The Meeting Place

The door chime echoed around Mo’s dinner as another customer entered the busy deli. Gordon looked up from his table in anticipation. He had sat in the same spot on the same day, at the same time and waited for his friend, for what must be? Gordon had no idea how long he had been coming here. It had to be a long time, for he had seen original Mo pass his business on to his son, joey, and seen the insides of the shop change colours three times now. But he had still not seen whom he was waiting for.

                  Gordon played with his empty coffee cup as the unfamiliar face of the new customer entered. Checking his watch, he realised it had stopped. He shook it, but nothing. It needed a new battery. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he made a mental note that he had about half an hour to go before he knew they would not be coming today. But, of course, he had no reason to believe they would not turn up; he had known people they had made the same promise to and had turned up. But ten years had to be a record.

                  Many people, no, not many people, everybody would say he was stupid for turning up on the same day at the same time for ten years only to be let down time and time again. Gordon knew, however, if they said they would be here. Ralph had also come into the deli on the same day as Gordon. He had also been told to wait. Ralph, however, had stopped coming in a long time ago.

                  Very few people spoke to Gordon. In fact, very few people even acknowledged he was there. This was New York, the city where everyone kept themselves to themselves. How could so many people live in one place and still feel alone? Gone were the days you could tip your hat and say good morning to someone. If you did that, now, you were likely to be told to “go fuck yourself.”

                  The people who talked to each other yelled, so everyone knew their business. He watched people shout at no one as they spoke to their friends on the other end of their mobile connection and looked at you angrily as if you were the mad one if you stared. It did make him smile when he watched people with bulbous black earplugs shouting. It reminded him of that black lady off Star Trek, with the silver thimble sticking out of her ear. Everyone used to laugh at that, but now it was normal.

                  He checked his watch. Why could he never remember it was stopped? Why did he never remember to get a new battery for it? Looking at the clock on the wall, he had about 20 minutes. The door chime sounded another unfamiliar face again. Wait, no, and he knew this lady; he had seen her a few times, usually with a high scarf and roughly applied makeup to hide the bruises. Today there was no scarf, her makeup was perfect, and she was smiling. That was nice. He hoped her life had turned a corner from the train wreck it was before.

                  A car horn blasted out on the street. Gordon winced, waiting for the screech of tyres that never came. Then, briefly, he was back on the road, frozen to the spot as the car thundered towards him. A look of horror and inevitability as the driver was helpless as the car continued to skid towards Gordon. He sat and closed his eyes. There was no impact, no gut-wrenching pain, just silence.

                  Laughter brought him back to the here and now as three teenagers came in, making fun of each other. Oh, the joys of youth; it was a feeling Gordon had long forgotten. His childhood was not joyful anyway; it was full of grief and abuse. Thankfully, those days were long behind him, and his life had moved on in a happier direction. He absently played with the back of his hand, his skin loose on the bones, pale and cold with age. For a moment, his heart sank with the loss of his youthful energy, how he longed to feel the sun on his own young face again. Those days were long gone.

                  He checked his watch. For god sake, Gordon, it’s not working. You need a new battery. He looked at the wall clock; ten minutes to go. Maybe today, he would wait a bit longer. It was not as if he had anything else to do. In fact, he tried to remember what he usually did after he had finished waiting. There was nothing. How could he not remember what he did? No, wait, the park he would go to the park across the street. That’s where he was going when… he heard the car horn blaring again and the tyres skidding on the tarmac; he shuddered. He remembered lying in the road as people gathered around him to help. The woman’s sweet face smiled down at him. “Grab you’re self a coffee.” She said, pointing at MO’s Diner.

                  Death smiled at Gordon from across the table, the same sweet smile she had for him when he lay in the road. Gordon looked at the door and back to his new table companion. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

                  “Not much use for doors in my line of work.” She said

                  “I have been waiting for some time,” Gordon said, playing with the empty cup.

                  “I know. I am so sorry about that. There was a mix-up after the accident.” She reached across and took his hand. Her touch was colder than anything Gordon had ever felt, but it felt good. Absentmindedly, Gordon checked his watch. He smiled. “I need to get a new Battery for my watch,” He said

        Death laughed, not cruel, but a loving, joyful laugh. “No, Gordon, you don’t,” Death said, and with that, she ended Gordon’s wait.