It wasn't my usual evening venue. The cafe was charming, tasteful, but filled with the sort of tragically hip society I prefer to avoid, especially while travelling. I might not have even gone in, but for the music I heard drifting through the doorway. A lone voice, a lone guitar. The singer had a quiet, earnest quality that drew me in almost before I realized it. One of my favorite English accents, just barely detectable in song, came through strong and clear as he announced the next number he would play...
After the performance, the crowd mostly cleared out, presumably to hit the next place at which to be seen, and I watched as a small group of teenagers congratulated the singer; one of them even hugged him before turning to leave. I decided they must be a son or daughter and friends, though all of them had a typically American mode of speech. He smiled as he wiped his guitar down with a cloth, and lovingly placed it in a case. He was tall, with the kind of figure that was probably lean and lanky in younger years, and still fairly fit-looking. He had light wavy hair, light eyes, and an expression of both wisdom and fatigue. I took him to be around 10 years older than me. Not quite my idea of handsome, but somehow I found myself wanting a closer look.
Feeling bold as I saw him start to head out, I called over, "May I stand you a cup of tea before you leave?"
I startled him. He looked up and I know he was about to shake his head, when something clicked in his expression, and he started back my way, saying, "I'd very much appreciate it, thanks."
Wiggling my fingers at the waitress, I spoke, "If you'll allow me, I know just the right blend for a tired throat," and with another surprised look and a smile, he nodded.
The waitress approached, and I said, "More Oolong for me, please, and since this place is obviously so hip and now, I'm guessing you can combine a green tea with licorice and ginger for my new friend here?" I followed up with my best winning smile. "With a little honey, please."
She chuckled a little, and replied, "We can definitely manage that," and, winking at the singer, walked away.
Seeing the slightly concerned look on his face, I reassured him, "You'll love this, I promise. It will have the light body of one of your English teas, but with some healing oomph. Realizing I'd been a bit pushy, I went on, "I know I seem a little forward, but I promise I don't bite."
Wow, the odd expression on his face when I said that! Then he cleared his throat and spoke, "Yes, well, I feel a bit like a little boy who's been taken in hand by Nanny after playing outside in the rain." Clearing his throat again, he continued, "My name is Rupert, by the way. May I enquire to whom I owe this pleasurable treatment?"
My turn to look a little shocked. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Call me Mer, if you please. I'm not usually so forward or so rude, but I like looking out for people who seem like they could use a little, eh, care. I enjoyed your performance, and wanted to offer something in return."
"An apology is not necessary. I'm happy to make your acquaintance, actually. Are you new to Sunnydale?" He smiled as the tea arrived, inhaling the steam before taking a first sip.
Well. I didn't think it was quite proper to tell him I was a lone traveler, even if he did *look* harmless enough. "I'm here visiting friends for a few days, but they had a wedding reception to attend this evening, so I took the opportunity to explore a bit." After all, it was Friday night; I am sure there was a reception going on somewhere just then.
He replied, "Yes, I see. Well, I imagine your friends have spoken of it, but I feel I must warn you that this town, while quite charming in the daytime, can be a bit risky to roam through after dark."
Oh, that accent. Those kind, intelligent, twinkling eyes. I knew I was hooked. What I was going to do about it, though, that was a matter for later consideration. "Lots of towns are like that, I am sure. Day and age and all. But your concern is definitely noted. How's your tea?"
"Quite interesting, quite soothing, actually. I do thank you." He did seem to be drinking it, and I watched the way his hand curved around the large oval-shaped mug. They sure make them giant-sized these days. Mugs, I mean!
We sat without speaking for a few minutes. The light outside had been sunset pink and gold, but was now muting grey, as evening advanced. I love daylight savings time, the shift in how we view the clock allowing us more light later in the day. I felt comfortable and at peace just at that moment, watching my new friend sip his tea, watching him settle into the peculiar position he'd found himself in, like someone who is initially awkward, then finds his ease, no matter the situation.
Ready to engage Rupert in a little more conversation, I spoke, "I enjoyed your music very much, and I'm glad you didn't play Free Bird."
End of Chapter One. There are about two more to follow, and I assure you, they are forthcoming soon.
After the performance, the crowd mostly cleared out, presumably to hit the next place at which to be seen, and I watched as a small group of teenagers congratulated the singer; one of them even hugged him before turning to leave. I decided they must be a son or daughter and friends, though all of them had a typically American mode of speech. He smiled as he wiped his guitar down with a cloth, and lovingly placed it in a case. He was tall, with the kind of figure that was probably lean and lanky in younger years, and still fairly fit-looking. He had light wavy hair, light eyes, and an expression of both wisdom and fatigue. I took him to be around 10 years older than me. Not quite my idea of handsome, but somehow I found myself wanting a closer look.
Feeling bold as I saw him start to head out, I called over, "May I stand you a cup of tea before you leave?"
I startled him. He looked up and I know he was about to shake his head, when something clicked in his expression, and he started back my way, saying, "I'd very much appreciate it, thanks."
Wiggling my fingers at the waitress, I spoke, "If you'll allow me, I know just the right blend for a tired throat," and with another surprised look and a smile, he nodded.
The waitress approached, and I said, "More Oolong for me, please, and since this place is obviously so hip and now, I'm guessing you can combine a green tea with licorice and ginger for my new friend here?" I followed up with my best winning smile. "With a little honey, please."
She chuckled a little, and replied, "We can definitely manage that," and, winking at the singer, walked away.
Seeing the slightly concerned look on his face, I reassured him, "You'll love this, I promise. It will have the light body of one of your English teas, but with some healing oomph. Realizing I'd been a bit pushy, I went on, "I know I seem a little forward, but I promise I don't bite."
Wow, the odd expression on his face when I said that! Then he cleared his throat and spoke, "Yes, well, I feel a bit like a little boy who's been taken in hand by Nanny after playing outside in the rain." Clearing his throat again, he continued, "My name is Rupert, by the way. May I enquire to whom I owe this pleasurable treatment?"
My turn to look a little shocked. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Call me Mer, if you please. I'm not usually so forward or so rude, but I like looking out for people who seem like they could use a little, eh, care. I enjoyed your performance, and wanted to offer something in return."
"An apology is not necessary. I'm happy to make your acquaintance, actually. Are you new to Sunnydale?" He smiled as the tea arrived, inhaling the steam before taking a first sip.
Well. I didn't think it was quite proper to tell him I was a lone traveler, even if he did *look* harmless enough. "I'm here visiting friends for a few days, but they had a wedding reception to attend this evening, so I took the opportunity to explore a bit." After all, it was Friday night; I am sure there was a reception going on somewhere just then.
He replied, "Yes, I see. Well, I imagine your friends have spoken of it, but I feel I must warn you that this town, while quite charming in the daytime, can be a bit risky to roam through after dark."
Oh, that accent. Those kind, intelligent, twinkling eyes. I knew I was hooked. What I was going to do about it, though, that was a matter for later consideration. "Lots of towns are like that, I am sure. Day and age and all. But your concern is definitely noted. How's your tea?"
"Quite interesting, quite soothing, actually. I do thank you." He did seem to be drinking it, and I watched the way his hand curved around the large oval-shaped mug. They sure make them giant-sized these days. Mugs, I mean!
We sat without speaking for a few minutes. The light outside had been sunset pink and gold, but was now muting grey, as evening advanced. I love daylight savings time, the shift in how we view the clock allowing us more light later in the day. I felt comfortable and at peace just at that moment, watching my new friend sip his tea, watching him settle into the peculiar position he'd found himself in, like someone who is initially awkward, then finds his ease, no matter the situation.
Ready to engage Rupert in a little more conversation, I spoke, "I enjoyed your music very much, and I'm glad you didn't play Free Bird."
End of Chapter One. There are about two more to follow, and I assure you, they are forthcoming soon.