Coffee Talk

I was at a coffee shop, minding my own, and I couldn't help but overhear a conversation close to me. This was the result of that eavesdropping.

 

 

 

 

        The sound of mixed voices traveled in one ear, banged around inside for a moment, and went straight out the other side. People hurried by, talking into their cell phones, or looking at the ground that lay in front of their next step. Weary eyes careful not to meet those of another approaching from the opposite direction. Tables lined the sidewalk with umbrellas impaled through the center, creating shade for the comfort of those sitting beneath them. Of course, the sky-bound buildings on each side of the street blocked out the sun this time of day anyway, but it gave birth to the false illusion of comfort and security.
        People of all types sat at the tables, drinking their expensive coffees and talking with friends and co-workers until their thirty minutes of lunch was up, and they had to rush back to the big office buildings to please the even bigger heads of the people who ran them.
       Five minutes until one. If you look around, you’ll see people in suits power walking towards the towers that make this city, looking at their watches and increasing their speed and stress levels with every glance. Taxi horns that never stop their endless chatter, busses stopping and going every hundred feet, being careful not to forget to leave huge bursts of thick black smoke every time they move. It’s the same scene that will be found this time tomorrow, with different faces doing the same things.
       Today however, would turn out to be a much different day in the life of Alex Danbury. Here at one of these tables, after paying almost three dollars for a medium cup of coffee (which bore a similar taste to dish water with a dash of sugar) he would see the world as a bigger, brighter place. The little things in life really would make a difference, and he would swear off coffee for the rest of his life. Someone, somewhere had told him caused cancer anyway, so it was probably for the best.

A skinny, tall blonde woman placed a wax coated paper cup down on the table, and sat in a chair next to Alex. She was wearing a red and white plaid overcoat, covering a plain white blouse underneath, with a matching shin length skirt. She placed a mid sized purse between her feet, and clutched them together to hold it in place. This time of day was always busy for any crowded business, and sitting with strangers during lunch was just something you had to get used to. “You mind your business, I’ll mind mine” was the way it worked, and most people stuck to it as a rule. Her eyes had the bright look of someone who has finally found what she was looking for right under her nose, and was matched by a healthy, but not overbearing red flush to her cheeks.

A man pulled her chair out for her, and then sat down next to her. His hair looked well kept, with not a touch of gray showing for someone who was obviously middle-aged, and his clothing spoke volumes of just how much he was willing to spend to be highly fashionable. There was that feeling in the air around him, that feeling that says, “Oh, I’m confident all right. Things will turn out the way I want them to. Don’t you know who I am?”
       “I’ve made up my mind,” she said. “I’m going to tell Peter tonight. It will be over between us, and we can finally start this off the right way. These last few months, I’ve felt so guilty about keeping it all from him. I still don’t plan to tell him everything, of course. I don’t know if he would even notice anyway. I don’t think he even knows if I still exist or not, sometimes. I can’t live like this with him anymore. He’s not the man I married, and I can’t even remember the last time I saw him sober.”
       “Well, good. You deserve someone so much better than that, Lizzy, and I’m positive that I can be that person for you. You know I’ll take care of you the way a woman should be,” he replied, staring into her eyes. “How anyone could treat a woman like he has treated you is beyond my comprehension. It should be a crime.”
       Alex was looking casually over the newspaper he was reading, unable to help himself from eavesdropping. It was something he had done his whole life, curiosity always winning the battle over manners. He noticed that the man sitting across from this so-called “Lizzy” was actually not looking right into her eyes, but rather through them, into some distant land beyond. He could also see him flicking his thumbnail with the top of his index finger, the sort of thing people do when they are bored or waiting for something. Alex thought this was a pretty sure sign that this man was clearly thinking about something else. But the direction of his “gazing” eyes, however, stayed true. Deception can sometimes be an easy art.
       “That’s what I’ve always wanted, Mike. I knew this was the right thing to do, and meeting you was all it took to show me that. That’s why I love you.”
       “I know you do,” rolled off of Mike’s tongue with no effort at all.
       Alex looked back to Mike, thinking that he had probably said this to hundreds of girls in his lifetime, each one a lie.
       “Elizabeth,” a third voice spoke.
       There was a man standing behind her to the right side. His eyes looked heavy, and his face was flushed deep red. He had a mustache, and an unkempt beard. He was slightly heavyset, and stood with the slump of a very tired man. A man who is both mentally and physically exhausted. He was wearing a brown jacket of some material that was supposed to resemble leather, but clearly wasn’t to anyone who cared to look twice. He also was wearing blue jeans that were covered in dirt and automobile grease.
       “Peter! Why aren’t you at work? What are you doing downtown?”
       “Did you just tell that man that you loved him? Did she just tell you that she loved you?” he asked the man sitting next to her, and then to Alex, “Did she really say that?”
       “I didn’t say.. love who? Wh-what are you ta-” Mike cut her off before she could finish.

       “Who exactly are you, sir?” Ignoring the fact that Liz had clearly spoken his name when she saw him.
       “That’s not what I asked you. I asked you what she just said to you. Did she just tell you that she loved you, or not?”
       Alex started to push his chair back, meaning to stand up and leave this squabble to those involved. This was all somebody else’s business.
       “Sit down,” Peter said to him.
       “Uh, hey, I don’t know either of these two people. I was just sitting here drinking my coffee and reading the paper, and they sat at the table with me. I don’t want any trouble. I’ve never seen either of these people before, and I really have to get back to work,” Alex replied, but was sitting down again regardless.
       “Is that true?” Peter asked, seemingly to no one in particular.
       Both Liz and Mike nodded their heads, confirming this.
       “Lucky you,” Peter said to Alex, and turned back to Mike. “Now, answer my question. Did she or did she not tell you she loved you?”
       “I’m not going to tell you a thing until you tell me who you are. You can’t just barge over here and start asking my girlfriend questions that are none of your concern. Who do you think you are?” That air of confidence started to surround him again.
       “I am her husband. Did she tell you she was married?” He turned to Liz. “Did you tell him you were married? Does he know you are my wife?”
       “Whoa, whoa.. Hold on a minute here,” Mike said, and put his hands to his temples, the way people who feign comprehension do when something striking presents itself. Turning to Elizabeth, he changed his facial expression from confidence to complete astonishment. “You’re MARRIED? You never told me you were married! All this time you were...”

       Alex was looking at all three of them in turn, following the conversation. He knew Mike was lying through his teeth, first of all. He also knew that less than two minutes ago, she most certainly had said that she loved him. He wanted to interject; to call the weasel out of his hole… but this was none of his business, and better left to those involved. He decided to keep it that way.
       “But Michael! You’ve known since.. but... Peter is.. Peter, I never!” She turned to Mike; her eyes now full with tears waiting to spill out. “I thought we agreed that we would.. Why are you ly-” Liz started, but Mike cut her off before she could finish.
       “How could you?” His voice sounded like a dagger. He had raised it, but not enough to be yelling. “How could you do such a thing? I trusted you!”
       “Peter! I didn’t... I was just.. I... Mike was...”

       Michael stood up and turned to Peter. “Sir, she did just tell me that she loved me, but I assure you, she never told me anything about being married. I’ve been seeing her for a few months. I’d rather be completely honest with you, and save the both of us any more trouble or lies. This woman rightfully belongs to you, and I have no business with her knowing that,” He put his hands up, as if trying to indicate he was out of this, that this was no longer his problem. He turned to Liz again and repeated, “How could you?”
       Liz was totally lost now, looking between the two of them, and was talking in bursts and stops, none of it making any sense at all.
       Peter slumped even further, if it were possible, and let out a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, and squeezed his thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose. He seemed about to cry. Then he opened his eyes and stood up straight, eliminating his previous slouch. He looked fully determined. He reached behind his waist, and when his hand returned, it held a black pistol, touched with chrome. He pointed it down at his wife.
       “Peter!” She shrieked, and her eyes flew wide open. She started to stand up.
       The pistol in Peter’s hand went off, emitting a terrifying report that echoed in different time signatures off of the buildings and alleyways. It was followed by the dead silence that breaks out instantly following a loud, unexpected sound. Even the endless horns of the taxicabs seemed to stop for that brief second. The bullet slammed into her cheekbone below her right eye, destroying that section of her face. It exited from behind her left ear, chipping into the sidewalk behind her. She was flung backwards, toppling over the chair she was sitting in. The back of her head hit the ground with a loud crack, and was mixed with the sound of her chair scratching the pavement. People were screaming, the panic from the bystanders finally setting in, but to Alex, everything in the world seemed to be both in slow motion and on mute. He was looking down at Liz. Liz was looking towards the sky with her remaining left eye, and with a finality, the tear that was waiting there earlier finally spilled over and rolled down into her ear, mixing with blood.
       Peter looked to Mike, then to Alex and smiled. He turned, and walked down the street. He took about fifteen steps and stopped. He pulled a flask from the waistband of his pants, and turned it upside down, emptying all of its contents into his stomach. When it was empty, he put it back into his waistband. He put the gun to his own head, and pulled the trigger. The sound this time seemed much quieter, almost muffled, compared to that first crack. He fell over to the sidewalk, and the gun left his hand, skittering away from him on the ground.
       Mike was also staring at Liz now, his eyes like saucers, and he started to tremble. Soon he was shaking uncontrollably, and his breathing became asthmatic. His face had the look of a freshly bleached white sheet.
       Alex could not keep his eyes from looking between the body of the woman who had sat down at his table today, and the husband who had just ended her life and his own. He watched this to the approaching whine of sirens in the distance drawing closer. His last conscious thoughts as the police and paramedics arrived were of Peter taking the time to put the flask back into his waistband. He found it funny in a strange sort of way, the things that people sometimes do before they commit suicide, like the man who puts on his best suit with intention of hanging himself in a few moments. He laughed out loud, sounding more psychotic than humored. Then the world started to blur and wobble, his vision turning to black as he passed out onto the table, spilling his expensive coffee.

Reviews

[Jean Tso]

wow! the moments that seem unfathomable.

[Oliver Jenkins]

Wow! This is beautiful! Amazingly well written. You have single sentences that are better than anything I've every written!