He liked what she was wearing today. A blue and white marina-styled baby doll dress with fluorescent orange heels. She could not have possibly known that it was a perfect mismatch. Jet black, blazing hair, unruly and messy. She could not have possibly known that her cascading mane was painfully sexy. Her almost skinny forearms covered in bright, chunky orange bangles which dwarfed her hands drew his attention. She had painted her nails marine blue today. Must be an occasion.
He spent a few more minutes studying her, completely oblivious to the other people around him at the neighbourhood coffee bar. She came in every morning, without fail, and ordered the same drink - a cafe latte, with one extra shot of espresso, skinny milk, easy on the foam. It really must be a special occasion. He watched her sharp face as she turned to thank the waiter for bringing her extra napkins. All the waiters were watching her, he knew that much. She was a sight, alright. She could not have been any taller than his 6'3", but she'd give him a run for his money. He had her pegged at 5'11", weighing a healthy 140 pounds. She wasn't light, though she looked it, he knew.
Everything about her was sharp. Her eyes, her nose, her jaw. When she turned to smile at the now ecstatic waiter, he felt the room move. He looked around and saw that everyone had turned to stare at her. She picked up her teaspoon and the whole room waited for her customary stir-lick-lick. She could not have known how much the men in the room suffered when she did that. She lifts the teaspoon, places it in her cup, stirs for approximately three seconds and the world stops. Time stops.
Even women stop to watch. Men hold their breaths. Children stop screaming and running around. Almost as though she is the most amazing thing on the planet, the world stops turning, birds stop flying, so they could watch her tongue dart out past her perfect lips and lick both sides of the spoon. How he wished he could destroy that spoon. How he wished he was that spoon. There was nothing sexy or seductive about the way she did it, he knew that much. It was not an intentional act or ploy to gain attention. She did it because she just felt like doing so, every morning of everyday. It was a habit. There were days when the waiters intentionally put foam in her drink, just so she would have to spoon bits of foam into her perfect mouth. He knew they did it, he had overheard them talking.
She was exceptionally beautiful today. Like a deity, she looked happier than usual. She hadn't the slightest clue of how beautiful she was - she couldn't have. No one knew who she was, what she did for a living, where she lived, whether or not she was single. It was as though people had a God-like reverence for her. No one dared talk to her, walk up to her or even so much as grab her and kiss her silly. When she smiled, people smiled. One of the female waitresses had found out her name, it was Jo. Was that even a name?
She had never frowned at anyone, always let the screaming kids run around her without even so much as batting an eye. He had watched her every day for two months now. He remembered being only mildly interested by this colourful, shockingly beautiful woman. On the weekends, she came in with her lap top. He had once walked behind her, feigning interest in the books on the shelves placed at the back of the coffee shop so he could get a glance of who she really was. He saw the funniest thing, she was playing solitaire, with a seriousness that would have scared people. She was concentrating hard and he had quelled the urge to point out a seemingly obvious move.
He knew he should just walk up to her, put his hand out and say, “Hi. I’m Jake.”
He doubted he’d be able to form a sentence if she smiled at him. He reached out for his cup as he watched her from behind his newspaper only to realize that it was empty. He huffed and looked at his watched, it was ten past nine. He was late already, but it was worth it. He moves to stand and his chair made an awful sound – of what could only seem to be flatulence. He did not just fart. She obviously heard it. He was going to smash the chair into a million pieces.
“Awwww, dude! Gross!” Chip, the waiter roared. The few remaining customers burst into laughter, some people clapped. Everyone knew it was the chair, but they had to rib him for it.
“Guys, come on. You know...” he said, red-faced. He was mortified. He had never, not once in life been embarrassed about “gas”. He didn’t dare look over to her table to see if she had any response to the whole situation.
The people around him still laughing, slowly recovering from the whole debacle, some wiping away tears of laughter, some kids making fart-like sounds, still finding the whole incident hilarious.
“You know, caffeine does stimulate the gut. You should check to see if you sharted.”
She had said something to him. He could not believe it.
“You know, fart plus shit makes shart?” she quipped, smiling at him. Even her eyes knew how to smile. He was dumbfounded. Shell-shocked.
“Maybe you had a suprise-a-poo-pee?” she continued. Chip, who was stunned at her completely uncharacteristic eruption, trip over a chair and spilled whatever it was he was carrying.
The kids in the cafe burst into laughter again and then she moved. She laughed so heartily it was as though he had made her day. He was frozen. He still could not believe she had spoken to him and that he, the most serious, quiet person in the whole county, had made her laugh like that. He used to think she was beautiful, he obviously had not seen her laugh. She was exquisite.
“I, uh, know what shart means,” he said with was supposed to be a light-hearted tone. It sounded more like a growl.
He attempted to smile, but it came out as an angry frown. She smiled, sincerely and said, “I’ve offended you. I apologise. I was just...”
Now she was apologizing to him. Could this day get even worse? Did her eyes just dim a little? He looked at her pretty face and realised that she sincerely felt bad for opening her mouth.
“No. No... I, uh,” he swallowed. He must have looked like a royal idiot. He called himself ten different kinds of fool.
He made her feel bad. He felt awful. He felt like he had stolen candy from a baby. He felt like a villain. Knowing there was nothing he could do, he moved to make his exit. Chip, who now saw no humour in the whole situation, moved to clear his table.
“Jake, dude, relax man. The little lady was just kidding” Chip said to him.
“She’s not little,” he snapped. Knowing he had messed up only made things worse, and saying what he had just said made things even worse. Before he said something else that was absolutely stupid he dashed out of the cafe, feeling the warmth of her stare on his back. He wouldn’t be able to forget how she laughed, the sound of her voice. He knew she was not laughing at him. He knew she was just trying to be friendly, but he had turned into a complete monster.
As he crossed the street to his hardware shop, he kicked himself mentally.
“Get over it, Foster,” he muttered.
He was grumpy all day after that embarrassing event. He should have said something funny, he should have been able to come back at her with something smart, witty. He should have been charming. He felt like an angry ogre. Burly.
The few neighbourhood customers that came into the shop throughout the day made small talk with him. They all liked him, some even loved him and treated him like he was family. Yet, he always distanced himself. He always turned down dinner invitations from the Smiths, ate the God-awful pecan pie made by old lady Percy without complaint, he just lived his life, as he had for the past five years.
This Jo, this strange woman, threw him off balance. She made him feel alive. As he closed up his shop later that evening, he was determined to make it up to her. He would make her laugh again, and this time he would introduce himself. Time for change.
He spent a few more minutes studying her, completely oblivious to the other people around him at the neighbourhood coffee bar. She came in every morning, without fail, and ordered the same drink - a cafe latte, with one extra shot of espresso, skinny milk, easy on the foam. It really must be a special occasion. He watched her sharp face as she turned to thank the waiter for bringing her extra napkins. All the waiters were watching her, he knew that much. She was a sight, alright. She could not have been any taller than his 6'3", but she'd give him a run for his money. He had her pegged at 5'11", weighing a healthy 140 pounds. She wasn't light, though she looked it, he knew.
Everything about her was sharp. Her eyes, her nose, her jaw. When she turned to smile at the now ecstatic waiter, he felt the room move. He looked around and saw that everyone had turned to stare at her. She picked up her teaspoon and the whole room waited for her customary stir-lick-lick. She could not have known how much the men in the room suffered when she did that. She lifts the teaspoon, places it in her cup, stirs for approximately three seconds and the world stops. Time stops.
Even women stop to watch. Men hold their breaths. Children stop screaming and running around. Almost as though she is the most amazing thing on the planet, the world stops turning, birds stop flying, so they could watch her tongue dart out past her perfect lips and lick both sides of the spoon. How he wished he could destroy that spoon. How he wished he was that spoon. There was nothing sexy or seductive about the way she did it, he knew that much. It was not an intentional act or ploy to gain attention. She did it because she just felt like doing so, every morning of everyday. It was a habit. There were days when the waiters intentionally put foam in her drink, just so she would have to spoon bits of foam into her perfect mouth. He knew they did it, he had overheard them talking.
She was exceptionally beautiful today. Like a deity, she looked happier than usual. She hadn't the slightest clue of how beautiful she was - she couldn't have. No one knew who she was, what she did for a living, where she lived, whether or not she was single. It was as though people had a God-like reverence for her. No one dared talk to her, walk up to her or even so much as grab her and kiss her silly. When she smiled, people smiled. One of the female waitresses had found out her name, it was Jo. Was that even a name?
She had never frowned at anyone, always let the screaming kids run around her without even so much as batting an eye. He had watched her every day for two months now. He remembered being only mildly interested by this colourful, shockingly beautiful woman. On the weekends, she came in with her lap top. He had once walked behind her, feigning interest in the books on the shelves placed at the back of the coffee shop so he could get a glance of who she really was. He saw the funniest thing, she was playing solitaire, with a seriousness that would have scared people. She was concentrating hard and he had quelled the urge to point out a seemingly obvious move.
He knew he should just walk up to her, put his hand out and say, “Hi. I’m Jake.”
He doubted he’d be able to form a sentence if she smiled at him. He reached out for his cup as he watched her from behind his newspaper only to realize that it was empty. He huffed and looked at his watched, it was ten past nine. He was late already, but it was worth it. He moves to stand and his chair made an awful sound – of what could only seem to be flatulence. He did not just fart. She obviously heard it. He was going to smash the chair into a million pieces.
“Awwww, dude! Gross!” Chip, the waiter roared. The few remaining customers burst into laughter, some people clapped. Everyone knew it was the chair, but they had to rib him for it.
“Guys, come on. You know...” he said, red-faced. He was mortified. He had never, not once in life been embarrassed about “gas”. He didn’t dare look over to her table to see if she had any response to the whole situation.
The people around him still laughing, slowly recovering from the whole debacle, some wiping away tears of laughter, some kids making fart-like sounds, still finding the whole incident hilarious.
“You know, caffeine does stimulate the gut. You should check to see if you sharted.”
She had said something to him. He could not believe it.
“You know, fart plus shit makes shart?” she quipped, smiling at him. Even her eyes knew how to smile. He was dumbfounded. Shell-shocked.
“Maybe you had a suprise-a-poo-pee?” she continued. Chip, who was stunned at her completely uncharacteristic eruption, trip over a chair and spilled whatever it was he was carrying.
The kids in the cafe burst into laughter again and then she moved. She laughed so heartily it was as though he had made her day. He was frozen. He still could not believe she had spoken to him and that he, the most serious, quiet person in the whole county, had made her laugh like that. He used to think she was beautiful, he obviously had not seen her laugh. She was exquisite.
“I, uh, know what shart means,” he said with was supposed to be a light-hearted tone. It sounded more like a growl.
He attempted to smile, but it came out as an angry frown. She smiled, sincerely and said, “I’ve offended you. I apologise. I was just...”
Now she was apologizing to him. Could this day get even worse? Did her eyes just dim a little? He looked at her pretty face and realised that she sincerely felt bad for opening her mouth.
“No. No... I, uh,” he swallowed. He must have looked like a royal idiot. He called himself ten different kinds of fool.
He made her feel bad. He felt awful. He felt like he had stolen candy from a baby. He felt like a villain. Knowing there was nothing he could do, he moved to make his exit. Chip, who now saw no humour in the whole situation, moved to clear his table.
“Jake, dude, relax man. The little lady was just kidding” Chip said to him.
“She’s not little,” he snapped. Knowing he had messed up only made things worse, and saying what he had just said made things even worse. Before he said something else that was absolutely stupid he dashed out of the cafe, feeling the warmth of her stare on his back. He wouldn’t be able to forget how she laughed, the sound of her voice. He knew she was not laughing at him. He knew she was just trying to be friendly, but he had turned into a complete monster.
As he crossed the street to his hardware shop, he kicked himself mentally.
“Get over it, Foster,” he muttered.
He was grumpy all day after that embarrassing event. He should have said something funny, he should have been able to come back at her with something smart, witty. He should have been charming. He felt like an angry ogre. Burly.
The few neighbourhood customers that came into the shop throughout the day made small talk with him. They all liked him, some even loved him and treated him like he was family. Yet, he always distanced himself. He always turned down dinner invitations from the Smiths, ate the God-awful pecan pie made by old lady Percy without complaint, he just lived his life, as he had for the past five years.
This Jo, this strange woman, threw him off balance. She made him feel alive. As he closed up his shop later that evening, he was determined to make it up to her. He would make her laugh again, and this time he would introduce himself. Time for change.
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