Coffee for two 1.0

Aurora IL

Description

This is the best part of my week. The time I have to myself. The time I can be with my own thought and I don’t have to answer to anybody. Ironically, as much as I cherish this time to myself, I am not alone. I share this time with a very diverse group of people. People who are here and not here. People who speak volumes about themselves without saying a word. People who have become an integral part of my life and yet mean nothing at all. I try to think of when this all started, when we all came together, but I truly don’t remember. One day they were just there. The one thing I do remember, was her. The day she walked in. I will never ever forget that. It’s start as it always does, as it has for the past months and year. I starts with the click of a lock. The lock on the front door of the dinner. It’s 5:30 am and as always, I’m the first one here. Well beside Judy and Ernesto. But they are always here. Hell, as far as I know they sleep in the back. What I know for certain is that they are the only two with real names. Everyone else, the others I share this time with, I’m sure they have real names but I only know them by the names I have given them. Judy, as she always does, simply unlocks the door and walks away. I have my ear buds in so I pull the door open and enter. A simple nod to Judy and Ernesto is all I have every given and turn and walk to my usual booth. A single empty cup occupies the table as always. I slide in and before I can get settled, Judy Is already filling my cup. I pull out my pad and do what I always do after the gym, relax and read. I can almost literally set the atomic clock buy what happens next. I can tell by the way the door opens and the way that he walks that the hitman is here. He’s not a real hitman but for some reason, to me, he looks the type. Slacks and a button up shirt with a tie. A green shirt today. The colors change but what never changes is his razor sharp appearance. Everything about him is methodical and neat and perfectly in place. While I sit in booth off to the side with a good view of the whole dinner. He sits at a small table in the back with his back to the wall. Always looking like he’s waiting for someone to walk in of for something to happen. Again, as always, he rearranges the items on the table. I never really paid that much attention to what he puts where, but everything is orientated at right angles. Many times I have watch him place the napkin holder and silverware and condiments and shakers in a this perfect pattern. Making micro adjustments that mean something very important to him. I have no idea why he does this, but it has to be perfect. Judy knows this to due to the fact that she moved something once. She got a look that anyone would remember for a very long time and since then, all she does is fill his coffee. Cream only, and as with me, she lets him be. Always next is the bag lady. Again, not literally a bag lady, but she got this name because of the huge bag she always has with her. It may or may not contain everything she own, but from my simple observations, i think it’s bottomless. She’s an older woman that carries a bit of extra weight so it takes her a while to get to her booth on the adjacent wall. Waking at her own pace, her bag dings every chair in her path. The chairs are never moved that much, but enough that Judy will straighten them when she makes her rounds with the pot. She arrives at her table and goes through her routine. It usually takes her five minutes or so to get settled as she pulls out all her trinkets and such. Little stuffed pets, an picture of who I assume is her late husband. Some hand made figurines which must have been made by grandkids and always some kind of needle point project. Unlike the hitman, their is no real pattern to what she does or where she places this or that. She settles in with her tea, and continues where she left off with her project. Keep in mind, This all happens in silence. Meaning, no one has uttered a single word. Everyone gets the same thing, every week. Judy accommodates our needs and goes back to her tasks of setting tables and rolling up silverware. A few minutes later, right on cue, the wanderer walks in. As before and as always, he walks in like he has never seen this place before. He looks as if he was just walking down the sidewalk and at the last moment, decided to have a meal. He stands in the entryway and scans the room. He always takes a moment to absorb all the information before he takes a particular interest in the desert cabinet. He looks at every item as if it were a work of art in a museum. Now, he never gets one but he always looks. After examining the delicate treats, he takes his usual seat at the counter. I believe this man has some kind of complex because he gets the same meal every week. Eggs over easy, hash browns, sausages links and coffee in a glass. That’s right, in a glass. The thing that make me believe he has a complex is that he makes Judy write it out every week. Even the glass part. And she has to do it while he watches. She once jotted it down before he got there and I thought he was going to have an aneurysm when she presented it to him. She quickly toss it into a waste basket and as he likes, took the order word for word as he dictated. I don’t think it bothered her too much and the man seems harmless. I’m sure she has had plenty of truly unruly guests in the past so dealing with this is nothing. Judy takes his order on auto pilot and clips it to the wheel for Ernesto to fill. He never has to look and I’m sure with knowing the wandering man’s tendencies, he waits until he is presented the actual order before he fills it. At that’s it, that all of us. For the past several months nothing has changed. We go about the hour or so we spend together as we always have. Never talking, hardly ever making eye contact and just doing what we do. It’s perfect. Well…..It was perfect till today. It was perfect untill her walked in. I know proper grammar dictates “she”, but I gave her the name “her” because she became so disruptive that everything ended up being her fault. It’s all her fault. Everything is her fault. I’m so glad I meet her……………