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Becareful this is Long


Aelora
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As per the request of a few of the FP members I'm posting one of my stories. This one is finally finished, and I hhope you guys like it. PM me with comments please I would really like to hear them, particularly if they are about something you would change.

 

 

 

 

 

Barista Angelica

 

The old man set his mug down on the small, faux-wood table before taking his pill bottle out of his coat pocket. It had been his ritual since the coffee shop had opened up near his dilapidated apartment complex. Due to his current financial situation the three dollars for a single cup of mediocre coffee was one of the few luxuries his old age could afford him.

 

Nine years ago he sold his home after his wife had passed away. Far too many memories of her clung to every square inch of that place. Abundant energy, money, and pride had gone into that home; selling it was almost as hard to deal with as living in it. Once the pained decision to sell it had been made, however, he sold it as quickly as he was able, taking the first bid he was offered, which stood well under the market value. The old man had met and liked the family that meant to buy his home. They were a young couple with two small children. They reminded him of his wife and how comfortably the two of them had lived together.

 

 

For what it was worth he had sold them the house for a price that was practically giving it to them. At the time he had come to terms with the statistics that a surviving spouse is far more likely to die within five years of their loved one than to survive the separation. With the pain he felt daily struggling to live without her, he assumed that he would die along with her. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say, and the old man found himself still wandering the earth twelve years after his better half had left it.

 

 

There were places in the world he had meant to visit as well, but social security had not been what he planned and his pension had been laughable. Africa was going to wait for another lifetime, it seemed. As it stood he was seventy-three and still holding a part time job, just to keep the ends meeting.

 

 

So he bought his coffee, like today; read his paper, like today; and tried not to think about remembered friends and love ones who had left him one by one. Today, he had added a single activity to his agenda, a task he had tried to put off but now could no longer afford the wait.

 

 

“Refill, Sir?” A young girl approached him, maybe eighteen but probably not, these coffee shops hire little else. Her deep brown hair was thrown haphazardly up in a pony-tail, and despite the acne that revealed her youth she held a quiet dignity held usually in women twice her age.

 

 

“Yes, please” The man tried to think of the last time he had been offered a refill, it hadn’t been at this coffee house, that was for sure, refills are never poured into paper cups, even ones with fancy cardboard slipcovers.

 

 

“You looked like you were alone with some heavy thoughts. I thought maybe a second cup would help.” The girl smiled cheerfully and without comment or concern sat on the chair across from him. The old man drew back from the table slightly as though she meant to bite him, and was instantly ashamed for it. The girl didn’t seem to notice.

 

 

“Heavy thoughts?” He asked, thinking it to be some teenage slang he had yet to hear.

 

 

“Yeah, my mother used to say that.” The girl’s voice was strained as though she were trying to speak louder than she was able. If the girl was speaking up so that he could hear her she was right to do so. The years had taken his hearing not long after depleting his vision. As much as doctors would hate to admit it, a hearing aid has yet to come out that can reverse the relentless march of old age. “Whenever my sisters or I would be thinking hard about things, she called it heavy thoughts.”

 

 

“I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular.” The old man defended. He recollected what he was thinking before the girl arrived, he thought about his wife, how her laughter, which lifted his spitir time and time again, now left an echo that would clench his heart and leave him in tears.

 

 

“I know.” The girl said cheerily enough. The old man fiddled with his pill bottle, quietly wondering why it would be now, of all times, that he could not get any peace. “I see you in here a lot sir. Everyday, in fact.” The old man listened carefully, this was the first time any of the girls recognized him as a repeat customer. “The other girls noticed you too, you’ve become something of our ‘mystery man’.” The girl scooted in the chair, It seemed possible that after the last ten minutes of boldness she was suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

 

 

He remembered that Robert had always been like that. Robert worked with him before he had finished graduate school. The worked together at the hospital, as security. When an incident would occur Bobby would be fearless, once the moment passed and everyone would relax Bobby would start fidgeting and relive the moment in his head, second guessing then the immediate actions he tood at the time. Where was Bobby now, he wondered now he would be someone worth seeing, He doubted that Bobby had lived this long, being as scrawny as he had been. Even if he had, Bobby's last name was lost in the fold of his fading memory. Funny how he could remember everything down to the color of his favorite socks but couldn't remember the damned kids' last name.

 

 

The old man watched her gaze linger on the counter before she continued, as though she wanted to make sure nobody was watching. When she finished what she had to say the man understood why she had shown caution.

 

 

“The girls here show little attention to anyone they wouldn’t have sex with. Talking to them sometimes…” She stopped and rolled her eyes, for a moment he thought she was going to ask him if he understood, and he was going to have to lie and say that he did. She didn’t ask though, she just sat there politely, as though she were not interrupting a man’s coffee.

“What do they say about me?” The man heard himself ask. The girl smiled softly, and the shame the man had felt in asking was quickly washed away by the beauty in her smile.

 

 

“Why you come here everyday, mostly. Jennifer thinks you come here to escape your wife for an hour. Felicia thinks you come here before taking the bus. Mia thinks you come here to watch the high school girls when they get off of class, the list goes on and on, really. I just wanted you to know that they see you. I think they are afraid to let you know that they recognize you.”

 

 

The man suddenly felt himself grow angry, unjustifiably angry considering the conversation. Who was she to think that cares whether or not these girls noticed him order coffee or not? What right did she have to take something as intimate as his loneliness and just read it like it was tattooed on his face.

 

 

“Why do you think I come here everyday?” The man asked. His anger deluding like the smoke it really was.

 

 

“Hmmm, give me a second to pick my words.” The man raised his eyebrow at this depth of wisdom coming from the girl. So many people speak regardless of whether or not they know what to say. This coming from a society who appreciates immediacy over forethought. The old man worked on his coffee while the girl thought, the answer was worth the wait.

 

 

“I think you come for two reasons. I think one is because you would like to remain a part of the world.” The man’s heart fell when she said this, she continued without noticing the slight bit of color that drained from his face. “The second would be to practice the lost art of observation. I guess those are both of part of the same thing, huh?”

 

 

“I would think so.” The man answered. She didn't notice him clear his throat.

 

 

“So are any of us close?” The girl asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

 

“I beg your pardon?” The man responded coyly.

 

 

“Are any of us close to the reason why you are here everyday?” The girl said louder, missing his teasing ploy.

 

 

“Now, if I answered that, I wouldn’t be a 'mystery man' anymore, would I?” The man answered, and instantly the girl erupted into laughter.

 

 

“No, I guess not!” She replied, obviously still amused. There was a moment of quiet after this and the man found himself hoping she wouldn’t go.

 

 

“So, how long have you been working here?” The man conjured the question after finishing his cup. The girl refilled his cup as soon as he set it back down.

 

 

“Too long.” The girl sighed, and by the tired tone of her voice the man knew this was true, despite her obvious youth. “This is close to my house though, then I take the bus to school. I’m studying to be a teacher.”

 

 

“Is that so? I was a professor for twenty three years.”

 

 

“I’m not surprised,” the girl responded with a shrug, “you have a patient air about you.” With that she stood, “after all, while you’ve quietly dealt with me for the last fifteen minutes”

 

 

“It was a pleasure to have your company, Mister…?” The girl offered her hand, which was still warm from the coffee server.

 

 

“Gregory Morgan. Everyone called me Greg.” The old man answered, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake.

 

 

“My name is Angelica. Unfortunately I’ve got a lot of work to do, Greg. You’d be amazed at the places I find coffee grinds.” The girl made a face that screamed 'bleh'., before smiling again. “ I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that she turned and the man watched her walk behind the counter and into the back kitchen area. Her last words, spoken with such casualty, still ran through his head. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’, he decided to make that a possibility.

 

 

The Greg opened the pill bottle, as was his custom. As oppose to taking six pills, however, he only took two. He had taken his vitamins and misc. pills out to make room for the morphine. In his hand he had enough of the stuff to bring down an angry bear, as his doctor had so eloquently put it back when he wrote the prescription.

 

 

Certainly enough to kill an old man with a bum hip.

 

 

Greg took his daily dosage, leaving the lethal remainder in his coat pocket.

 

 

Greg finished his coffee, and smiled as he enjoyed the realization that he was part of the world after all.

 

The End

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I do, as well. Of course, I've read the entire book already. smile.gif

 

Very good story. Can't wait for the hardback copy.

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Oh, pssh! Puuu-lease! We all know (or at least better) that you're so going to be doing this for a living after this one comes out. All I can say is that you better have more stories in the tank, or your career will be feirly short-lived! tongue.gif

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I think this story has elements of existentialism and therefore is tougher take in whole. I enjoy the fact that the old man went to the noisest place in order to be secluded. It shows that fact that he is still of the world as much as he wants to be left alone. The fact that he struggles with his existence and is trapped in the past smells of Sartre. I don't know if you ever read his stuff but I think you'd enjoy the passages about Bad Faith. You are hinting at the same dilemma that he saw in his works, that people are either trapped in the past or the future and therefore cannot be in the present.

 

Overall, I enjoyed it and await more!

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I think this story has elements of existentialism and therefore is tougher take in whole.  I enjoy the fact that the old man went to the noisest place in order to be secluded.  It shows that fact that he is still of the world as much as he wants to be left alone.  The fact that he struggles with his existence and is trapped in the past smells of Sartre.  I don't know if you ever read his stuff but I think you'd enjoy the passages about Bad Faith.  You are hinting at the same dilemma that he saw in his works, that people are either trapped in the past or the future and therefore cannot be in the present.

 

Overall, I enjoyed it and await more!

 

makes me want to namedrop ernest hemingway [a clean, well-lighted place]

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<3 existentialism

 

If you're into existentialism, check out Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto. Great book, in my opinion.

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A,

 

Excellent story! If that is just a small sample of your book, then I can tell it will most certainly be a success! :-) Can't wait til it comes out!

 

<3 Alec

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  • 2 weeks later...

My favorite is still The Lighthouse Keeper. You should post that...or at least a link to it, considering it's well over 40 pages, I believe. lol!

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