A man, late forties, walks into this little cafe, alone. I’m sitting in the very back corner booth, the way I always do. Around here, everything is the same. No one new is ever here. I come here three times a week, typically Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, always right after school until they close at 7. The same people are always here, ordering the same thing. A lady named Beth, which I’m almost certain is short for Bethany, always orders a turkey sandwich, never eats it all. Most days, she gets something to go, typically a salad. Another regular, Sam, never actually gets food, just coffee. Somedays, though, Sam changes it up, he gets a cookie. He has this routine, he sits there, reads his paper, then stares out the window. I’ve seen him sit there and stare for hours. Sam and I always smile and wave at one another. Anyway, back to this strange man who has walked in. By the looks of it, he’s coming in after a day at the office. Rough day, he looks stressed. Most days, I’m alone, but today, I bring a boy, one with brown eyes and hair the girls these days love. A boy who doesn’t pay much attention to anything around him.
“The way you look at people always bothered me,” he told me, examining the menu, barely looking up at me. “The way you look at them like you’re trying to figure them out. They make me jealous,” he continued, but at this point I knew he could ramble on for hours. He must have realized the lack of attention I was giving him, because he finally blurted, “Forget it,” mid sentence.
I glanced up at him, I didn’t have to ask him to go on, I knew eventually he would pick up from where he stopped.
The man, on the phone now, looked like he was trying his best to not yell, not say something he would end up adding to his list of regrets. He kept shifting uncomfortably.
“Maybe, sometimes, I hate those people. They capture your attention. You can barely watch a movie, or hold a conversation with me most of the time, but these strangers, when you see them it’s almost like you’re on a foreign planet.”
The waitress walks up, with her happy smile, “The usual?” I nod. “And for you, sir?”
“Water, thank you,” he hands her the menu, and she walks off.
Unusual for him, to order almost nothing. He picked up on my observation, “Not hungry,” he sharply says.
He doesn’t take his eyes off of me, like he’s looking for something. He looks at me, as if any moment now, I’m going to spill my heart, reciting beautiful words, tell him how all my attention is on hi,. how these people are of no significance to me, but I learned growing up that lies only break hearts.
“What do you want me to say?” I said in my classic voice, with little emotion.
He doesn’t respond, instead, he gets up, walks out.
I know he’ll be back though.Like Sam always orders coffee. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll want something new, like Sam with his coffee.