La la la

Stay tuned, I swear I'll remember to bring the disk with the next entry on it to work soon. I am still pounding out my holiday story on my other blog at http://www.schmangela.blogspot.com
so you should check that out while you're waiting for me to get off my ass and edit more of this story...

The Third Entry

People were sacrificing a meal to help me deal with a hideous situation that I had created for myself. I couldn’t believe it, but felt really great about the human race. My boss never even found out I was late. My customers all agreed to take an oath of silence about the whole incident, and maybe their reasoning was that because I had inadvertently been responsible for injuring an expensive animal, and felt badly about it, that it was punishment enough. I wholeheartedly agreed.

And so I made it through the morning. I made lattes, gave people the key for the bathroom, wiped down counters, and listened to Sting’s greatest hits about 10 times. I was feeling less sorry for myself, and more importantly, less hung over, when our whole bean coffee got delivered. The guy walked in the front door, bag of beans slung over his shoulder, looking a bit haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his gaunt face had a sunken in look, like he had no sleep for several days, or was maybe just coming off a bender. He was just my type. I liked a man who showed his weaknesses, wasn’t ashamed to say, “I’m an alcoholic,” and then drink a beer and laugh about it.

He stood in line behind two old women who couldn’t decide what kind of tea they wanted. We had about 15 huge jars lining the counter all filled with exotic colorful tea leaves and herbs, and it really was kind of hard to choose when the presentation was so good. I had been shown an extraordinary amount of kindness so far that day, and let some of that goodwill spill over into my patience reservoir as the women debated the pros and cons of all the different choices.

The man with the bag of coffee shifted his weight from foot to foot, his load necessitating a lot of adjusting. The tea ladies were no closer to figuring out what they wanted and so I took action.

“You can just set those over here behind the counter,” I said to the delivery man.

“Huh? Oh. That would be great. They’re not heavy, just sort of awkward,” he replied, and started moving in behind the register. The long green countertop that separated me from him was suddenly gone, and I could see that he was thin, well dressed, and had a spray of barely perceptible freckles spattered across his nose.

He caught me studying him and I looked away, embarrassed to be making a physical assessment so soon after I had broken a lesbian’s heart and nearly killed a cat. But he didn’t know any of that, so I looked back over at him. He smiled warmly and brought his hand down on the coffee bag.

“I’ve got one more of these in the van,” he said. “I’ll go grab it. Here’s the bill. You guys pay cash on delivery, right?” His eyes flashed playfully.

“If that’s the way you like it,” I giggled and struck a flirtatious pose.

“We’ll both share a pot of the rose hip and hibiscus tea with a slice of lemon each, if you won’t charge us extra.” The old ladies sure could speak up at the exact wrong moment.

I got them their tea, and didn’t charge them for the lemons, brought their cups to their table, and got back to review the delivery man’s bill just as he walked in the door with the rest of the shipment.

“Same place?” he asked.

“Um…yeah. Actually, could you just open that other one and help me put it in this bin? I’m nearly out of house blend.” I tried to engineer something to keep him here a bit longer and the attention on me. I looked alright, even though I hadn’t showered that morning. The earlier crying jags had given my face a sort of pink, healthy hue.

I watched him load up the coffee bin and then stand, arms folded. He looked at me. I looked back. He smiled. I smiled. I felt like a dope. I had no idea how he was feeling.

“We just have one more thing to take care of here,” he said, and I blushed, thinking I was going to be asked out for a drink. Maybe I’d accept. I certainly didn’t want to go back to my apartment tonight, and maybe he’d buy, and then I’d tell him the story of the Cat Who Almost Lost His Leg.

“And what might that be?” I raised one eyebrow and looked over my wire-rimmed glasses at him.

“The bill. You haven’t paid me yet.”

Shit. He just wanted the money. I felt like a loser, and quickly opened the cash register and counted out a bunch of twenties. All business now, and humiliated, I signed the invoice and pretended to adjust the steaming wands on the espresso machine, like it was the most important job in the world.

“Thanks. See you next time.” He smiled, but only professionally, I could see now. Of course. He’s in and out of coffee shops all day. There are hundreds of cute girls just dying for a man that looks like he’d be perfect if only he’d let the right woman try to fix him. And I played into it like an amateur. I hadn’t seen him before, the regular delivery guy was old and quite large, but hopefully he was just a temp or something and I wouldn’t be reminded week after week of my seriously flawed girlish behavior. Things like this were reason enough to drink in the afternoon.

I turned around and started to move the bags of coffee under the counter, when the front door opened. I stood up and smiled, ready to ask what kind of milk they preferred in their mocha, when I realized it was him. He was back. I felt the stupid boy-crazy rush all over again. And he really did have a great smile. And those freckles…

“Hey,” I said, nonchalantly flipping my hair back over my shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Yeah. It’s a long drive to my next delivery, and I was wondering if I could get the key to your restroom.” It was a statement, not a question. I wouldn’t deny this man anything anyway. I handed him the key, a large metal doohickey hanging off the key ring so people wouldn’t put it in their pocket and walk out the door with it.

“Sure, here you go,” I said, and decided that I could still take control of this situation if I wanted to. “That’s what you came back for? I thought you came back for my phone number.”

He stopped dead, smile frozen, both our hands still on the key appendage. He regained his composure, but I could see that I had surprised him. This was a man who was used to having the upper hand, and I had just seen his bet and raised the stakes. He straightened up and called my bluff.

“Sure. Why not?”

I wrote it down on a receipt from an order pad and handed it to him with a flourish.

“Thanks,” he said. “When did you want to get together?”

“How about after I’m done with work tonight.” A statement, not a question. It was my way of calling his cards.

“Great. I’ll call you? My name’s Ray, by the way.” He stuck out his hand for a shake, which I took and gave him my best man-type business grip.

“Angela,” I returned, and was all flirty and smiles again. “Nice to meet you Ray. You’re definitely the cutest delivery boy I see around here.’

He blushed and broke my gaze.

Yes! I had won the battle of nerves. We had made a date. He had looked away first. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

Apologies and Schedule

A short explanation of why I haven't been posting regularly here:

I had originally thought that I would just blog my novel for National Novel Writing Month directly onto this site. Things went great for two days. I was feeling good about what I had to say. On the third day, I realized that people who star in my little dramatic life might possibly get upset at me recreating their most horrible moments and posting them for the world to see. Also, I had started to write the banal stuff that usually makes up most first drafts. So, I have decided to wait to post here until I have finished the entire first draft, when I will go through and change names, fictionalize certain details, and just generally attempt to excise the worst of the bad dialogue, and then, I promise, I will post again. Please keep checking back here, it shouldn't be too long.

Rest assured, however, that what I have so far is over a hundred pages of dramatic, gossipy relationship crap that, brutal at the time, has morphed into what I hope will be a funny version of the life of my marriage. Please note that my ex was not available for comment, as I have not attempted to run any of this by him.