Chapter Four
coffee and contemplations
I slouch down into my chair, trying to become invisible.
I feel like a child.
Cassie giggles, and leans in, ‘Um, Char, what are you doing?”
I nod my head in the direction of the counter, trying to be discreet about it, and finally, she sits up and looks.
Cassie looks at me and mouths ‘OH.’
“You should go say hi.” she whispers.
“Absolutely not. I feel bad enough that I can't remember his name, especially after we had that moment.” I whisper right back. I gotta get out of here.
He's turned in the opposite direction, so I slowly grab my things, tell Cassie I have to go, then slip out of my chair quietly.
I’m almost to the door when I hear in a deep, deep voice, “Charlie?”
I halt, cursing myself for not moving faster. I put a probably awkward smile on my face, and turn.
“Oh my gosh, hi.” I say in a weirdly high pitched voice. I hear Cassie laugh at me, but ignore it.
“What brings you in here?” I ask him.
He holds his drink up, “Coffee. This is a coffee shop.” he chuckles. And I hate my body for reacting to the sound.
“Right. Of course, sorry. Dumb question." I smack my forehead, and instantly feel stupid.
What. Is. Happening.
He laughs again, “No, not dumb. No question is a dumb question.” His eyes lock on mine, and I’m frozen in place. Again. What is it with his eyes? Are they like, magical, or something?
“Right. Sorry, I was just leaving, but it was so good seeing you again." I tell him, and try to dip out.
“Perfect, so was I. Care if I walk with you?”
I shake my head, probably way too fast, and say, “No, that would be lovely.”
That would be lovely?
His smile grows, and his cheeks dimple in. Fuck me.
“Lovely.” he repeats, then holds the door for me. “Ladies first.”
I nod a thanks, then turn and shoot Cassie a look. She just smiles and mouths ‘Be nice!’
We walk in silence for a minute, and the awkwardness is killing me. I clear my throat, and turn to look at him.
“So, uh, what did you get?” I ask.
“Hm? Oh, my drink. Just a black coffee.”
I cringe. “How can you drink that? Does it not gross you out?”
He laughs, “Not so much anymore. It took a few months to really get used to it, but after a while it became all I could tolerate when it came to coffee.”
“But why make yourself have to ‘tolerate’ coffee? Don't you want to enjoy it?”
“When you're in the military, you don't get all that sweet stuff to add in. It’s the blackest of black coffee, or nothing. And I’m not too pleasant without my morning cup.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn't know.”
He waves a hand, “No you're fine.”
Just then I notice the dog tag around his neck, and a small scar right above it. How did I not notice before?
“Are you still in? The military, I mean.”
His head shakes, “No, I got out this month actually. Just got home a couple weeks ago.”
Oh wow.
“Does it feel weird?”
He looks at me confused, so I clarify, “Being home.”
“Ah.” he says, then adds, “Like you wouldn't believe.” his hand reaches up to the dog tag, and he gives it a squeeze then lets go. I suddenly feel extremely guilty for not remembering his name.
I stop walking. He stops next to me.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
I rub at my forehead, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I have an embarrassing confession.”
His eyebrows shoot up, “Ok. Hit me.”
“I can't remember your name. I know I know, terrible. But you see, I work a lot, and my memory is shot, probably from all the coffee I drink, and it slipped my mind and hasn't come back. And I feel especially bad since the bar, and you just told me something personal about yourself, and I’m not even decent enough to remember your freaking name.”
Great, now I’m rambling.
He just smiles, and shrugs. “It's ok. Really. We only met the one time, and the second time you were pretty wasted, so I don't blame you.”
I hold a hand up, “Which I typically don't do. I don't get drunk.”
“So you told me. While drunk.” he teases.
I find myself smiling, and looking away from him.
“Ok. You got me there. But I swear it’s not a normal thing. I hardly ever leave my apartment.”
His eyes drop to my mouth like they did before.
“So what made you that night?” he asks.
I contemplate my answer for a minute.
Do I go with honesty and tell him I was having a sad night and hating my lonely life? Or lie and just say I was bored.
Neither. Let's go with neither.
“I dont know.” I tell him.
He nods his head. “Ok. well, if it helps, you weren't a sloppy drunk.”
I throw my hand into my face.
“Oh gosh.”
“You didn't take advantage of me or anything.” he adds, and I can't help the laugh that slips free.
“Isn't that usually the guy's job?” I say.
“Oh, you'd be surprised.”
We just stand there smiling at each other like a couple of idiots.
Finally he says, “I hate to do this, but I do have to go, I have a meeting to go to.”
I nod, confused about why him leaving so soon disappoints me.
“Ok, me too.”
He smiles at me, and I quickly correct myself, “Not a meeting. I don't have a meeting. I do have ice cream calling my name though, so I should..” I point over my shoulder in the direction of my apartment. Logan nods, but his eyes meet mine and goosebumps flood my body. I feel my cheeks heat, and hope to God my face isn't red.
“I want to see you again.” he says.
“Oh. Um.” I'm lost for words.
The sensation of how easy this conversation was, and how my body reacts to just being near him is too much for my brain.
“Please.” he adds when I don't say anything.
I blow out a breath, and stand taller, so I sound confident in what I’m about to say.
Even though I feel anything but.
“I.. I don't date. I mean I have, in the past. But not anymore…” I trail off, and he seems to sense the change in my tone.
He smiles softly, then says “I understand. I’d still like to see you, though. It doesn't have to be a date. We can hangout as friends.”
I doubt that. But something in me wants to see him, again, too.
“I'll think about it.” I tell him.
His smile comes back and his eyes light up again. “I will take that.”
“You better get to your meeting.” I say.
His smile is infectious.
“You better get to your ice cream,” he replies.
My face feels so hot. What is happening?
I laugh and turn to leave, but then I freeze and turn to see him walking away.
“Your name!” I yell at him.
He turns, a big goofy smile on his face.
“Logan.” he says. “Logan Henderson.”
I smile.
“Thank you, Logan. That would have driven me nuts all night.”
He chuckles, then waves and turns on his heels.
I smile to myself the entire walk home.
Once I’m inside, I go straight to the fridge, pour some wine, then run myself a hot bath.
This has been a weird day, and I just want to relax.
I pour some eucalyptus and lavender salts in, grab my tub pillow, and slowly sink in.
Logan .
I remember now. I can’t believe I forgot that. I’m a horrible person.
He remembered my name. After only hearing it once. Maybe he just has a better memory than I do, which lets be honest, that's not that hard.
I grab my phone, put some calming music on, and close my eyes letting the scents and sensation of the salts and hot water calm my frazzled nerves.
I can't be feeling these things. Not again. I need to get Logan out of my mind, and fast. But I don't know how. He keeps popping up. What if I run into him again? What if I start seeing him at all my local shops? What if he becomes a regular at the antique shop?
I’m overthinking this. I’m way over thinking this.
I slip my head under the water, and hold my breath for a minute.
This doesn't have to be a thing. We are both adults, I can set boundaries, and hold them. I already told him I don't date, so that's a good start. If I see him again, I’ll just make sure he understands how adamant I am about that.
No dating. No men. It's not in the cards for me.
I come up for air, just as my phone dings.
I dry my right hand so I can grab it.
Cassie.
How did it go with mountain man?
I set it back down without answering. I just can't right now. There's too many thoughts and feelings being stirred up, and I just need to be alone right now.
Why must life be so unfair?
I end up finishing the bottle of wine by myself, and fall asleep crying listening to sappy love songs.
Tomorrow is going to be just fantastic.
My alarm goes off at 6 a.m sharp, and I groan. I don’t want adult responsibilities today. But, today is Thursday, which means Mr. Reeves will be coming in as soon as that sign says open.
I quickly wash my face, brush my teeth, then head to my closet.
It’s surprisingly chilly this morning, so I toss on some high rise jeans, sneakers, and a comfy crewneck sweatshirt. There's a slight chill in the air with fall being just around the corner, and I love it.
I keep my hair simple, and toss it into a messy bun.
I stop in and grab my usual, but Cass isn't in today so it goes a lot faster than normal.
To my surprise, Mr. Reeves is already at my shop waiting on the bench in front of the window.
“Isn't someone early today?” I say as I approach the door.
“Good morning, Charlie.” he says, then adds, “I have a breakfast date today with a wonderful gal. I wanted to stop here first, you know, just in case it goes well and we end up spending the day together.”
My heart.
He has to be in his early 70’s, but he lost his wife a couple of years ago. This is the first I’ve heard of him dating.
“How exciting! Well, don’t stand out here and freeze, come on in.”
I hold the door open for him, and once he hobbles his way in with his cane, I shut the door, and flip my sign.
“You know, I have a good feeling about today.” he tells me as he follows behind me to the front desk.
“Oh yea? Why’s that?” I ask.
“Love is in the air. I can feel it.”
I pause, looking around. I don't know why. It’s not like you can see love in the air.
“Is that so? Well, I hope you're right. For your sake, I mean.”
He laughs, “The last time I felt this was 55 years ago. When I met my Margaret. Love was in the air then, too.”
“Oh wow. That’s a long time ago” I say.
“What can I say, when you know you know.”
I pause.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says.
I take a breath, not sure what's come over me and why I’m asking him this. Then say, “Please don’t think I’m prying, or get offended by this. But, Margaret was your true love. Your soulmate. Right?”
He nods, and waits for me to continue.
Very carefully. I have to word this carefully.
“Then how are you feeling love now, for someone who isn't her?”
His eyebrows shoot up, but he just stands there. Contemplating his answer I’m assuming.
Finally, he says, “You will never love someone the same way you loved your soul mate. It’s not possible. But, love is always possible. It won't feel the same, it won't look the same. But you are still capable of feeling love and giving love.”
I nod my head, not sure what else to do. I’m sure he’s right, but to me...that seems impossible.
I blink, clearing the thoughts from my head.
“Well, I’m glad you found it again. Now let's get you checked out so you can get to your date.”
Lunch time rolls around, and there's a few customers and a few drop offs. I just finished packing a large order of old knives someone from the next town over ordered over the phone to be shipped, when my phone starts ringing.
One of the perks of owning my own store is that I won’t get yelled at for things like this.
I pull it out of my back pocket, and see Cassie's name flash across the screen.
That's odd. She usually doesn't call me at work.
“Cass? Everything ok?” I ask her.
She houghs into the phone, “Yeah, but this paint is just sitting here staring at me like ‘I know you aren't about to try this by yourself’. It’s just mocking me at this point. Where the hell are you?”
Crap.
It's Thursday. I’m supposed to be at Cassie's to help her paint.
What is going on with my brain lately?
“Oh my gosh, Cass, I completely forgot. Is Nathaniel there?”
“No. He said he met someone and they ended up spending the night on his boat, and are now spending the whole weekend together. He says it might be true love.”
Love is in the air.
Maybe he was right?
“Shit. Ok. Um. hang on let me think. I have mail coming to pick up this big order and someone has to be here to sign for it to be picked up.”
“Charlie,” she groans. “How did you forget this?”
“I don't know. My head is a mess. Let me figure something out, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
“Char, do you want to just push it again? I can wait, really.”
“No. I promise, I’ll be there. I just have to get this package figured out first.”
I hang up, and start anxiously chewing at my nails.
I pull my phone out and call the post office.
“Hello?” he answers.
“Hi! So glad you answered.” I say a bit too chipperly. “You are supposed to be coming to my shop today, Charlie’s Antiques, to pick up a package, but I’ve had something come up and have to leave early today. Is there any way I can leave the package inside my door and leave the key for you to grab it?” I plead, crossing my fingers and my toes.
“I’m sorry miss, I don't make the rules, and rules say it has to be signed.” he says, and I know it isn't his fault or anything he can control.
“But..” I stutter, “but they have to go out today to get there in time. There's nothing you can do?”
The line is silent for a moment, then he says, “I haven't left yet to make deliveries, if you can get here before I do, I can take it for you.”
The post office is just a few corners away.
“I can be there in 15. Will that work?”
“It should, but you might have to power walk,” he laughs.
I grab my keys, put the phone between my shoulder and my ear, and grab the box full of knives.
“On my way. I will be there, do not leave. ” I say.
“No promises. Walk fast.”
I hang up before he says another word, and drop my phone onto the top of the box.
Slapping my ‘We left early’ sign on the door, I turn the lock, and close up.
I’m hauling ass, and all I can think is how happy I am that I chose comfort over style today.
As I turn the corner. I slam into a hard wall.
The box and all my things fall to the ground.
“Shit!” I drop to the ground, scrambling to grab everything that I just dropped. This is just my luck.
“Let me help with that,” says a deep voice I instantly recognize. Dread fills my gut.
Logan.
Seriously. Why is he everywhere all of a sudden?
“Logan. Hi. Sorry about that.”
“Don't apologize. I didn't realize I had stepped on the race track.” he chuckles, but I just focus on picking everything up so I can meet this truck in time and get to Cassie.
He must sense my tension.
“Is everything ok?” he asks, and I pause, looking up at him from where we are kneeling.
“Yes. No. I’m trying to get to the post office before the guy leaves for deliveries.”
His eyebrows pull together in confusion.
“Couldn’t he just come to your shop so you aren't rushing around and running into people?”
“Yes. Yes he could.. And that's what I had planned, but then Cassie calls and reminded me that I’m supposed to help her paint today, but if I don't get this package out today, it won't get there by tomorrow which is when this weird knife showcase thing needs them, and it's a huge order that would greatly affect my business.”
I stop, sucking in air. Jesus. Why do I ramble so much.
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine, then looks in the direction I was heading.
“Give me the package.”
My heart beats a little faster.
“What?”
“Give me the package, I’ll take it for you.”
“I can't ask you to do that for me.”
“You’re not asking.” he says, his voice low, “I’m telling.”
Our eyes hold for a minute while I contemplate my options. I look at the street sign, then towards where the post office is.
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “Yes. Now go before this whole thing is pointless. I’m assuming the address and everything is already on here?”
“Yes. And in their system.”
“Got it. Go. Your package is in good hands.” he winks, then takes off practically sprinting.
I watch him for only a second, and think back to what Mr Reeves said.
Love is in the air.
Stupid love air.
Cassie's apartment is in the opposite direction, so I turn around and call for a cab.
I pull up to Cassie's 30 minutes faster than I would have if I ran all the way to the post office.
I cannot believe he did that.
My phone lights up with a notification.
Package accepted. -usps
He did it.
My heart swells, and I catch myself smiling at my phone.
“What's got you smiling like that?” Cassie yells from her window above me.
I look up, “Stop being nosey.” I yell back at her.
She laughs, then buzzes me in.
Once I’m upstairs, I take in the job that I agreed to assist on.
This is going to be an all night thing.
“Cassie, remind me again how you got permission to paint your apartment? That you are renting .” I ask her, looking around and all the changes she’s made since the last time I was here.
Cassie has a very loud personality, so I don't expect her place to be any less. There's old lamps everywhere, crystals, disco balls, and incense burning somewhere. And now she's going to paint.”
“Um,” she finally says, “I just didn't ask?” she says, shrugging her shoulders innocently.
“Cass. You know you won’t get your security deposit back, right?”
“Eh. who cares. I pay the rent on time, and don't make loud noises. They won't ask me to leave any time soon, and I don't plan on it anyways.” she says.
“Cass. What if they want to do a random inspection and see this?” I ask her, now genuinely concerned for her.
“It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
I don't know how true that statement is, but I drop it. Cassie is Cassie and when she sets her heart on something she has to have it.
Legal or not.
“Come on.” she says, “Grab a roller, and that paint tray.'' She points to where the supplies are sitting on the table that's covered in a white tarp.
“What color did you decide?” I ask. “Please don't be like..hot pink or something.”
“No, that’s not cool enough for me.” she jokes.
I open up the paint, and see a rich emerald green staring back at me. It's a beautiful color, but seems rather bold for an apartment.
“Cassie, are you sure?”
She pauses taking down picture frames, and smiles at me.
“Absolutely”
30 minutes pass, and we have two full walls covered.
I start on the next while she makes some coffee. My phone goes off, so I set the brush down, and pull it from my pocket.
I hope this isn't an invasion of privacy, I got your number off the receipt.. But I wanted to let you know the package is in the hands of the mailman now.
It’s Logan. I feel my chest tighten, seeing him texting me. It feels weirdly personal.
“Charlie?” Cassie says as she comes back into the room holding two cups.
My head whips up in her direction. “Hm?” I grumble out.
“Your cheeks are flushed.” she giggles.
My hand flies to my cheek, “No they're not.”
“Um, babe. They definitely are. What aren't you telling me?”
I clear my throat, “Uh, Logan texted me.”
“Logan?” her eyes pinch together in confusion. Then I watch as recognition clicks.
“Oh Logan.” she says, drawing out his name. “The guy from the bar? And the store?”
“And an hour ago.”
“An hour ago? You saw him today?”
I give her a rundown of everything. From me rushing on the side of the road with a package in my hands, to him swooping in like burly superman and saving my ass.
“Babe, why didn't you just call a cab or something?” Cassie asks.
“Yeah.. I could have, huh? Look, my brain isn't working. But the important part of the story is that Logan showed up, ran my package to the post office for me, and now has my phone number.”
“And are we mad about that? Or..”
I think about it. I’m not upset, not at all. I am kind of nervous, though. Texting leads to conversations, and then phone calls, and then hanging out. I’m not ready for any of that, No matter how tempting it all sounds with him. I’m not ready.
I shake my head, “No, I’m not upset about it. I don’t know what to feel to be completely honest.”
“Well what did he say?”
“Nothing, really. Just that my package is with the mailman. Which I already knew, but.” I shrug, and start painting another section.
Cassie just stares at me, like she's waiting for more.
“What?” I ask her.
“Are you not going to reply?” she asks.
“Oh. Uh. I don’t know. I need to think.”
“Think? About what?”
“On what to reply. Or if I even want to reply.”
“Charlie.” she says, and something in her tone makes me pause.
“It’s been over a year now. You can talk to guys.” she says, her voice almost a whisper.
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
I stop and look at her.
“I’m just not ready, ok?”
“Are we ever?”
I just shrug, not having any words to explain what’s going on in my head. But she understands. She knows.
Grief is weird.
I take my coffee from her finally, and then get back to painting. I also don't reply.