Treading lightly

I got there early. Far too early.

"Can I just sit... somewhere... and get a cup of coffee?"

"Do you want a table?"

"No," I replied. "I just want coffee. I’m really tired."

"Do you want to sit in the bar?"

I read my book and waited 'til closer to the time. The bartender left to pick up newspapers.

"Do you want me to pay before you go?" I asked.

"No, it's OK."

He left me alone in the bar, in the right side of the building, with my book and a fresh cup. I read a page or two, checked the time on my phone, read another page. Phone. Book. Phone. Book. Coffee. Eventually I moved into the restaurant, my cup and saucer in hand.

Hugs were exchanged. Greeting. Waves. We moved to a table at the side big enough for 10; though, only eight of us made it. As the day progressed, we discovered that we were the only ones in direct sunlight from the skylight overhead. The sun drifted across the table and faces. We traded places and traded again, moving down the table, offering respite to those who squinted.

Our impromptu game of musical chairs afforded each of us the chance to catch up with others, to talk to each of the organizer's parents and friends. Babies and travel, books, movies and sweaters. Conversations peppered the meal, which we exchanged several times. The plates as well as the conversation. Every omelet on the table found its way to my setting before I found my own.

We ordered a plate of ricotta pancakes for the table, with bourbon, bananas, and walnuts in the sauce. We all wanted to try them. Our bread plates filled with pieces of other people's brunches.

After the meal, after lingering and changing places a half dozen times, passing around my friend's dad's hat and moving to avoid the sun, we made our way into the crisp autumn air. In the parking lot, I demonstrated the Thriller dance, causing spasmodic laughter and tears.

"You have to tape that."

"I think it was taped."

"No, you have to tape that. You, doing it alone, in a parking lot, without music."

Fortunately, nobody had a camera. I hugged and waved my goodbyes, limped on aching limbs to the Metro with a friend, full of pancakes and eggs, coffee and conversation, laughing deeply and treading lightly.

Tag: Friends