entry for prodigy contest thing.

discussion in My Coffee
By TwoForJoy - My first post!!!! Hope you like it.

It was the rain that brought me there I guess, I've never been a big believer in fate.
Had it been clear for the rest of the day, I would have bought my Sunday paper, done some more window shopping, and taken the subway home. But it had been overcast all day, and as I made my way us the grey city street, the sky opened, erupting into sheets of icy rain. Startled, I looked up, rain dripping down my cheeks like tears. The sky had filled with dark, looming clouds. The others who had been enjoying the day like I was, hurried along, scooping up their children, hurrying down the sidewalks to escape the weather. The wet seeped through my suit jacket, plastering my sandy hair to my face. Side-stepping as a crowd pushed their way past me, I found myself pressed against the glass door of a small coffee shop. The paint was peeling, but the light looked warm, so I opened the door quickly and stepped inside, taking shelter from the tempest brewing above me.

As a silver bell chimed, announcing my arrival, none of the patrons looked up. An impossibly young looking waitress gave me a small smile and waved me over to her counter. 'What can I get you, hun?" she asked, her brown eyes friendly.
"Large coffee, no milk." The girl hurried away, directing me towards a table.

Sitting down, I pulled off my jacket and wiped my dripping hair from my eyes. Outside, through the large picture window, the sheets of rain were pounding the pavement, the sky was growing so dark it looked almost like night time. I tapped my broad fingers against the well worn tabletop, looking around at the shop. It was cute, with clusters of chairs around the little tables, handwritten chalkboard signs, and the little counter with plates of cookies and brownies on it. I watched the customers, sipping coffee or tea, chatting with a friend or reading a paper, some alone and quiet like me. I rubbed the stubble on my cheeks, closing my eyes.

I opened them slowly, and looked out the window again, it was raining hard like this, the last time I saw her. Days like this always made me think of those days, when I was young and believed in love. Now I was in my forties, divorced, alone. I wondered what happened to her, if she was happy, whether or not she missed me too. I regretted so much of our last days together, all those things I said.

"Nasty weather out there." The voice of the tiny waitress stirred my thoughts. I nodded vacantly and took my coffee. She turned and went back to her counter. Rubbing my hands over the warm mug, I took a sip. Immediately, I regretted it. Milk, and creamer. Wiping my mouth, I stared out into space, wishing she was here with me. Not my wife, but the woman I loved before I had ever met her. Closing my eyes, I imagined her face, her wide hazel eyes, the head or dark hair. The way she laughed, I could picture it so well, it was like I was hearing it now, clear and high. I opened my eyes, and i heard it, not in my head, for real.

I snapped my head around, and my eyes landed on a shock of dark hair. It was shorter now, at her shoulders instead of down her back, but just as beautiful as the day we met. Although she has her back to me, It had to be her. I took in a sharp breath, my lips parted, her name on my lips. As soon as I said it, louder than I intended, she turned, and I dropped my eyes, staring into the bitter depths of my coffee. I waited until I was sure she had turned around, before I looked up. It had to be her. How hard it was not to reach out and touch her, to tell her who I was, to say I was sorry. God I loved her, so much it hurt. I watched her thin hand grasp her china cup, three rings on her left hand. There was a time when I would hold that hand, play with the silver rings that shone and sparkled in the sunlight.

In my mind I played through a thousand scenarios, all the while staring at my coffee, like it could give me an answer. I imagined asking to borrow her sugar, or a spoon. Getting up to use the restroom and stealing a glimpse, just to make sure it was her. I imagined starting a conversation with her, even for a moment, to hear her voice. I wondered what she would say to me, what I could possibly say to explain to her why I ran away from her, on a day like this. I imagined what It would feel like to touch her again, to hold her close, twining my rough hands with her thin ones. I imagined whispering "I love you." into her hair, over and over.

But I did none of these things, too afraid to speak and too afraid to listen. Instead I stared into the swirling depths of my cold coffee begging it a single question. I look into my cup, hoping to find the secrets I've been chasing in it's bitter surface. I am disappointed. After what feels like eternity lost in thought, I get up, looking shyly at my feet, and sit down at her table, leaving my coffee to it's own devices. I look up, mouth open, hoping that the words I need to say will come out, the words that will set me free. I look up, ready to see the girl I've loved for more than half my life.

And she's gone.

I get up wordlessly, leave my change on the table, the tip more than i paid for the coffee, and walk out of that door and into the rain.

It was the rain that brought me to her again, and it was into the rain that I lost her a second time.