Bitter Truth Cafe

     Joan Taylor stared fixedly out the window of the Man in the Moon cafe. The fear of being stood up for a lunch date would ruffle the feathers of any decent individual, but after arriving 25 minutes early for a lunch date with reservations, Joan was frothing with irritation. The bread rolls no longer puffed with steam and warmth, but were now chilled over with staleness. The casual glances in her direction were now full of whispers and stares of pity. Her waiter, sweet boy, cautiously paced his section of the cafe but didn’t want to feel the wrath of his sour-faced patron. 

     She was waiting for her childhood friend, Bevon Dempsey. She and Bevon left the comforts of suburbia after high school and agreed to make names for themselves; Jonesy through grit and hard work, Bevon with a wink and a smile. It worked out for both of them, in the end; Jonesy with her publishing company and Bevon, a connoisseur of tasteful men’s fashion. Time wouldn’t allow the other to forget their long time friend, even when their worlds clashed so violently it should have erased the past, present, and future of their friendship. 

     Just then the cafe door opened to allow a glamorous man, if that could be the simplest way to describe him, to sashay his way through the door and greet his subjects with a smile. Bevon didn’t ask about a reservation as he was used to just “showing up” at places and being welcomed, regardless of the company being kept. Glancing around the twinkling cafe he found his dear friend, staring him down, a vexed cat waiting for her master to come feed her.

     “Hey, Joan-sy.” Bevon bared his teeth revealing a cheeky grin for his beloved friend.

     “Bevon Dempsey, you’re late. Very late. If I knew this is how you treat your friends then maybe I should have made an appointment as a client.” 

     Joan made a dramatic effort to turn her face up, trying not to let a smile break through. 

     “Oh come on, Joan-sy, don’t be cross with me!”, Bevon smiled wider knowing he’d already won her forgiveness. “I came all the way from across town to see you, and in this weather! Do you know how hard it is to drive a luxury car through this snow?”

     “20 years in this city and you still don’t know how to get around? Pfft, guess you can’t really say you’ve made it, can you, Bev?” 

     Joan summoned her sweet boy waiter whom was finally relieved to be put to use and excited to serve a more charming and inviting face.

     “I’ve made it just fine getting by in this city, Joan-sy,  and I’ve acquired a great deal of wealth and prestige along the way. Can you say the same thing?”

     Without breaking eye contact Bevon ordered a cappuccino, lox and bagels, and a side of fruit. 

      “And...and you ma’am?” Sweet waiter glanced flightingly at Joan not sure if she was as chummy as her companion. 

     “A hot chocolate, please. A stack of pancakes and 2 eggs, scrambled. A side of bacon, turkey.”

     She paused in lofty thought.

     “And blueberry syrup.”

     Sweet waiter almost tripped on his feet, but managed to make it to the back before Joan laid into Bevon.

     “I’ll have you know that not everyone needs to ride around in big fancy cars and rub shoulders with plastic people to find their footing here! I’ve made good friends and strong contacts just by standing at the bus stop and I don’t regret any of it!”

     “Uh huh…” Bevon leaned back in his chair admiring his darling friend who only knew how to scrape and crawl even when life threw her a bone. 

     “I remember,” he started looking slightly above her head, “when we just moved to the city and you were so determined not to accept a helping hand from anyone. This place had so much to give, so much to offer, so much to our advantage! Why, Joan? Why didn’t you become like me and coast through life for a while?”

     “I’m just not like you, Bev. I never could be. I'm just not wired to think that I could get away with the way you could or bolster myself up to do the things you did.”

    Joan remembered coming in from a 12-hour shift and just barely making her share of the rent. Bevon would come home hours into the morning, smelling like the perfume department at Macy’s...and the rent would be paid. Joan couldn’t see herself going to such lengths to make ends meet and her tolerance for such perversion went as far as a hand to her lower back. A move which almost cost her manager his job. 

     “I’m not like you with Joan. I can’t imagine delaying so much of my life’s gratification that I feel like my life is floundering by. But, that’s also why I’ve always kept you close.”

     Joan looked up in bemusement, thinking that Bev felt the opposite. Surprised, truly, that he never just turned tail and ran in the opposite direction as soon they stepped off the bus together. 

     “By watching you and struggle and be torn down just to being yourself back up again you reminded me of what I didn’t want to become. Forgive me, Joan, I know that’s not what you were expecting me to say, but when I stepped foot off the bus I was terrified that I wouldn’t make it and that I’d made a great mistake. But thank you, Joan. Thank you for being the image of what could have been had I taken your path.”