Waffles with Chuck

     Plates clank in the air as the steaming coffee warms my lips.  I sit, watching her from across the room, chatting with the gentleman in front of her with grace and beauty, her head tipping back and forth, as she responded to his conversational advances.  She smiles that smile and my heart breaks into a sprint for just a beat or two. That smile.  The way she flips her hair to open her face up and expose the glowing skin to the daytime.  The gentleman showed his own smile to her, one well worn and toothy.  A smile that has charmed so many hearts over so long a life.  He reached out for her hand, and she took it with care, and heartfelt warmth.  He slowed a bit, grasped her hand in return, and I saw him melt some.

     The waitress returned, a butterfly to the flowers of their mugs, filling them with fresh, hot liquid.  They released their grasp, added cream and sweetener, and sipped delicately, smiles still firmly in place. They continued their conversation, both talking in turn, and listening intently to each other, interjecting words as they were needed.  I sat back, twirled my bowler on the chair next to me, and drank from my own cooling cup. My own server flitted by, refilling, and continuing on her way. I smiled at her, catching her eye and eliciting a smile. I laughed inside as I turned back to watch the kindness pour from that beautiful woman just a few tables away, her red hair spilling out from under her hat, her eyes bright as she conversed with a man twice her age.  She looked away for a moment, seemed to check some unseen clock and wiped her mouth with the napkin folded neatly in her lap.  They rose together, moved to greet one another, and embraced.  His hand moved from her shoulders, slowly down her back, coming to rest just over the top of her skirt. It moved with care and compassion, as her hands moved over his shoulders, criss-crossing as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.  They parted, their hands being the last contact point between them.  He took his seat as he watched her go, finishing his coffee and slowly wiping his lips. 

     I got up, dropped enough cash on the table to cover the bill and the tip, picked up my bowler, and crossed the room.  I snaked my way to his table, and paused over his shoulder. He smiled up at me, and spoke to me.
 "Nice hat," the old man said quietly.
"Thanks.  You played well last night"
"We did, thanks.  Something I can do for you, young man?"
"Oh.. no.  I saw her dancing last night with you.  She's beautiful"
"Red? Yeah.  She's something.  Heart of gold, too."
"I bet.  That was quite a smile."
"Are you kidding me?  It's a damn shame."
I started, feeling as though that was a strange thing to say. "Huh? Why?"
"Boy, that girl is in love."


9-5-2011
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