.

“So, what have you got going on tonight?” Matthew asked at last, breaking the silence and surreptiously wanting to know how long he had her.

“Oh, god, I think my friends want me to go to church with them,” she responded, a little ashamed.

“Church? You into that?” Matthew wanted to know.

“I am not sure, they seem nice, the people who go there, its pretty laid back, I guess, my ex and I used to go but...”

“But?”

“Well, everyone there is so focused on one thing, like this one girl is all about getting married and finding the right guy, and if he's not Christian, then woah,” Deborah rambled without thinking.

“God, what's wrong with not being Christian?” Matthew scoffed.

“Yeah, I don't know, but they think that you can't really have a real loving relationship if they aren't Christian, so,” Deborah tried to explain.

“Well, what do you think?” Matthew asked, hopefully.

“Trying to figure that one out,” was all Deborah would give.

“Well, aren't you allowed to love who you want to love?” Matthew asked furtively and somewhat demandingly. “Isn't that what God is all about? Love? Unconditional love? And, not judging?”

“Yeah,” Deborah sat in silence for a moment and then cocked her head and looked at him, “You mean me? I'm allowed to love who I want to love?”

“Well, yeah, but everyone too,” he said, looking deeply at her.

“I hope you are right,” was all she could say, looking right back at him and into him. They sat in silence and took each other in, let the world around them slip away.

As that sat basking in each others presence, drinking in the others eyes, James sat gloomily at the patio table at the cafe. His head hurt from too much drink and not enough sleep the night before. He had stayed the night again at Sandra's house, his on and off girl-friend who was married yet in an open relationship. He enjoyed spending time with her, enjoyed the sex, for what its worth, and enjoyed the no-strings attached style of relationship. But, the days after always left him a little worn out, a little blue. For whatever reason. And, seeing Matt jaunty off with the pretty new girl at the cafe didn't make his mood any less gloomy. He picked up his coffee cup and swallowed hard a big gulp, then popped a piece of blueberry muffin into his mouth. As he chewed, he stared ahead at the world in front of him, the cracking sidewalk with the bits of weeds pushing through, (Nature always finds a way, he thought), at the cars passing by on the street on the main boulevard, the people moving from place to place busy with their lives. He closed his eyes tightly and wished with all of his might that the noise would disappear in his mind. That's how he could describe it. Outwardly, he showed a calm exterior, but that only hid the dark and wild thoughts that ping-ponged and ricocheted across his brain. There wasn't always any real cohesive thought, just rambling thoughts that trailed on and on and on without any end in sight. Right now, he was thinking of Eve, his ex-wife and surprisingly he found himself sort of missing her. Sort of. Then, as if by some supernatural force of the universe, his phone buzzed. Looking down, he saw it was her, Eve, calling.

In the depths of the park, Matt put his arm around Deborah and pulled her close to him. She leaned her head on her shoulder and placed her hand on his knee. They sat that way for a few minutes in the serenity of silence, lost in the perfection of the moment. Finally, Deborah, not moving her head, started to speak.

“So, tell me more about you,” she began.

“What do you want to know?” Matthew asked.

“Well, I don't know, maybe we should talk about our, um, past relationships,” Deborah said brokenly. She knew that in this day and age the importance of knowing one's past sexual excursions and such was quite necessary, but she always always found it awkward.

“Oh, what's to know,” he began slowly. “I mean, before you I was with a girl in high school for like four years then she went off to college up north, then there was Jamie and....ugh.”

“What's wrong with Jamie?” Deborah looked up at him, sweetly.

“Oh, don't get me started,” he snorted. “You know how you said about your ex? Sort of like that, only she also cheated on me with, like, the entire town, guys and girls!”

“Well, shit!” responded Deborah and she reached for his hand in consolation. “Sorry to bring it up.”

“Yeah,” Matthew started again, suddenly caught up in the intensity of the memory. “Had a ring ready to ask her to marry me and everything, until I found her....”

“Found her?”

“Came home one night and, well, you know,” Matthew explained.

“Shit,” Deborah. “Say no more.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Matthew said quietly to himself.

“Well, um,” Deborah began, trying to take the focus off of him in order to ease the tension. “I just had a few sort of relationships in high school, then the long-term one in college with the no-good asshole so...”

“Let's not talk any more about the past, okay?” Matthew interjected and smiled down at her. She nestled closer to him and he held her closer and tighter. “Let's just enjoy the now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Deborah responded.

At the coffee shop patio, James picked up the phone and answered.

“Yeah?” James barked.

From the other side of the phone, Eve began talking nervously, never sure what mood James was going to be in, an angry paranoid one or a less angry and paranoid one. At least these were the two that she saw, all the time. Other people saw a nicer, more quieter and calmer guy, but not her, at least, not anymore. She could recall, slightly, a time in her distant past when he was such a dream of a guy, so sweet, so attentive, so head over heels in love with her. She fell fast and hard when she met him, no warnings or deterrence from her friends got through. She had to learn the hard way just what kind of guy he really was, on the inside, the turmoil he kept so tightly hidden.

She wanted him to come over, to pick up some remaining things from the house they had, until recently, shared. She also wanted to let him know the paperwork from the divorce had gone through, been filed, signed, and that they were officially...over. She thought maybe he would share some sadness with her over that, some memory deep within of the happier times between them, if they were even real to him, or even to her. But, she said none of this, only asked him to come over to retrieve the remainder of this things at the house. His response was to angrily bark at her, that he would see her in a few minutes. Then, to hang up the phone abruptly. She sighed and leaned against the wall of her room, their old room, and stifled a cry. No use being the weaker of the two, not after everything they had been through, that he had put her through, had done to her.

“Okay, so you don't want to talk about the past,” Deborah said into Matthew's rough and warm skinned neck. “So tell me about your friends!”

She took a huge whiff of him and exalted in the pleasure it gave all of her.

“Well, which one you want to hear about first?” Matthew said, feeling her soft hair brush against his chin and reveling in it.

“Um, tell me about that Shaggy guy,” Deborah said, drawing one of the names he had told her about the night previous.

“We call him that because he looks like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo,” Matthew begain.

“Yeah, but what's his real name?”

“Ah, that's top secret,” Matthew laughed aloud. “Or at least to him its personal. He's kind of a conspiracy theory geek who is afraid of the government finding him so he hides his identity as much as possible blah blah blah.”

“Oh, shit,” laughed Deborah. “Anything else I should know about him?”

“Eh, just started college again, online,” Matthew began, thinking about his friend, Shaggy. “Studying computer science...has this girl he sees on and off, Amy, that's about it.”

“Okay, and what about always wear a tie dude?” Deborah was continuing the conversation.

“Oh, that's Thomas,” Matthew laughed. “He doesn't always wear a tie--”

“Yeah, just for work,” Deborah interrupted. “But I like “always wears a tie dude”. I like to make up names for people like that.”

“Oh yeah what's my name then?” Matthew wanted to know.

“Well, that's easy, you are, or were, until we met, the “cute-coffee boy,” Deborah explained flirtatiously.

“I thought I told you we preferred the term, barista,” Matthew reminded her.

“Yes, but that was after I met you and learned the professional terminology for he who works at at the coffee shop,” explained Deborah. “So anything else I need to know about “Thomas”?”

“Eh, not much,” Matthew said distracted by her eyes looking up into his. “I mean, he just moved here after a bad break up with a girl up north and that's how we met. Shaggy knew him and said we had to go up and rescue him from this chic, so we did. You can imagine that car-ride home, all three of us, chain smoking and talking about how girls are just so shitty!”

“I'm sorry,” Deborah said and she placed a soft kiss on the inside of Matthew's neck. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him, warmly.

James walked down the familiar street to his old house, just a five minute walk from the coffee shop. He and Eve had discovered the coffee shop together and until recently she had worked as a barista there herself. Until they had split up and she felt it necessary to look for other work. The trees were still leafy, filled with the oranges and reds of the fall foliage, the streets equal in their leaf-strewn surroundings. He kicked at the leaves as he walked and watched as they fluttered away from him. Stepping on a few, he heard the familiar crunch that left a satisfaction in his heart. Sometimes life seemed so simple to him, most of the time it wasn't.

Coming up to the little house on the corner with the blue door, he felt an inner twinge at his heart. He walked slowly up the path and knocked loudly on that same blue door. Eve came to the door, wearing a loose black shirt and jeans.

“Um, hi,” she said and bit her lip. “Come in.”

He stepped into the living room and saw the changes that had been made, notably the lack of his belongings that were now being tossed more and more into a storage unit across town. There was a box in the corner, marked “James” which he assumed was the last remaining items of his at the house. He stood in the middle of what was his living room and gazed around mindlessly.

“Um, you want to sit? You want a drink or something?” Eve was saying, somewhere in the distance.

“No,” he said gruffly and stared at her hard. She sat on the edge of the sofa and sighed heavily.

“James, I have something to tell you,” she began slowly. He continued staring at her, trying to read her thoughts and to her it felt like he was trying to intimidate her.

“Yeah?” he said at last.

“The paperwork came back from the DA's office,” she began and sighed again. “Um, its official.”

“Aha,” he said, nodding. “You happy?”

“Not really, I mean,” was all she said and stared hard at the ground. Absentmindedly, her hand reached up to her neck and she fingered a necklace. He saw a glint of silver hanging from the chain and then recognized what it was, their wedding rings hanging side by side. He grunted at that. She looked up at him, smiling sadly, he thought, mockingly. Then, she unclipped the chain from around her neck and held the necklace out to him, the rings dangled off the chain between them, somewhat symbolically. “Maybe you should have this.”

She stood holding it out to him and he stared at her, penetrating her with his eyes. He moved towards her slowly, slowly, slowly. She inhaled hard and held her breath, then released it, as if gasping for air.

“So what about that old guy?” Deborah wanted to know.

“The old guy?” Matthew asked.

“You know the old hippie? What did you say his name was?”

“Oh, that's Ray,” Matthew laughed. “Yeah, crazy hippie drunk Ray, love that guy.”

“Oh, okay,” Deborah took that in. “And what about...what about...the scary dark one...”

“Scary dark one? Oh, you must mean, James,” Matthew smiled at her. “He's not so scary when you get to know him, I mean, he's had it rough, mom just died, wife divorced him, tough times. I just cut him some slack, hope he comes around, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Deborah smiled at him, loving the goodness of heart that appeared to be Matthew.

James left his old house, letting the blue door slam angrily behind him, leaving Eve behind as well. The necklace with their rings was pushed deep inside of his jeans pocket. He moved up the street back to the patio, maybe no one would notice he had gone, it had been that short of a time. He half realized that he had left the box of his items behind, the reason she had called him over there in the first place, her rouse, as it were. Good, he thought, don't need that crap anyway? Still, he thought, I hoped none of it was any of my mom's old stuff.

At the cafe, his blue coffee cup stood on the table of the patio, where he had left it, the plate with the half-eaten muffin beside it. He sat, heavily down on the chair. The necklace chain leaked out from his pocket as he sat and he pushed it back in. Peering inside the coffee shop, he noticed what's her name, the barista chic, had her ear-buds in and was listening to some music, totally unaware of the world around her. Good, he thought, good. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. The liquid inside was still semi-warm.

Down the street came the happy pair that was Matthew and Deborah, the fresh bloom of new love upon their faces, rosy with the Fall air and the walk. As he watched them walking towards him hand in hand, his eyes fell upon the small frame of Deborah, slightly petite build, shoulder-length dark hair, dark brown eyes, and she brought to mind someone from his past, not to distant past, and inside of him crept one thought, just one thought: desire.

Eyes slanted, in the corner of the bar, sat James, slanted not just because of the marijuana he had recently smoked but because of his decision to remain discreet as he watched Deborah with overwhelming desire and want, nay, need. The question was, how to steal her affections away from Matthew. The pair of them sat in the opposite corner of the bar. The two drinks that Matthew had purchased, two shots of saki, sat in front of them, mostly unnoticed, on the table before them. Their eyes were caught up in each others, deep in conference with one another over the intricacies of the others' souls. With each moment they grew closer, James grew more distant, more repulsed, and more greedy. His friends around him, namely Ray, Shaggy, and Thomas, seemed not to notice his distance and foul, dark mood. They were too caught up in their own high, their own busyness of their own minds and lives, to pay too much attention to that of James' world. James saw Matthew laugh as Deborah picked up her drink and downed it in one gulp.

“Shit,” Matthew was laughing, in shock at Deborah before him.

“What?” Deborah asked, questions of worry forming in her eyes.

“You aren't supposed to chug it like that, only sip it!” Matthew explained and they both laughed. Then, their eyes met again and Deborah, already feeling the buzz, reached her hand up stroked his red hair, tucking the longer strands behind his ear.

“Such beautiful hair!” she whispered longingly. The DJ started up a new song and Matthew looked at her, hopefully.

“Want to dance?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” she said. He got up and reached out his hand to her. She took it, rose from her seat, and followed him, past his friends, onto the dance floor where only a few smattering of other dancers were already moving to the beat. James watched her closely as she walked by, and noticed how she seemed to respond to his focused attention, hiding herself slightly on the other side of Matthew, away from James' view.

Matthew and Deborah danced amongst the other dancers, facing each other yet not touching. Out of the crowd, Barbara came bounding toward Matthew. She was dressed in a short, slinky silvery dress and he could tell when she reached him, by the smell on her breath, that she had been drinking. How he was not sure because she was not yet even twenty-one, not even how she had gotten into this nightclub, but there she was. She pushed herself hard against him, proving what he had known for awhile now, she liked him. She began rubbing herself against him as they danced, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Deborah look down, dismayed, jealous, worried. With that look, he pushed Barbara off of him and moved closer to Deborah. It wasn't just for Deborah that he did that, but he never really liked girls that were that forward, an invasion of space more like. He did notice, however, Deborah's sly smile peering up at him through the hair that had fallen into his face. God, how he wanted to kiss her right then and there.

The song spun itself out and Matthew reached for Deborah's hand. She placed hers in his and he led her from the dance floor, whispering into her ear, “You want to take a walk?”

“Yeah,” she said back. “My car's on the other side of town, you want to walk me there?”

He smiled down at her in affirmation and moved back to their coats, their table, and their sakis. Well, his. Hers was nicely slammed and empty beside his. Deborah said nothing to Matthew at the moment they passed the table with all his friends, nothing about the eyes that bore into her where ever she went, nothing about how it made her feel somehow intrigued and somehow even known. She concentrated mostly on the gleam of his beautiful red hair as it danced among the low lights of the bar, his soft blue eyes when they turned towards her, and the appeal of his luscious lips. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him right then and there.

Matthew finished his saki and then turned to her, holding out her coat and helped her into it. After she had buttoned up, he handed her his purse, then put his coat on as well, after she had taken it.

“All ready?” he smiled down at her alluringly. She nodded. “Just want to stop and say hi and bye to my friends, if that's all right?”

“Sure, sure,” Deborah said, but nervously bit her lip. The friends thing kind of scared her. The rebellious bunch of ragtag crew that hung out at the coffee shop, even always wears a tie was there, and yes, he was wearing a tie, even there. Yeah, he might have just come from work but Deborah thought it was telling that here he was wearing a tie confirming his nickname to be true. Mari who had pointed it out to her a few days ago would laugh if she saw him. Mari, who was safely tucked away in her room, asleep after a festive night at bible study, most likely, scamming the room for a husband.

“Hey everybody,” Matthew was saying to the table. “I want you to meet someone. Everyone, this is Deborah. Deborah, this is everyone.”

“Hi Everyone,” Deborah said with a shy smile and a little giggle. She looked around at their faces, some rugged with the sun's burn from last summer only now receding and leaving the traces of lines in its wake, others pale with the absence of any sun, and all of them with eyes slanted and red. Stoned, she thought, nice.

“Hi, Deborah, I'm Thomas,” Always Wears A Tie was saying as he stuck out his hand.

“See, he does have a name,” teased Matthew. Deborah punched him slightly and said a short “Hi” to Always Wears A...no...Thomas.

“And, this is Shaggy, James, and Ray,” Thomas introduced the rest of them, pointing them out with his free hand, the other holding his mug of beer.

“Hiya,” was Deborah's response.

“So, Deborah, what does Ray remind you of?” Matthew wanted to know. She looked at him, quizzically and cocked her head to one side. “Look carefully, the red nose, reddish hair, beanie atop his head...”

Deborah shook her head, laughing.

“One hint,” whispered Matthew. “Lawn gnome!”

Deborah laughed out loud and exclaimed, “Oh my god, yeah!”

“King of the lawn gnomes,” Ray exclaimed back to her. “At your service!”

She smiled to him, bowed her head in reverence, and said, “Your majesty!”

He grinned at her and raised his beer to her, before taking a huge swig. Deborah felt the eyes of James upon her, boring into her, and a shudder went up her spine. Danger loomed within her when she felt his presence, at once she felt like running away while the other part felt like running towards...him. She moved a few feet away from the table. Matthew looked over at her, questioningly, concerned.

She nodded slightly and he turned to his friends,

“We're going to just take a walk,” he explained. “I'll see you guys around later.”

They nodded their good-byes to both and turned into their beers. Matthew turned and reached out for her hand and the two of them bounced out the door, across the bridge that got them to the sidewalk, and out into the night for their lovers' stroll.

The cold night air felt invigorating to Deborah as they left the stuffiness of the nightclub. She took a deep breath in and held it, as if wanting to hold this moment within her for all times. They began walking.

He took her along the back streets of the town, the town he had raised in and had so many memories. He told her so many stories about each place they came to, the crazy times he had had in each, and each time they stopped, he took a minute to pull her close, catching the scent of her hair as her face lay against his face.

When they finally reached her car, parked outside another coffee shop across town, they stopped and looked at each other, nervous yet wanting.

“Yeah, so,” Deborah sat, biting her lip and staring at her hands twisting together.

“Yeah, so what are you doing tomorrow?”

“I get off work around 3,” Deborah blurted out. Then, blushed shyly and stared at the ground.

“How about a late lunch?” Matthew offered. She looked up into his face, smiled, and then nodded. With that, he pulled her towards him in a passionate hug. Then, slowly they turned their heads to each other and their lips met, at last. His tongue entered her mouth and explored within, hers into his. His hands rubbed down her back and she leaned harder against him. He liked the way she felt so close against him and she was thinking the same. After a few minutes of the kiss, and a few pecks afterward, he walked her over to her car and waited while she unlocked it and got in. She sat and turned to look at him, without warning, he pushed her against the seat and started again. She wrapped her arms around him and embraced him.

“You want a ride home?” she asked, breathless between kisses.

“No, no,” he smiled at her and sat back outside the car. She sat up and put the key in the ignition. He reached up and kissed her again, pushing her head against the back of her seat. Her hand cupped the back of his neck and the other hand ran through his beautiful hair.

“You sure you don't want a ride?” she asked again, with a giggle.

He studied her for a moment with a sheepish grin, then shook his head, “I'm sure.”

He stood up then, and smiling down at her, said, “See you tomorrow,” then closed the door of her car. He turned and walked back down the sidewalk from whence they had come, she started her car, backed up, and then pulled into the silent street, empty of any traffic. What he didn't notice as he walked away from the coffee shop, what she didn't notice as she drove away from the coffee shop, was that directly across in the dark shadows of a tree, in an unlit parking lit, stood James. Watching.

James woke up with a start, he was in his bed, still in his clothes from yesterday and the sweat from over-sleeping plus whatever he had done the day and night before clung to him. His head ached, he had blacked out again and not from too much drink. A shard of sunlight was streaming through a crack in the curtain he had pulled down tight over the window and hitting him across his eyes. Bringing his arm up to his face, he blocked out the sun from his face, groaned inwardly and outwardly, and raised himself to a sitting position. The room spun about him for several moments before righting itself. Too much alcohol consumed the night before or lack of sleep, James did not know which was the cause but it was something that had been happening in recent mornings. Reluctantly, he pulled himself up and moved slowly, heavily to the bathroom. Stripping naked, he turned the faucet on in the shower and let the steam fill the bathroom before getting into the roasting water. The water cascaded over him in riplets and the heat refreshed his addled brain It was all a jumble of confusion lately. He remembered he had seen Eve yesterday, then being at the coffee house, then later spending time with Sandra, but then it got hazy...hazier actually...he remembered something about wandering home throughout the streets, staring up at the inky black sky, and seeing across the street at another coffee shop...seeing them...Matthew with that girl....the new girl. Yes, he remembered seeing them for a minute at the bar before they took off and he...he'd left then too, for home, but took a little detour staring up at the inky blackness of the sky, lost in the midst of his own mind, seeking some semblance of peace from the war in his mind. And, then there they were, she was wrapped up in him and he in her. They didn't even notice when he ducked in the folds of the shade of a tree and stayed there until they both parted from each other.

It was time now, to get out of the shower, out of his mind, and on with his day. Maybe this day would be a better day, maybe he could finally get some work, a commission, as it were, something to pass the time and occupy his mind from all that was inside. But, first coffee was needed.

Toweling off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and headed into his bedroom. His room-mate was busying himself in the kitchen, heading off to his own day of work. He pulled on the jeans from yesterday and rummaged through his room until he found a somewhat clean shirt. Socks and shoes made the outfit complete, he slouched into his navy coat and pulled on his burgundy beret.

“See you later, Tom,” he called to his room-mate as he moved out the front door and down the steps of the front porch.

At the coffee shop, Matthew was busying himself with customers at the counter, heating up various food items and taking it to other customers, and briefly nodded to James as he crossed to the counter.

“The usual, James?” Matthew was asking when he finally returned to the counter to take his order.

“You know me too well,” was James reply. Matthew set a peach pecan muffin and the blue coffee cup full to the brim on the counter before him. James set down a 5 dollar bill and headed out to the patio to smoke, soak up the remaining warmth of the sun before the winter set in, and savor his meal. “Chess later, Matthew?”

“Yeah, in a bit,” was Matthew's reply as another customer moved up to the counter for a refill.

Matthew sat on the cafe patio, across from him sat James, staring glumly at the chess game they were engrossed in, however, Matthew was distracted watching the passersby, hoping to see the face of the beautiful Deborah coming down the street. James was distracted because despite Matthew's distraction, he, James, was losing the game. And, not just the chess game, either. The game was nearly at a close, most of James' pieces were lined up on the side of Matthew's side of the board, taken prisoner by Matthew's pieces. James couldn't abide this, so he cautiously moved his queen into position, boldly and hoping that he could execute his plan to remove Matthew's king from the game. This was his one last chance at winning the game.

Matthew looked down at the game and switched his king with his rookie, without much thought. Then stared anxiously down the street, waiting, waiting, waiting for her. James was beside himself with glee, Matthew had done just what he had hoped he would do.

And, suddenly there she was. Only she wasn't walking, she had just pulled her car up to the opposite side of the street and there she was getting out of the car. Matthew's face beamed with anticipation and then he saw, getting out of the opposite side of the car, her friend, Mari. The obsessive Christian girl who wanted nothing more than to simultanously wed everyone off and baptize them in the name of Jesus into the doctrine of her church. Matthew swallowed hard with the bitterness rising to his throat. Deborah was wonderful, Mari was a bit harder to deal with. Not only was she “high on Jesus” and wanted everyone to know it, but she wasn't very bright either. Matthew had seen her out and about at night, at the dance clubs, drinking and living it up, partying and dancing the night away, seductively moving up to every eligible guy in the room, until one took the bait and went home with her, only to see her piously heading off to church the next day. He sighed, that kind of hypocrisy wore him down was the one thing that kept him from darkening the doors of the church. Well, one of the things.

Deborah skipped across the street towards him, carrying her purse and a bag of Chinese food in the other hand.

A few minutes before, as they pulled up to the curb, Deborah glanced over at Mari and said, “Shit, that James guy is there.”

“What's wrong with James?” Mari wanted to know. She had not hung out with Deborah and her new boyfriend, and his friends that much and still was in the dark about the whole gang.

“He's just kind of dark, you know, moody or something,” Deborah tried to explain. “Kind of a scary dark boy, is all.”

“Well, all we can do is love on him and hope he sees Jesus in us,” Mari began her good Christian girl agenda.

“Yeah, maybe, possibly,” was all Deborah could say and she opened the car door. Her eyes saw Matthew, beaming at her and she headed towards him, her heart light and her step quickening. A smile spread across her face and suddenly she was nervous too. The Chinese bag of food she had bought for his lunch swung against her leg. Mari followed her across the street and up the stairs of the coffee shop. Deborah swung the bag onto his lap, gently and kissed his cheek chastely. “Some lunch for you, my friend.”

“Thanks,” he said, beaming at her and leaning in for a kiss. She gave one to him and stroked his soft red hair.

“When are you off?” Deborah wanted to know.

“About two hours,” Matthew began. “Been totally a slow day, basically, just James and I right now.”

“Yeah, I see that,” was all Deborah could say as she cautiously eyed James.

“Checkmate,” James said, moving his rookie in front of Matthew's king and not taking his eyes off of Deborah. Deborah shivered and looked back at Matthew, biting her lip.

“Good game,” was all Matthew would say. He reached out and shook James' hand.

“So, I'll see you later then?” Deborah said hopefully, smiling down at Matthew and trying hard not to look at James.

“Yeah, I'll call you,” he smiled. She bent down and kissed him. Then, followed Mari back to her car. Once in, she looked at the steering wheel, hesitating before she started.

“Are they looking at us?” she asked Mari.

“Yeah,” Mari laughed. “Matthew and that other guy are looking at you, I'm looking at them, and you are staring in front of you.”

Deborah turned her head and looked across the street at the coffee shop. There they stood, James and Matthew. Matthew waved a big friendly warm wave at her and James gave a nod. In later years, after time had passed and everything that had happened faded into memory, she would remember this moment, captured forever in her heart, the two of them sitting together in the sun, smiling at her, warmly, lovingly, a serene picture of happiness and acceptance that only true friends offer one another.