Shorties: Number 18

Starbucks was officially removed from the list of regular hangouts.  Keith could no longer bear it.  There were too many memories of her there.  He would continue to buy coffee there and flirt with his favorite baristas but he could never again stay to read the paper and sip coffee.

It was Keith’s routine on off days to read leftover newspapers and drink coffee.  He had gone there for years and knew all the employees and managers by name.  Keith knew the names of their children and the owner’s grandchildren.  They all knew him and started serving his Casi Cielo coffee when they saw his car.  Keith was a staple in the establishment.  For him to not be in his chair every Saturday was an impossible thing to consider.  Nevertheless, Keith had to make the impossible a reality.

For many years when he wasn’t reading his paper or teasing the baristas about his coffee being cold, he was on his phone chatting with an old friend.  Before the Internet, before children, before marriage, before a career, they were pen pals.  Both had an interest in learning about cultures in the world.  For some reason, God saw fit for them to meet and become friends. 

What started as letter exchanges once or twice a month became a running string of conversation at all hours of the day.  The two were inseparable and knew each other as intimately as lovers.  They confided in one another and trusted each other. 

Then came the day when Keith heard nothing.  This had happened once or twice before and he was concerned each time but she came back and they picked up where they left off.  Keith hoped and believed this would be no worse.  It was.

Only Keith’s dearly departed spouse knew of this relationship.  His dear friend told no one.  As dark days were strung together like acidic pearls, Keith felt a dense fog roll in like nothing since his wife died.  Not knowing her fate dug into his soul.  As he sat in Starbucks pretending to read the paper, he could only wonder what happened? 

Was there a word written in jest that cracked the foundations?  Could such a rift grow without his knowledge?  Surely they were too close for him not to notice.  Was she sick?  He would gladly send flowers and cards.  Being retired, he would and could fly to be with her.  Was she so ill she couldn’t make any contact?  Even a simple note to say she was too sick to talk would end the agony. 

As he looked around the Starbucks, memories of conversations flooded back.  How was his recall so clear in this moment?  He could even remember teasing Megan, the barista, before returning to his seat and conversation.  So much had been said and shared in this place.  The life of each word haunted him.  Every spirit became a millstone to which he was chained.  What was once a place of joy was now a dungeon.  He had to leave and escape the interment. 

For a long time, Keith wouldn’t allow the thought to form.  Each time it knocked on the door of his heart he refused to step closer.  When weeks turned to months, it pounded and shook his foundations.  She was dead.  There was no other explanation.  As he drove home after picking up his Starbucks, he fiercely brawled with tears that flooded his eyes.  After shutting off the engine, he forced his eyes closed.  Tears leaked through the creases of his eyelids. 

Embarrassed, he hurried into the house.  Men his age didn’t cry.  It wasn’t done.  No one was there to see him save his trusty beagle, Daisy.  As always, she greeted him with love and appreciation but noticed something was different.  Keith placed the coffee cup on the counter and raced to his study, Daisy behind him. 

He looked around the room with despair in his eyes.  He was sinking without any answers.  Finally, he fell into the desk chair, elbows to his knees.  He covered his face in agony and shame.  His shoulders shook.  Daisy saw it all and wondered.  She did the only thing a dog that loves her master could do.  She placed her head upon his leg.