Just Coffee

Some days you really just want your coffee. Just a bit of salty language.

 

     Trish Holcomb slammed the door of her Raven Black colored 2007 Escalade and stormed up the incline on Kenmore Avenue towards the Kenmore St Diner. It was a typical hole in the wall diner, but it was on the way to Corporate Headquarters and she could usually get a good cup of coffee in a hurry there. Even in her crackling rage, there was a model's grace to her gait. The bouncing clip-clop of her designer shoes echoed through the early morning fog that shrouded the empty street. It was only 6:57am and already her day had gone to s**t. She was up all night, first waiting for her b*****d husband to come home, then tearing him a new a*****e. Randy, her private investigator had delivered the bad news that Trevor was screwing around on her. She didn't want to believe it, but the photos were in a manila envelope, sitting on the seat of the big SUV. On top of all of that, she had to park two f*****g blocks away from the Goddamn diner to buy a cup of coffee.

 

 

     Once inside, things didn’t get any better. The place was near packed and Carol, the waitress, was swamped. She was out of coffee and was only now starting a new pot. With great exasperation, Trish finally gave in and slumped down onto a stool at the counter to wait for Carol to get to her. The aroma of bacon and sausage cooking wasn’t helping. It cramped her stomach with snarling pangs of hunger driving her misery to near biblical proportions. Fate, in a final act of torment, threw Trish yet another tribulation in the form of Kenny, a filthy wisp of a man who radiated an odious blend of cigarettes and sour milk. As she’d taken a seat by the door, she got the full affect of his most repugnant bouquet almost immediately.

 

     “Morning Carol.” He boomed across the little diner as he leaned on the counter next to Trish, who was struggling mightily to control the retching that seized her stomach.

 

     “Hi Kenny!” Carol answered.

 

     “Is Bryan here yet?”

 

     “No Honey, he hasn’t come in yet. Sit down; I’ll get you some coffee while you wait." She bubbled. As Kenny surveyed the diner, so did Trish. Much to her horror, there were no empty tables, so Kenny sat on the stool right next to her. He caught her glance in his periphery and turned to Trish with a welcoming smile.

 

     “Good morning.” He said

 

     “Hello!” Trish grudgingly returned his greeting, hoping like Hell he’d get the f*****g hint. She was about to tell Carol she couldn’t wait anymore when Carol turned and looked past her to the door.

 

     “There he is Kenny, hey Bryan, how’s it going?”

 

     “It’s going great. I’m fabulous.” Came the reply from by the door behind Trish.

 

     Before Trish turned she smelled the aroma of Armani cologne. It was a blessed relief to her that anything would overpower Kenny’s aura. She was even more pleasantly surprised when she turned around to see the dashing young man arrayed in a spectacular Canali suit and glistening Bruno Magli Sassari shoes. He was tall, lean and young, and his eyes twinkled with a love of life that Trevor’s eyes used to betray when he looked at Trish. If she wasn’t so damned pissed, she might have had time to flirt with him. But by now, she was more perplexed than she was pissed. This was the Bryan that the disgusting tramp was waiting for? Trish was dumbfounded. When Carol brought her coffee she motioned for Carol to lean closer. She nodded towards the table near the back where Kenny and Bryan were smiling and waiting for the elderly couple that was getting up to leave.

 

     “What the hell are they meeting for? What could those two men possibly have in common?”

 

     Before Carol could answer, Johnny the owner, who also happened to do all the cooking, called her to pick up an order.

 

     “Wait right here.” Carol said. “I’ll be right back”

 

     But the diner got a bit busy, and Carol ended up running around for about fifteen minutes. No matter, Trish was captivated watching the two men talking like long lost friends and she forgot for a while that she was in a hurry. Before Carol could get back to her, Kenny got up and headed for the door. He smiled the warmest of smiles as he and his stench passed her on the way out the door. He turned and waved as he left and shouted across the Diner.

 

     “Goodbye Carol.”

 

     “Take care, Kenny.” She returned the goodbye with a wave as she headed back towards Trish.

 

     “That’s Kenny. Nobody knows his last name. He started to come in about a year ago. He liked to come here to stay warm when winter came. I’d keep his coffee cup full each morning, so Johnny wouldn’t kick him out into the cold. On February 9th he brought Bryan in and they sat and had coffee. Bryan didn’t look so good that day. His hair was a wreck, his suit was torn and dirty and he only had one shoe on. I heard bits and pieces of their conversation. Kenny had been coming for coffee when he happened upon Bryan. Bryan was on the bridge over the river and was in the process of jumping, he'd just lost his job. Kenny talked to him for an hour and a half until he finally came in off the bridge. Then he brought him in here for coffee. Eventually the police found them here and arrested Bryan, they needed to get him into protective custody. They’d responded to a 911 call and some people who saw the whole thing told them that Kenny had talked Bryan into coming in here for a coffee. Kenny got the cops to let him ride with Bryan to keep him calm. Since then, they’ve met here on the 9th of every month; just so Kenny could talk to Bryan and be sure everything was okay. Things have really gotten better for Bryan, he always tries to give Kenny money, but he never takes it.”

 

     “Wow!” Was all Trish could stammer.

 

     She paid for her coffee and headed back down toward where she’d parked. As she walked the two blocks back to her car, thoughts of Trevor came flooding back. As she tried to put the key in the door her hand shook like a wet Chihuahua, the rage of betrayal reached a new apex within her.

 

     “Are you okay?” Came the voice from the bench on the bus stop behind her. She turned to see Kenny sitting behind her. Before she could answer, he continued. “ I saw you storming up the street when you went into the diner.” He explained. “You were mad as Hell. Then when I passed you at the door, your purse was hanging a little bit open and I saw what you had in there. What’s that; a Glock? That’s a mighty big gun for a little woman like you.”

 

     “I’m fine!” She insisted. “I have to protect myself from skuzzy people like you.” She snapped, turning slightly away from him to hide the tear that hung on the brink of escaping her right eye.

 

     “Will you buy me a cup of coffee? I could really use more coffee and I’m really broke … Please? Just Coffee.” He implored as he gingerly stepped close enough to put his right arm around her shoulders that were now quaking with uncontrollable sobs. “Can I hold this? ... Please?” He asked gently as he carefully took the gun from her purse and slipped it into the pocket of his tattered old overcoat.

 

     "Just Coffee!" He re-assured as he gave her the embrace she'd so desperately needed. She clung to him with all of her being as he patted her softly on her back.

 

     "Just Coffee!" He whispered.

Reviews

[Siobhan MacIntyre]

I KNOW I've reviewed this story before...must have been before your "sabbatical".

Gail & I always helped this homeless Native American man named Emerson. He was our Kenny. He would show up at our door and knock, and would wait patiently while we fixed him sandwiches, or soup-on-the-go, or found warm blankets or clothes or gloves or hats or whatever else he needed to survive. We even spoke with his PO to help him get his probation transferred to New Mexico where his daughter lives.

The point is, the whole time we would be gathering stuff for Emerson, he would be standing outside (or in our living room if it was cold outside), blessing our home and our children, even our cats, in Navajo. His life was in a ditch, he was drinking himself into the grave, and had made mistakes & done time, but what he taught my kids�and Gail & I�about humility, kindness and faith was a greater gift than all the food, clothes, blankets & rides to the mission that we had given him.

Thanks for the reminder, Jerry.

[icelandicblue]

I have learned through my life and had it reinforced by your story that we cannot judge people based on what they look like, lifestyle or socioeconomic standing. There was a homeless guy in Boston just recently who found $40,000 in a satchel and turned it into the police. Someone's entire life savings was in that bag. He was a guy down on his luck but it hadn't erased his dignity nor his humanity. You never know where an act of kindness might come from, maybe from the guy in the tattered clothes and maybe from the guy in the Armani suit. But good deeds really do have the ability of begetting more good deeds We have the saying "Looks can be deceiving" for a reason. I also liked the bigger message about sweating all the small stuff, letting it tie you up in knots only to find out your angst is just a blip on the radar and that the suffering around us is big, deep and powerful. This is a wonderful story CSG.

[Creepy Swine Guy]

:^) Thank you ma'am.

[Writer CW Kirkland]

This basis of this story was very good, and I liked the characters. You did a great job with some of the details (i.e., Before Carol could answer, Johnny the owner, who also happened to do all the cooking, called her to pick up an order.) There are some grammar errors throughout the writing though. For example, "there was a models grace to her gait" should have the possessive sense (model's). Also, the structure of your dialogue should read like this: "Good morning," he said.

Thank you for sharing your writing on The Cafe! Best wishes.

[alternative_be]

This story is a perfect example of why you should never judge a leopard by it's spots!
Do not judge people by their appearance or their 'smelly' clothes. Do not be a judge of fancy clothes, the person who wears them might just have the personality of a coathanger! Always try to be the best judge of character that you can be.
Do I ever give money to homeless people? Yes I do. Did I ever buy a homeless person a coffee? Yes I did. Will it solve the structural problem: no. At the other hand, I do not walk away from misery and maybe, just maybe, I made someone feel more human for a moment ...
After all, we do call ourselves humans, don't we? Well, let us start by treating humans as humans!

[AnneCamden]

I liked this very much. It grabbed my attention before the 1st paragraph ended and never let go. I could feel her frustration, have felt her frustration. Sometimes it's easier to focus on something you think you may have a better chance of controlling, obtaining a cup of coffee, rather than think about that which can't be so easily controlled.

[Rain]

I loved this. You did a killer job making me see, smell and feel the diner. Your plot caught me right away, and the characters were real. You probably could have pulled this off with just a couple profanities, because you were doing great exposing her mood. Still, they didn't seemed overly forced. This is my kind of writing. I will be back. 100%. Rain..

[TL Boehm]

wow, this really is an incredible story - it just sneaks up on you and demands that your stoney heart soften. Or at least it demanded that my heart soften. well written - even with the coarse language this thing is honest, inescapable - solid storytelling.

[Vonnette]

Creepy Blue Guy....I love a story with a twist. I find the reviews almost as interesting as the story. This story had something for everyone to identify with. The woman scorned, the homeless guy, the unexpected hero. I just liked the way it read. I also like that one act of kindness can change someone's entire life. Nice.

I like the references to coffee here, and I know damnw ell how that feels!
I love the way that you use the term "days gone to s**t"
I've used that countless times!
good write! :) xx

[Emily B]

We always expect to help the odiferous, scraggly one in a story like this. I'm very impressed that Kenny was the hero of this story.

[Emily B]

it was good to come back to this

[Eme Savage]

Having been cheated on by my exhusband, I know how this feels. Not that I felt murderous per se. I did feel anger, betrayal, and this horrible black despair. Maybe you can pull more on these emotions? Bring us deeper in to her inner world? Other than that I think it was a good story. The descriptions are good and I like the concept. I think you can go deeper with this.