Getting Coffee

Annie set the porcelain cup back on the dish that accompanied it to her table, the print of her lips visible on the slightly chipped rim. It clinked, just above a whisper, competing with the buzz of chatter around her.

Cicero’s was always busy this time of day, just after morning rush, full of people pretending to meet up to discuss work but haphazardly wandering their way into much more interesting topics, like their children or their weekend plans. Annie did not deign to pretend this was anything close to that. In her oversized heather grey sweatshirt, slight coffee stain just underneath her left boob, hair down in a pile across the same shoulder- she was clearly off today, or unemployed altogether. She wasn’t self-conscious enough to care about the impression of strangers seated around her. The put together woman in high waisted jeans and a crisp white button down, a chignon at her neck and a baby delighting in her attention in the stroller next to her, all while engaging with excitement to her friend across the table might have intimidated Annie in the past. This stranger, who had a new child and still found time to shower and brush her hair must think her a failure to all women everywhere as she took in Annie’s Ugg boots, her cross-body leather bag strung across the back of her chair. It took many years, well into her thirties and just crossing that pivotal forty hash mark for Annie to realize that in reality, no one was actually looking at her anywhere. They were all focused on themselves, their own image, their own perception given to the world. In the rare event they did take her in, no make-up, hair clip attached to the base of her sweatshirt just in case she was in need, she didn’t really care what they assessed of her in her rumpled state.

It occurred to her to care for a moment what Michael might think of her, the whole reason she was out this morning. After more than a decade of friendship, his transparency with her had reached a comfortable pivot to honesty that still had room for kindness.He had no qualms with asking her when the last time she washed that sweatshirt was, while still wearing a pair of track pants and a black t-shirt himself. He wore his glasses with her rather than his contacts because he had no one to impress, only someone to sit back and relax in front of and it was obvious to her that was how he felt the moment he sat across from her whenever they met up.

Today was no exception as she looked up to see his statuesque figure standing in the doorway of Cicero’s, looking around for a moment before settling in on her at her table and dodging strangers to make his way over.

“What the actual fuck, it’s Wednesday. Is no one working?” he breathed out lowly, taking his seat and gazing into her half drunken cup, the delicious foam of her cappuccino always enticing for him to look at but never enough for him to try. In Michael’s opinion, while getting coffee and holding coffee had a fantastic appeal and ritual to it that he wished he could partake in, the taste of everything he had ever tried had left him retching and reaching for a piece of gum.He had tried for years, convinced that a man that loved red wine and dark chocolate must also love a good cup of coffee because how couldn’t he, but had yet to be successful in finding anything except a hot chocolate that did the trick.

“You’re not working,” Annie smiled in response, pushing an iced drink to him across the table. “Mostly iced tea, a splash of lemonade.”

“Thank you, perfect. Are you hungry? I would love one of those ham and cheese croissant situations we split last time...” he peered over her shoulder, searching for any waitress that might belong to them. She smiled in response. It was clear to her that as much as he appreciated the relaxed way she joined him in public, he even more so enjoyed the fact that she was unafraid to eat, and more than that share almost anything they had yet to try, even when they weren’t truly hungry.

She eyed him carefully, his dark hair with the slight gray coming in at the temples, the stubble on his chin of what was probably three lazy days of no shaving. Her eyes narrowed, a thought suddenly crossing her mind that had not been there moments before.

“Did we talk on the phone yesterday?” she asked him, genuine in her curiosity. He quirked an eyebrow in her direction for a moment before raising his hand, a waitress that suited his need coming over and him motioning for the croissant he desired, asking specifically if they could toast it slightly and also, did they have any room temperature butter pats they could bring with it? She smiled, humoring him, and left to investigate.

“What now?” he asked, his attention suddenly back on her.

“Did we talk on the phone yesterday?” she repeated herself, taking another sip of her coffee.

“About what?”

“I thought…I just remembered that I swore I talked to you yesterday. About Kristine?”

“Kristine? What the hell for?” he asked, his incomprehension at such a ridiculous topic to be the sole reason for a phone call between them.

“I swore we talked and I…you told me that she had said she made a huge mistake?”

“Which one?” he bemused sarcastically. Kristine, his ex-wife and companion for more than twenty years, had unexpectedly, at least to Michael, left him just two years prior with little explanation other than the fact that the marriage was just not what she wanted for her life anymore. She moved out, into a house that did not suit what he believed to be personality or style he had known for the past twenty years at all, followed by a career shift. She began dating a man ten years older than Michael was and began traveling the world as manically as she had left him, a new country every other month. He was so jarred by the change in her personality, he hadn’t even really been angry or sad at the shift. Yes, he was sad his marriage was over – but she had been right, it wasn’t great for either of their lives any longer. It was truly that he just didn’t recognize her, the person she was overnight anymore, that bothered him more than anything.

“The divorce,” Annie answered without hesitancy, before the thought even really occurred to her. She stopped, thinking back. Yes, he had said it. He had sounded excited…didn’t he? That she had called and asked to meet up out of the blue and suddenly wanted to take it all back? She wanted to try again and the feeling of that conversation, the excitement in his voice, left Annie with a pit in her stomach so strong she had to meet him immediately.

“The only thing she regrets about that divorce is paying me out of her 401k in cash rather than her share of the house. That was some of the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen her do.” He took a sip of his drink, unbothered by Annie’s clearly murky thoughts.

“Isn’t that why we’re meeting for coffee? To talk about this?” she tried again. He paused finally, taking her in.

“Are you ok? You texted me ‘let’s blow off work and get coffee tomorrow morning’ at like eleven last night. Yes, the croissant, ok.” He was looking past her again, his adoring gaze on the pastry approaching the table, working to cut it meticulously the second the waitress walked away.

Annie was not convinced. She stared into her cup. He had said it, she was sure of it. She was lying on the couch and he had called her, full of what was mostly amazement and confusion, laced with an excitement that unsettled her immediately.Kristine wanted him back. She wanted to meet up and try again. Annie could feel it in the lengths of her finger tips, the horror at the idea. Not just because Kristine did not deserve her dear friend back – her friend who had found so much happiness in his newfound freedom, but for reasons so much more she rarely allowed herself to think about.

“So she didn’t call you. You’re not going to talk about reconnecting?” she asked.

“Kristine is in Morocco with Peter. I have not talked to her in a couple of days and the last thing she sent me was that the girls backpacks were on my porch for school.”

Annie thought hard. It did seem odd to her that she had gotten a call from him so late when he normally would just text, usually about whichever TV show they were both navigating at home independently. She also suddenly remembered she had been wearing an all white fleece sweat outfit she recently saw on Tiktok, something she considered purchasing but didn’t think she actually had yet…

“I must have taken my headache medicine and fallen asleep…but then texted you when I woke up?”

He took a bite of croissant and shrugged his shoulders. A flake appeared just below his lip and she reached out, instinctively, brushing it away with her fingertips. The touch caused him to pause and watch her carefully, more surprised at this than anything they talked about so far.

“Sorry,” she muttered quickly, embarrassed. “You had ham…”

He wiped his own mouth again in response, checking to see it was gone. He looked at her for a second longer, not upset and less confused than the moment before.She noticed the tired crease in the corner of his eyes from it still being morning, maybe a mark from his pillow, something she had grown accustomed to with time because he rarely showered in the morning unless he was going into the office, only at night before bed. He was smiling though, softly and she mirrored it, slightly embarrassed now she had said something at all.

“Did you have a dream that I was getting back together with Kristine?” he asked, the humor at the suggestion playing on his lips. He was enjoying this and Annie felt her neck flush.

“No! I don’t know!”

“Are we here eating right now because you’re trying to prevent me getting back together with my ex?” he pushed harder, taking another bite. He was thoroughly enjoying this now.

“First of all, you would never do that. Secondly, I genuinely cannot remember why we’re here now, but I regret it more than Kristine does her 401k if that helps.”

“Shush. And how do you know I would never do that?”

She thought for a moment, focusing on him. He was teasing.

“Because I know.”

“You don’t know everything about me,” he put the last bite in his mouth, thoroughly pleased with the snack he suggested.

“I know enough. I know that wouldn’t happen.”

“Then why are we here? If you’re so sure.”

“Obviously because I need to switch my prescription.”

“Would you get back together with Ian?” he asked.It caught her off guard. Michael was not the only newest member of the divorced club, but it had happened in quite the opposite effect. Annie had left Ian, after much less than twenty years, but only after begging repeatedly for him to adjust the way he approached their marriage in it’s many different facets.

“Stop it,” she answered.

“No answer it. I don’t know you as much as you know me, apparently.”

“Obviously, I wouldn’t,” she answered definitively.

“So why are you worried about me?”

“I’m not worried about you.”

“You had a dream that you could not pull out of reality until we saw each other this morning and I assured you I’m not getting back together with my exwife. What the fuck is up?” He was still smiling, but he was clearly not going to let it go. His phone buzzed on the table, lighting up slightly, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He was in it now.

“I am not worried and stop saying it that way.But…if you did…I would, you know.”

“You would what?”

“I would hate it.”

“Why would you hate it. We’ve been friends for years, Kristine was around for a lot of them.”

“Can you shut up? It is early and I am hung over I think? I don’t think this is the outfit I even went to beg in last night,” she looked down, pulling at her sweatshirt.

“It’s dirty so if it’s not I’m impressed at what you’ve done to it in two hours this morning. Stop changing the subject.”

“There is no subject! I was wrong. I was tired! You’re happily divorced.”

“I’m not happily divorced, Annie.”

“You’re not?”

“No I mean…I’m happy I’m not married anymore but I’m not happy I’m single, begging my friend to share breakfast pastries with me when I should be working.”

“So if she came back and said let’s try again...” Annie pushed. He sighed, shaking his head.

“It’s not Kristine. I don’t want Kristine. You’re right, I don’t find her attractive anymore, we have nothing in common. It wouldn’t happen.”

“Ok.”

“Ok. So would you get back together with Ian?” he tried again. She stared at him, hard.

“No. I told you.”

“So now tell me why you’re worried about me and her.You don’t dream about something unless it’s on your mind.”

“I don’t know,” she finally murmured, shrugging her shoulders. The water in the pool she was about to dip her toe into could be shockingly cold, recoiling so – or it could be warm. It could be tepid. Comfortable. It could even have the potential to be hot.

“I would just be…sad. If you got back together with her.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends. Good friends and I would...miss you.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere.”

“Please. We could not be as close as we are now if Kristine came back and you know it.”

“We wouldn’t be this close if I had a girlfriend either.”

“Exactly.”

“So, is that it? You’re worried I’m not going to be single anymore?”

She hesitated. Was she worried about that? If Michael dated, he certainly didn’t share it with her, not that she wasn’t tempted to ask. She didn’t know everything about him, after all.

“No. Of course, I would be happy for you if you found someone. Even if it meant we weren’t as close.”

“You mean that?” She paused again.

“Yes.”

“Well. I would fucking hate it if you got a boyfriend,” he responded, the words light as air as they came out of his mouth. She faltered, shocked.

“Why?”

“Because,” he answered without hesitancy. “I don’t want to share you with anyone. You’re the best person I know.” She felt the water surrounding her feet grow warmer, a lump forming at the base of her throat as he talked.

“Well. I’m not dating anyone.”

“Great. Neither am I.” He took a sip of her drink, not breaking eye contact. He was saying something, she was sure of it. He never talked this way, looked at her in this way.

“Great.” She had nothing left. They stared across the table for several more seconds, a slight smile on his lips, the chatter of people around them going strong. The waitress came back, interrupting the moment as she pulled the dishes.

“Anything else?” she asked and Annie shook her head, not looking away from Michael’s small smile, his rumpled t-shirt. The way his jaw looked with that stubble, the way she wanted to reach out and touch it, to let her fingers graze the side of his neck, the back of his head where his newly cut hair faded into the skin.She felt her neck grow hot.

“Let’s blow off the rest of the day. When do you have to pick up kids? We can watch tv at my place,” she stood suddenly. She nodded, the words stuck in her throat.

“Three,” she finally choked out and he nodded.

“Great. I’ll meet you there.” He led the way to the front door and out onto the sidewalk, leaving the bustle and chaos of Cicero’s behind, the comfortable noise that filled the space between them seconds before now suddenly gone. In its place just the two of them, looking in opposite directions for their cars on the quiet sidewalk.

“Ok I’ll be there in a minute, I’m going to stop home and…just, I’ll be there in a minute.” She took a step away, her back to him when she felt his strong arm on her elbow, pulling her back around, her feet fumbling slightly on the walk as he did.

He cupped her face in both hands but below her jaw and leaned in, quicker than she realized what was happening, and pushed his lips to hers. They were soft, but knew exactly how to move against hers as her own parted. As if they had kissed a thousand times before. She felt that pit in her stomach rise and work its way up to her hands as she reached for him, coming up to his arms, stepping in as she kissed him back. She felt the exhale of his breath from his nose on her cheek, the kiss coming to a slow stop before he pulled away, breaking it.

“I don’t care about the coffee breath,” he whispered and she nodded slightly. He looked at her concerned, an eyebrow raised.

“What? Is this not ok?” he asked and she shook her head.

“No, it is. Sorry. I was just worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“Worried that this was also…a dream.”

He smiled, and leaned in again.

“It absolutely is,” he answered.