Cheesy Rider

“Armand, I make the BEST grilled cheese sandwich that you will ever eat” said Vince as he sipped his coffee.

“How do you know it’s the best?” Armand looked skeptical, “It’s just bread and cheese, right?”

“Yes”.

“Anything else?”

“Well butter. But I use good cheese and I like to use French bread from the bakery”.

“So that’s the big secret, good bread, good cheese and butter? Anyone could make that. My cat could probably make that if I put the ingredients in a panini maker he could press the lever and voila, the greatest grilled cheese ever”.

“And …my super-secret ingredient” smirked Vince.

“What’s that. Love?” Armand said in a mocking tone dragging out the word love.

“No… Bacon. All things are made better with bacon. Do you know what goes best with bacon? I’ll spare you the suspense. More bacon!” Vince busted out in a laugh.

“Man. That’s not a grilled cheese sandwich then. That’s a grilled bacon and cheese sandwich. Dude, you need to write something. Your mind is going soft sitting in that window day after day”.

Vince sat at his usual table in at the East Side Café. It was his spot, and he wrote there most every day. He always imagined it being like the La Closerie Des Lilas in Paris where Hemingway, Wilde, Fitzgerald and numerous other great authors would hang out and exchange ideas and manuscripts. But in reality, it was quiet and quaint and Armand, the barista didn’t care if he sat in the window all day because it gave the impression that the place was busy even when it wasn’t.

He was mired in a writing funk. He was so stuck on his main story that he started writing another one and to that he added a couple of short stories. ‘Write every day’ that was his motto. He had once been to a talk given by Stephen King who said that when he is writing, he tried to write six pages a day. Vince was at the point where he was happy to get six paragraphs on some days.

The waitress was a tall thin blonde named Kat. She had a cool artsy vibe about her and had awesome tattoo sleeves of koi fish on both arms. She had dated a tattoo artist who specialized in traditional Japanese designs and the work was amazing. Whenever she poured him another cup of coffee, he would lose himself in waves crashing over the colorful fish.

He had thought about asking her out on a date, but she was dating some monumental douchebag name Chad who lived in the gym and wore t-shirts two sizes too small. Chad had a habit of coming in and copping a feel whenever no other customers were in the café and it made Vince feel awkward since he was actually a customer, but Chad regarded him no more than as if he had been a houseplant in the window to give the place a homey look. He’d kiss her neck and squeeze her ass cheek and she would make a face like she was completely uncomfortable, but his dull mind didn’t allow him to pick up on social cues like the rest of the world.

A Chad is the male version of a Karen he thought. Had he ever met a person named Chad who wasn’t a complete tool? He could only think of one Chad that he had actually known, and that guy was a jerk and a hometown football star too so maybe there was something to it. But a sample of two is hardly a valid study.

He resolved that Kat and he would do best as friends with him initiating small talk and her pouring his coffee. Besides, he had a new infatuation. A new neighbor in his building who he had not yet tried to talk to.

Part of the great thing about the café was its view of his apartment building. He could see who came and went and whenever the UPS or FedEx guys might show up with his on-line deliveries. Since the COVID pandemic, he had condensed his world to the block of stores around his apartment. He worked and made a tolerable living as a writer and a tutor which was all remote, so he really didn’t need to venture far from home. There was a park at the edge of his block, and he tried to spend a few hours a week there to ensure that he would get enough vitamin D that his bones wouldn’t become soft.  

He was giving up for the day and started packing up his laptop to head home for lunch when he saw her. The new neighbor. A. Prescott. He didn’t know her first named only that it began with an A. He shoved his items into his satchel and whipped it over his shoulder. He threw a $10 bill on the table and hurried for the door.

“Kat! Armand! I’ll see you in the morning!” and bolted out the café door and across the street to reach the door to the building in time to open it for her. He hadn’t anticipated how deconditioned his condensed life had made him and tried to catch his breath before she reached the door.

He smiled and panted and opened the door, “Miss Prescott”.  

Allana gave him a puzzled look, “Do I know you?”

“Oh no, not yet. I live in this building, and I saw your name on the intercom buzzer. A. Prescott” pointing to the name label “I’m not a stalker or anything. Although, I guess a stalker might say that, but I’m not one. I’m a writer and a tutor”.

“I’m Allana. Is that what you do in the café? Write? I see you there every day”.

“Well yes, I try to write every day, but I don’t always succeed”.

“Have you written anything that I would know?”

“Do you read historical fiction mostly set in medieval or Victorian Europe?”

“No. That sounds absolutely dreadful”.

“Oh” Vince looked at the ground dejected, trying to think of something clever to say which led to an odd silence.

Allana laughed, “I’m just teasing you. I like all books, but truly, I don’t typically read that genre. However, I’d read about aliens shopping at the mall if it was a good story”.

Vince smiled “I think that they are good. They have intrigues and violence and romance and violence. I mention it twice because those really were violent times”.

“Is it realistic though? That is a total pet peeve of mine. I want anything historical to be realistic. Last year there was a series of books that were all the rage, a “must read” set in the 1800’s and the cast of characters was like a rainbow coalition, and I felt like the author was pandering to the diversity and inclusion sect. Don’t get me wrong, I want the diversity in books, but let’s tell it like it was. I think that it denigrates the struggles of those groups to cast them as lords when in actuality they were rarely allowed in the lord’s house”.    

“I agree. I spend a ton of time fact checking every detail because there is nothing that kills a book faster for me than anachronisms. It maybe fiction, but it doesn’t have to be make believe to satisfy social climates”.

Allana looked at him with a measuring look “Okay, I’ll give one of your books a try. Do you have one handy?”

“I have some in my apartment. I’m just down the hall from you. I’m 6F you’re 6B right”?

“That’s right. Are you certain that you’re not a stalker?” she smiled.

“I am a writer and I’ve trained myself to try to see everyone and everything that I can. You never know what little detail is going to spark an idea that turns into a character, that turns into chapter that becomes a book”.

She nodded “I suppose that’s true. I am a mediation and yoga instructor and I spend all of my time trying to get people to block all of that out and focus on their own serenity”.

Vince was gaining a comfort with her and started to feel more daring “I guess it’s true, opposites attract”.

“Who said anything about attracting, I’m just getting a book and I don’t even know your name. Shall I call you 6F?”

“Oh my God, what a dork you must think I am. Vincent Gallant is my name, but please just call me Vince”.

They were in luck that the elevator was working today. The building was built in the 1920’s and although it had a beautiful lobby with ornate trim and boasted an elevator, it seemed to be broken down about 100 days a year. This forced the tenants to have to climb up to seven flights of stairs if they lived on the top floor. In general Vince didn’t mind it unless it was grocery day or a day with heavy packages. It really sucked after he had COVID because his breathing wasn’t right for months after he was “over it”. Fortunately, it was only down a couple of times during that period.

Vince looked at Allana “Have you had to take the stairs much since moving in?”

“No but I was so worried because they were fixing it on the morning that I was supposed to move in. Thankfully it was working by the time my belongings arrived because I doubt the moving guys were going to carry everything up six flights of stairs”.    

The elevator door opened on the sixth floor and Vince extended his hand to let her off first and followed her out, “I’m down here” and he started toward he door with his keys in his hand. He opened the door and they stepped into the tiny apartment. “They are small apartments, but they are easy to heat”.

Allana scanned the apartment. It was spartan in nature. Minimal furniture and very neat. The most prominent feature was the bookshelf filled with books. Vince walked over and pulled one from the shelf and brough it to her. The title read “The Keepers of the Light” by V.J. Gallant.

“Wow I know an actual published author. I’ll give it a read this weekend”.

“That would be great. This one is about a knight in the crusades with Richard the Lionheart, if you hate it, let me know and I can give you something more Victorian”.

“Okay”. Allana smiled and was turned for the door.

“Wait! I was just going to make some lunch. Would you like to join me? I make the BEST grilled cheese sandwich that you will ever eat”.   

“What makes it the best grilled cheese ever? It’s just bread and cheese, right?”

“And… my secret ingredient…Bacon”.

Allana looked at Vince studying him carefully, smiled and said “I like bacon. Sure”.