literature

The Cafe (Part 1 of 5)

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Alexis nestled into the cozy booth and gazed out the window of the cafe. It was a dark, cloudy afternoon. Her favorite.

No cell phones today. No work. Just me and a cup of Lillia's coffee. A hopeful, perfect moment or two will do me good. No guilt allowed!

"Here you go sweety," Lillia scooted a steamy cup over to the ginger-haired gal she'd known for some 20 years. "I'll leave the carafe on the table for ya. I know you'll be pestering me for more otherwise!"

Alexis laughed. "Thanks Lil. How's things with the hip?"

Lillia's hip, like much of her, was worn down from years of shuffling about on hardwood floors, ballroom dancing with trays that teetered with stacks of porcelain. "Oh, it's been better. This weather is a tad mean to my bones." She went from resting her hand on the table to subtlety shifting her weight to it. "You like it broody, don't ya dear?"

"I do. Not sure why. Maybe the rain calms things down. I don't know. It's when things make the most sense to me." She shimmied a little, picked up the coffee and kissed the brim with her lips, taking a long sip.

"Well, enjoy your cup dear. I'll be bringing the dessert tray by later if ya want sumtin'!" Lillia pushed off and headed to the door with gusto, greeting refugees from the brewing storm.

Alexis turned her attention back to the window. Drops began dotting the glass as she listened for that rhythm. Not quite yet.

It felt good to be single again. After three well-intended relationships in eight years, it was time to work on herself. She now had the confidence she could find someone if need be. But right now, it need not be. It was comforting.

Ah, there's that rhythm — the rain that quells the jagged memories and elevates the stillness. The happy middle.

At 41, wisdom was catching up to her zest. Everything seemed sweeter.

Of course, everyone knows it is when you think you've got it all figured it out, life throws you for a loop.

"Excuse me, are you Alexis?"

A man cocked his head with a hopeful tilt as he peered down at her.

She perched up. "I am."

"I'm Max. I was told you could help me with a dilemma."

"And what would that be?"

"You're a quilter, correct?"

"Yesss." The word eked out of her mouth, struggling for a reference point. "I'm sorry, but - "

"Oh, I apologize. I am a friend of Helen Trotter. We work together at the center. She said I might find you over here. I need something made for one of the kids."

"Ah." Her small frame settled back into its supple posture.

Throttling himself, trying not to impose for long, "Do you have a card?"

"Oh, uh. No." I really should get one.

He grabbed a pen from his jacket pocket and hesitated, "Well, I don't have any paper but if you could - "

In unison, they both offered, "Write it on a napkin!"  A shared giggle.

She wrote down her phone number and email address, careful not to tear the fragile paper.

He realized his forwardness. "I don't mean to be presumptuous. It's just that Helen said you take odd quilting jobs here and there."

"Only very odd ones," she said with playful wryness, handing the dark-haired fellow the napkin. It was that wafting of air that culled the hint of aftershave her way. How traditional for such a young one. He can't be more than 35? "It's quite alright. I look forward to discussing it when you have the time."

Max shook her hand with a warm smile, ebbed back with an extra thought or two, decided to leave them for another time and wished her a good day.

Alexis noted his confident walk. He was a nice man too.

She glanced back at the window. It was fogged up. How embarrassing.

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To be continued.....
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