Chapter Two: Week Three
It had become routine. A sadly misunderstood and strangely comforting Thursday night ritual practiced by him, Karen, and a single cup of bewildered coffee.
Three weeks had passed since he had first found his way to this empty counter. The words exchanged were few and far between, but Dan found solace in her silence. Hell, it was better than sitting alone stewing in his own bitterness, he considered quickly.
Trying anxiously not to ruin his Karen-induced mellowness, he pushed the internal comment away focusing rather on her wonderfully brewed coffee. He had missed out on a lot in life because of the mistakes he had made, and now, he thought trivially, he could add the caf's drink selection to that list.
"What are you doing here?" a voice broke abruptly through his line of thought. He raised his head away from the dark pool of liquid only to realize that he was deeply knotted in Karen's suddenly hardened glare.
He sighed, realizing from her incriminating stare that she expected an answer. Although he should have been anticipating this, to be honest, he hadn't really expected it. The question was formed as though she didn't know him. And the stinging reality was that from her perspective she didn't.
When it was obvious that he had nothing to say, she continued, "Well, I've run the possible scenarios through my head and none of them make any sense." She finished skeptically, wringing a dishtowel between her hands.
"It's the coffee," he smirked in a confident tone even though inside he was grappling for a response.
She scoffed. Loudly. Disbelievingly. And a part of him wanted to smear the righteousness right off of her face. For someone who implied little knowledge of his motivations, she was sure quick to jump on his answers.
"What?" he bit back now irritated at her questioning. "It's not possible that I enjoy the drink selections? Maybe it's the quaint ambiance of your fine establishment," he said, the sarcasm dripping like warm molasses. "Or maybe I'm just here to piss you off," he pronounced spitefully, knowing that's what she probably wanted to hear.
She turned away from cutting remark. "Look," she started, "we both know that Deb is not here on Thursday nights, and if this is just another way to mess with Lucas, I'm putting my foot down."
"This isn't about Lucas," he erupted with disdain. Perhaps, he thought in retrospect, not the best way to speak about her son.
Slowly, she turned back around, heated anger crackling from her stare. "It never is with you," she seethed quietly.
"The kid's better off that way, anyway," he mumbled, pushing himself away from the counter, knowing it was time to quit and proud of himself for giving her enough respect to actually disengage from the conversation now as opposed to later. He began to walk away, dreading his last step through the door because he knew it would be his last.
And like the god sent he knew she was, her voice called out behind him. "What are you looking for Dan?" she questioned hesitantly. Insightfully. "It's not Nathan," she added, referring to how this all started. "What is it?"
He paused at the door, wondering silently if it was just morbid curiosity on her behalf or if she really cared enough to want to unlock that complicated and shameful mystery.
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Oh, I need the darkness
The sweetness
The sadness
…………………………………………..
He stared outside captivated by the blackness of the sky. It would be so easy, he thought, to leave now and not respond. All he had to do was will himself to push open the door and ignore her pleasantly soft voice, but he wasn't ready to give up this ritual, the routine. In three weeks, it had become a part of him. He needed her and her temperate nature. He didn't even mind her just anger – because, to be honest, it was always used appropriately.
He rotated around to catch her inquisitive glare. A part of him had hoped she wouldn't be there. That she would have given up on his silence, on his frustration, and retreated to her work. But there she was, standing still as a rock in a stream. His contradiction, he grinned sadly. No matter how much he pushed, she stayed strong. No matter how far away he thought he placed her, she was right in front of him.
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The weakness
Oh, I need this
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It was at this moment that he gave up. He didn't use a grand act or eloquent declaration. It wasn't obvious or overt. Rather, he quietly let his walls crumble down realizing that with all the people in his life, she was the one he didn't want to hold back.
It was ridiculous really, he chided himself. He didn't have a chance with her. Knowing she would listen would have to be enough.
"I'm looking for myself." The words fell from his lips reluctantly. They had been a long time coming, and he was certain they would never be uttered again.
She waited a moment. Searching him for ulterior motives. Searching herself for the uncertain strength.
She turned, and he quickly regretted ever opening up.
"Sit down," she whispered so lightly he almost thought he had made it up in his wishful mind until he saw her turn back to the counter with a coffee pot in hand. She poured the steaming liquid, refilling and revitalizing his cup and morale.
He walked over wordlessly, truly stunned at her gesture. Sitting down, he clasped the warmth of the mug in front of him and marveled in the unwarranted warmth all around him when he was with her.
