All She Ever Wanted

The line at the coffee shop snaked through the tables and chairs all the way to the door. Tara walked to the front, and when she arrived the person next in line turned to her. 

“Hey, go ahead of me. I can see you’re in a rush.”

No murmur of dissent came from behind. Tara thanked him and put in her order.

Walking from the cash register with her coffee, a man stood up from his table. “Here, take mine. I’ve been here a while and you look like you need a seat.”

She smiled her thanks and settled in.

The ladies speaking loudly at the next table quieted down. The guy barking obnoxiously at someone through his phone stopped and apologized to the person on the other end of the call. A young man across the room sprung from his seat to help an older woman navigate the door. And every customer started leaving generous tips, throwing caution to the wind and cheer into the air as they signed their receipts with relish and emptied money they didn’t need into the tip jar.

When Tara finished her coffee she cleared her table and walked to her appointment. 

She arrived on time but found them already waiting at the long table. She had the papers ready, even though they had said they would never sign. They stood to greet her. 

When they all sat down she explained it to them, not that she needed to— but it was the right thing to do. She shouldn’t have had to make time for this but she may as well do it right. She made sure they signed the papers before she left. She secured them in her briefcase.

She hurried now. She had scheduled her appointments a bit tightly today, but the traffic stopped as she crossed the street and the crowd parted to let her pass. So she made it, just a minute late.

The maitre’d pointed her in the right direction and as she approached the table she saw everyone else was seated. It was a small group— she had to keep it small so Harriet would stay with her. Harriet was the most important piece but the others brought their own talents. Harriet, cantankerous retired schoolteacher and closet philanthropist, donated hugely and anonymously. She was a bit of a unicorn: a completely unspoiled, under the radar trust fund baby. George, younger than Harriet and semi-retired, had tons of flair and a good heart, but was a showy philanthropist who did nothing good in secret. He would always help if he was sure to have his name splashed somewhere. Bernice, young and beautiful, tried to fill her time with superficial hobbies sprinkled with a few that seemed meaningful— this qualified as one of those. And Paul, who originally kept popping up because he wanted to ask Tara out, now seemed to be staying on and hopefully shifting his sights to Bernice. Paul was an excellent accountant and a whiz at all the logistics George and Bernice tended to ignore.

She had told them all they could bring a friend today but she saw only Bernice had done so. Not surprisingly, Bernice’s guest was good looking, the dark movie star type Bernice always gravitated towards. Tara wondered why Bernice brought him, and secretly hoped he was another Harriet. She wasn’t ready for another Bernice or George, and they really didn’t need another Paul.

They all stood as Tara approached. She greeted them all, then introduced herself to the stranger.

“Hi, I’m Tara, thank you for coming today.” As she met his eyes, she had to admit Bernice had hit the nail on the head with this one. He was quite a Twinkie.

He nodded, gripping her hand firmly as he replied. “No problem, I’ve been looking forward to it.” He paused and flashed a smile that somehow bordered on laughter. “I’m Owen, friend of Bernice’s.” Bernice’s face twitched a little at the introduction.

Tara nodded. “Well we’re happy you came. Please everyone be seated.”

She learned first courses had already been ordered. The kitchen put her order on a rush so it could join the others. She crossed her ankles and sipped her tea, as there was nothing she wanted more right now than to listen to them talk. It was fun, and followed a pattern.

Harriet would have a new cause. George and Bernice would quickly jump on, and one or both of them would sponsor a party, but they would call it a gala or a ball. George loved to plan these things (the broad strokes) and Bernice loved finding a new dress to wear to them. Paul inevitably would be stuck with the logistical tasks, and Harriet would end up having nothing to do with it—she hated donating money to fund a party, what a waste. But she would secretly outdo them all with her anonymous gift, invariably with instructions that it go only to the beneficiaries, not party expenses. 

Tara was really just a facilitator. She trusted Harriet to tell them what cause needed help, George and Bernice to gather a crowd, Paul to cover the basics. Tara just made sure that everyone who showed up wanted very much to give as much as they could afford. And that they wrote their checks before they left.

Tara found herself interested to see if Owen sat back or found a role. Was he a tagalong or an instigator? And did he care about anything, or was he just here to witness Bernice’s altruism? 

So far he seemed impervious to Bernice, who constantly threw him glances— hopeful, coy, amused, intelligent. It was all rather amusing as Owen ignored it all and Tara found herself wanting to know why he was here, if not for Bernice. What did he do? 

She wanted to know. The conversation quieted.

“So Owen, what do you do?”

Everyone looked at her with a little shock, Harriet’s shock mixed with amusement and Paul’s with satisfaction. But why was she supposed to know what Owen did? She was positive he had not yet mentioned an occupation.

“I play baseball.”

“Oh. For a living?”

He smiled. “Yes, for a living.”

She nodded, wanting the conversation to resume, so it did. And she wondered why anyone at this table would be at all surprised she didn’t know that. She didn’t watch sports often. It did explain why his arms looked so powerful, though. Again she wondered why he was here. He leaned forward and spoke just to her.

“I have a bit of a bad reputation right now. Bernice thought this group and I might do each other some good.”

Tara raised her eyebrows. 

“Her dad owns my team. He told me to appear, but I kindly agreed.”

Tara nodded. Not very impressive. But if he played for Tara’s dad, then he was a Major League Baseball player. So at least he could donate some cash. Did she imagine a smirk flash across his face?

“So are you going to improve your reputation with time or with money?” She couldn’t decide which one she preferred herself. 

He shrugged. “It’s not me that’s worried about it. I just thought this might be interesting. So far, I figure Harriet’ll tell me where to put my money. And you can tell me if you want me or not.”

Tara blushed, wondering what he meant or didn’t mean by that. She tilted her head, not sure exactly what she did want from him. Wants were so fleeting, and she had them all. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Well, I do want you to give all you can to Harriet today. She’s very good at allocating resources responsibly.”

Owen nodded. “I’ll think about it, but I have my own causes too.”

Tara startled. And he shook his head. She was too surprised to say anything else, so everyone started talking to cover the silence.

Tara sat a little straighter and leaned in a little more. She felt his eyes trained on her as they all worked through the courses. He was silent and she felt vulnerable. She was not used to being observed by someone untethered by her wants.

By the end of lunch the broad strokes were outlined and the tasks allocated. George paid the bill, and they all departed with cheek kisses and half hugs. 

Bernice and Owen were just a few steps behind Tara as they exited. Tara waved her goodbyes, relieved to be escaping his company. She walked in the direction of her next appointment and pushed him from her mind. Though she had always figured she would someday run into someone who wasn’t susceptible, it had never happened before. It was intriguing but disconcerting. 

She heard footsteps jogging up behind her and was surprised at the jolt when he touched her shoulder. 

“Tara.”

He did have a nice voice. And he was so nicely put together. She wished he was normal, so she could want something from him with no uncertainty. She ignored the uncertainty, which was manifesting as an unfamiliar swirling in her midsection. She turned to him and held his eyes expectantly, but not knowing what to expect.

He smiled at her. “I want to ask you out.” 

The uncertainty jumped, jolting her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. She was not at all sure she wanted him to ask her out. And she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to say yes. She also wasn’t sure she wanted to say no. She felt adrift realizing her wants didn’t really matter here, except to herself. She tilted her head and went with honesty.

“I’m guessing I’m not your usual type. I’m not sure going out with you would be a great idea.”

He smiled. “I think it would be interesting.”

She smiled back at that. Yes, it would probably be interesting. She had a hunch about him. She thought about the conversation at lunch, wondering how exactly he had been earning his bad reputation. She raised her eyebrows.

He nodded. “I take a knee, that’s the main problem. I drive too fast, which doesn’t help. I have the best batting average, so they’re frustrated they can’t just throw me away. I party too much, which I agree isn’t ideal, but what else can you do when you’re not meeting anyone with original thoughts? I have to mill lots of thoughts trying to find some interesting ones... yours are very interesting.”

So she was right. She nodded. But now she knew she did not want to date him. “We could be interesting friends.”

He shook his head. “You just decided you don’t want to date me, so you know that’s not why I’m asking. You also don’t want me to tell you you’re beautiful, because you don’t want to think this is just superficial. You’re not going to negotiate my contracts or fix my reputation, because you don’t want to feel used—”

She interrupted. “You have now named the principal hazard of my particular talent as it interacts with relationships. I fail to see why you persist.”

“You didn’t let me finish. You also feel supremely vulnerable because I won’t do what you want me to do, but for that same reason, I am the one guy who can make you free.”

Her mouth opened in protest, but he raised his hands. “I’m just trying to persuade you. Because I hear way too much. There’s a lot of deception in most heads, and a lot more emptiness than you’d imagine… But not yours. I want to hear more from you.”

He stopped talking, and they stood there. Her thoughts darting as she tried to settle on a decision, and his face clearly reacting to her thoughts. 

He reached for her elbow and leaned in to kiss her. She leaned into him too. 

And when he pulled back she did not want to let go.

He smiled, and answered her unspoken thought. “I don’t want you to let go either.”