He walks into the coffee shop in his neatly pressed checked shirt hanging over his jeans. As always, dressed casually but never shabbily. Dark hair showing signs of where the head met the bed. Grey-blue eyes full of poise, never a flicker of any emotion. Deep gentle voice floating a "Goodmorning" to the matronly looking lady at the counter. Invariably the lady cheerfully returns the greeting and asks "how are you today?". Then quietly the lady accepts the cash and prepares his cappucino. He takes the cup with a soft nod and a "thank you" and goes to his nook where the sun shines through the glass wall.
I watch discreetly from my table, the 4 of us each morning, except on Sunday. Each of us have a particular place to sit at. Each of us have a particular brand of coffee or breakfast. Though we have met here silently for the last 6 months, some longer than that, no one has ever made an attempt to talk to the other. The excuse, well, its a big space. Each of us has a particular activity..The couple who sit at the table near the entrance, I guess are in their 60's. They seem like an adoring couple. Maybe they have had a long marriage, they must have been childhood sweethearts. The lady usually has a bagle with her coffee, while the man has just a coffee, they always converse in quiet voice and their eyes always seem to smile at each other.
I watch greyeyes(my name for him), envying his life that gives him an aura of confidence and groundedness. Deep lines of concentration etch his forehead as he reads the sports section. I note the same routines we seemingly have at this coffee shop, with one difference- I read the opinion section. I speculate about his life- he has calm eyes, maybe hes a teacher; He seems very confident, maybe he runs some organization; He usually minds his own business, maybe he has a girlfriend or wife, though I have never seen either with him; He does seem like a loner, maybe he is a serial killer planning his next kill.. A silent chuckle in my mind- ah how we assume things.
I go back to watching him between the reading.. I see his strong jawline, broad forehead that is showing signs of balding at the temples. A nose that is fairly long and ridged. Another rustle and his newspaper is turned to the Business section. After a while, the cup horizontal, he takes another sip. I start a slow count and as I reach 30, he folds the newspaper into a quarter fold, picks up the cup, heads towards the trash-bin, drops the cup and walks away.
Silently I say- goodbye, see you tomorrow. I let my mind daydream our imagined conversation, if we ever talk to each other... Everyday I think, maybe today I will say Hi! or maybe he will say Hi!. Maybe today we could converse and find out if my imagined stories about his life is anywhere near reality. Curious about his life, what does he do for a living, what interests him apart from sports, business and coffee? Does his life reflect the serene pools in his eyes, or the clean cut of his hair or the tidy clothes that he wears. Did he live here all his life or has he moved around and rearranged his life? Does he like to read books, go horse riding or play golf?
Everytime I think of starting a conversation, I end up with an internal dialogue with my split self- on why I should talk to him and why I shouldnt. By the time the internal debate is done, the whole idea of a conversation with greyeyes is so insipid. But the next day arrives and the cycle repeats.
I admit, I am a curious person. I think, we rarely talk to people we actually want to talk to. We worry about seeming pathetic, appearing needy/clingy, seeking approval, being misunderstood, judged as unworthy of the other person's time. We also worry about our feelings not being reciprocated or maybe laughed at or teased at a latter date. In theory, all these "what if's?" shouldnt matter but it does. How clean and simple it would have been if we could just turn on the theory faucet and everything happened in accordance with it? But if it did, we would have to define human beings differently.
My day has just begun, as usual the highlight of my coffee time is my imagined stories of lives that pass through the coffee shop.
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