Fuzzy the Magnificent

April 8, 2008
The weather outside is unbelievably cold; the wind blows a freezing chill against my
face, neck, and hands. The sidewalks are not safe to walk on because of the ice, and I see salvation from this horrid weather. Fuzzy’s, a corner stone of Court Street and Bay Road. This is the place where all the old people come to hang out and commute among themselves after church or the middle age crowd, who plow the streets, file the papers in an office, mow lawns, drink coffee and watch spots. The people who had high hopes in life but are now living the American Dream…in Saginaw.
I enter the building with thanks, praising the person who put the heater on. I sit down at an empty table with no silverware, nearest to the window, order a cup of coffee and wait in a heart rimmed chair for my hot, black brew. My mind jumps from idea to idea as my eyes stare at the linoleum, black and white, checkered floor. There is lady, at the table next to mine, playing with what seems like her phone, but judgment now seems wrong.

The waiters move from table to table, asking for their assistance. An old couple talks up one girl, a boy with an unusual black shirt on, is transporting ice cream from a freezer, to a clear container which allows you to pick which ever flavor you like and the owners talk to the other employees as customers eat their food and drink their beverages. The woman next to me slams her old, wrinkling, fist on the table as she loses another big win on her electronic device.
“DarnYahtzee,” she looks in my direction, but I do not look back “ I’m getting addicted to this thing.” She chuckles at her addiction afterward. My eyes still stare at the floor with a smile, not sure if I should comment back to the harmless woman. The waitress is coming with my coffee in her left hand and utensils wrapped in a white napkin in her right.
“ Here you go, sorry about the wait. I’m a lil bit chatty.” She said referring to the old couple in the corner.
“ It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“Hey dear, could I switch from tea to coffee?” said the woman next to me.
“ Sure thing.” The waitress walks off into the back. Shock, it hits me like a blazing fire; this girl is beautiful, amazing, and skinny. I cannot see her anymore because the ice cream freezer blocks my view. I still want to see her though, in fact I want her sitting next to me, to enjoy the conversation we could be having. I am in shock of how simple, kind and humble this pretty girl is. I want her.
“ She’s a beauty ain’t she?” said the woman.
“ Uh…I guess.” I embarrassingly say back.
She knew I was looking, or she was reading my mind, which never happens, so she was staring. It bothers me when people stare, especially if it’s a stranger. My hands reach for my metal sandwich wrap and unfold it. “The spoon is what I need.” thinking to myself. I mix the right amount of sugar and cream for my taste buds, and slowly sip as my eyes follow the waitress around. I sit upright. “ Girls like that sort of thing…I think, well hopefully this one does.”
The girl has a cream colored face, like my coffee creamer, this was the idea at the time and the only thing worth relating to her face. Her eyes were brown like bark on a thriving oak tree. Her hands looked as smooth as a sunset in summer. Her body swung with the world in such a way that I could not stop looking at her. I can feel her infection fill my body with holiness. It stays in my body.
The lady lights up a Pall Mall cigarette, I take another sip of my coffee, and a couple with their little girl walks in the place and sit down to order. I wait to see her come. She comes and goes without hesitation. The woman next to me takes another puff of her death stick, I take another sip and she waits on another table.
“ She’s having boy problems.” The lady fills in the horrible information that I hope was not true.

“ Really? Well it happens. I’ve had my share of troubles too.” I say politely, but inside my heartaches from a complicated heartbreak that has not happened yet.
“ Yeah, she’s been talking to me about it.”

She comes with the coffee pot in her hand.
“ You want some more?” she says beautifully.
“Yeah.” I could not say anything back. I was sick.

Problems with a boyfriend I do not know, but I know one thing. I hate him. I hate because it’s so easy, especially if you are with my woman.
“Some boys don’t know when to stop. My husband had an affair with a woman Three Days before our marriage. Can you believe it? I tell you men know how to mess with our minds. Three gosh darn days, he told me that I was cheating on him. That’s when you
know their cheating…it’s when they suspect you of doing it.” The woman unwinding said to me as if I cared about her troubles years ago.
“That’s crazy…you still with him?”

“Yeah, I took him back. Nothing I could do. We were getting ready to wed, so that pretty much means I love him, kicked her butt though, you know the jezebel he slept with.”

My thoughts now focus on the life of this woman. “What got to her smoke?
Where did she find this husband? What did she eat? How does she make money?” I pondered. I told her about Michigan Lutheran Seminary; she told me she was glad it was still open.
“Yeah, it’s a good thing that the place didn’t shut down. It brings a good feeling to this town. Yeah those kids are something else.”

Her mind has drifted off to some other place. She looks up into the smoke ridden air and takes another puff. I look at my cup and see that it’s empty, the thought of the waitress comes to mind, and my eyes look around the place to see if she is in sight but is nowhere to be found. A man comes in the building and sits down at the table next to mine with the woman.

“ Hey Tom! How you doin?”

“I’m okay, jus got back from…”
My mind drifts off again, as she no longer has the need to talk to me. But wait, she comes with a pot of hot coffee in her hand. My heart jumps with joy as our eyes connect; she smiles and pours some more.

“Sorry about the wait again, we just put on a new pot, careful now sweetie, it’s hot.”

She leaves; she does not know the pain she is bringing to my heart. The friendly
couple starts talking to me about everything. The woman has explained to the man my whole life story, adding her input on a couple things, but still keeping to the truth. They ask about life back home, what’s my view on the weather, do I like it here and other personal questions about life. I say that everything is all right, but in reality everything is boring. Life is boring, school is boring, and home is boring.
This couple seems to know each other from a shared past they had together; everyone here likes to talk and share tall tales. During my time here I have heard of bulldogs that will not bite strangers, amazing skills in ballet from an extremely overweight woman, and an Apache who came from Arizona for a Lutheran education. I seem to add perfectly to this place, but it hurts.

The decision to leave has come, my coffee is gone, the woman has talked way too much, the man was condescending, and I have homework to do. The factors are not that important, it’s just that I need to leave because they know too much about me, if I would
stay, they would ask more, and talk some more. Less of everything is what I need right now, so I say good-bye to them, the waitress and my money. Maybe next time, maybe.

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