Cat and Mouse
The sun was just coming up, bathing everything in a warm pink and orange haze, like bubbles, he thought. Jack watched as the sun silently crept up the walls, light slowly touching everything. There were only two other patrons in the diner this early, and though he’d never been here, he felt at home.
As he sat, he bounced, the almost unnoticeable tremors causing little ripples to dance across the black surface of his coffee. He never intended to drink the coffee. In fact, he hated coffee, but his hands were freezing and today, of all days he needed them to be warm. For her.
Jack glanced down at the coffee in his mug, then back out the window. A few feet away, a yellow taxi sat lifeless on the curb. The driver slept, his head resting on the window, mouth gaping open. Though he couldn’t hear it, Jack imagined that the driver was snoring, a deep guttural rumble, similar to an angry dog about to bark.
Watching the sleepy Cabbie reminded Jack of how tired he was. Though he’d tried, sleep had never come. His mind was abuzz with images of the day ahead. Three times in the night Jack had crawled from his bed and re-read the email just to be sure:
Sundays I get coffee from this little place on Broadway and 49th. I can’t spell the name but there is a good chance you’ll find me under the lights.
Jules
Jules. He loved that she’d signed the message with her nickname. Or maybe that was what everyone called her now. He had no idea. She’d given him no name, only street coordinates. That seemed like a very Julia thing to do. At first he’d found her mysteriousness charming, alluring in a way.
Much like the games of hide and seek they had played as children during the humid summers at camp. The dense Georgia foliage was a child’s dream, providing pockets of shade and endless places to hide. Julia had long blonde hair that danced across her lower back as she ran away from him. He always found her by following the scent of her shampoo on the wind. It was intoxicating. And although time had passed and many memories had faded, that scent had stayed with him.
……
The next morning he learned there were five coffee shops on Broadway and within walking distance of 49th. After the first few shops he found her charade charming, fun almost. But with every clingle of the bell, every new aroma from a different blend of coffee, and every dimly lit shop, Jack grew anxious.
He finally decided to sit in coffee shop number 4. Jules and lights were nowhere to be found and his nerves were about shot. He needed to regroup. What if she wasn’t there? What if there were no lights? What if he’d missed her somehow? His mind raced. So there he was, sitting, watching a snoring cabbie wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into a game of cat and mouse 15 years overdue.
The coffee in his hands had stopped steaming ages ago. He knew he needed to get moving but he couldn’t seem to will himself to stand. He pulled a few bills from his jean pocket and laid them on the plastic tablecloth, debating if he should even try the final shop or call it a loss.
Just as he was pondering his next move, Jack’s eyes strayed one last time to the window. Walking briskly past was a tall, slender woman, in a flowy dress, ill-equipped for the brisk breeze common in New York to the fall. On her head, the woman wore a red, floppy hat that contrasted dramatically with her blonde hair. She walked quickly, holding the cap to her head in response to a gust of wind.
Julia.
Without even thinking Jack was on his feet, knocking the table with his knees and sending the mug of cold coffee spilling all over the bills he’d just placed there. With a quite ,”sorry” jack pulled on his black leather jacket and was outside within seconds. Locals seemed to be coming out in masses, the sidewalk suddenly more alive than it had been just moments before. Maybe twenty yards ahead Jack could make out the top of the girls head with the floppy red hat.
So many people, Jack thought as he waded, half running through the people on the sidewalk. The girl turned a corner and Jack slowed willing himself to breathe. As he approached the corner he saw a small door, with a wooden sign above it.
Caffe Bene 1611 Broadway
Four letters. She couldn’t spell four letters. He chuckled. After thirty more seconds of rest Jack entered the shop behind two teenage girls.
The shop was small, crammed with Sunday morning regulars. The ceilings were tall and paneled with reclaimed wood. The walls of the shop were covered top to bottom with books. An older woman with hair in a gray bun stood on a ladder a few feet away skimming books far above her head.
Toward the back of the shop Jack saw what he was looking for. Under and canopy of twenty or more hanging light bulbs, there was a wooden table surrounded by woven wicker armchairs. Though there was room for at least 5 or 6 people to sit, all seats were vacant. Except one.
Bathed in the warm yellow glow cast by the excessive, shadeless bulbs, sat the girl in the red hat. Except this time the hat lay beside her on the table, revealing a lovely, oval face and the same green eyes Jack had painted into his mind for many years. She was more beautiful than he had imagined. The round cheeks of childhood had given way to delicate cheekbones, dusted rose and the toothless grin of a little girl now hid behind wine colored lips.
Jack stared for what must have been hours, watching her calmly thumb through a magazine. And then she looked up. Caught. Instead of disgust or alarm, her eyes softened when she saw him.
She spoke first, revealing perfectly white teeth beneath her crimson lips.
“Jackson Jones. Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to sit down?” She smiled, gesturing to the seat beside her.
“Julia.” Jack breathed.
“Jules. Only mama calls me Julia.”
Only my mother calls me Jackson. It’s just Jack.”
“Well, Just Jack, you’re hair is longer and your face is much cleaner, but I’d have recognized you anywhere.”
He blushed. “You look the same too, only prettier….. not that you weren’t beautiful before,...” he trailed off, embarrassed.
“ I was twelve. No one is beautiful at twelve.” She said.
He wanted to tell her she was wrong. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld in all his thirteen years. The kind of beauty that haunts your dreams even fifteen years later and makes it hard to sleep. He wanted to. But he didn’t. Yet.