I sat across from Bobby, brewing a super strong, super large cup of orange spiced tea. The place where we were served everything in to-go cups. So, when we had our order in hand, we had grabbed a table. He had prepared his coffee quickly, and was now quietly watching the production I was making in creating the perfect cup of hot tea.
When I was satisfied with the strength of the tea, I removed the tea bags and dumped in a whole lot of sugar. Then I replaced the lid and took a small sip, tasting my concoction. I was satisfied that it was as delicious as I hoped, and I placed the cup down on the table. When I looked up at Bobby, he was watching me, smiling.
"Do you want some tea with that sugar?" He asked, referring to the couple of tablespoons of sugar I had added.
"I like it very strong, and very sweet." I tried to explain. He nodded, though I noticed he was still smiling. When we had first arrived, walking through the door practically together, I wondered if meeting him like this would be a mistake, a gigantic uncomfortable mistake. If he was comfortable enough to tease me about how I like my tea, then maybe meeting like this would turn out OK.
"You were good at testifying today." He offered.
"Thanks." I said, wondering if there was something in particular he wanted to talk with me about. But, since we were not in my office, I realized I should probably not expect to talk about some deep issue, and that I should try to answer with more than a single word.
"You know, one of the hardest things about testifying is how I dress." I offered, and he looked at me, tilting his head a bit in the way he did when he found something interesting or strange.
"I testified for the defense last year, kind of a high profile case. The jury consultant they had actually took me shopping. She said I needed to look professional, smart, yet the jury needed to connect with me. So, she recommended I wear a simple skirt and sweater, not a suit, that I wear my hair up, but not too severely, and that I wear my glasses, even though I don't need them to see distances." I offered, taking another sip of my delicious tea.
"So, on the days I testify in court, I find myself standing in front of my closet thinking about those things. Strange, you know, when I should be thinking about what I am going to say. But I guess I have that pretty down pat, the attorney's usually go over my testimony before I set foot in court. No surprises." I mentioned, kind of prattling on.
"So, here we are, having coffee." I said, in a leading kind of way, gently probing if there was something on his mind.
"And tea." Bobby said, making me think he simply wanted to see me, or that he wasn't ready to address what prompted him to catch me in the courthouse earlier.
"Read any good books lately." I offered, a bit sarcastically; in a throw away kind of get a conversation started kind of way.
"Not really." He said, responding, and then he realized I was kind of joking with him.
"Do you come here often?" I asked, this time serious. But, I could tell by the way he looked at me he was trying to judge if I was still kidding him.
"Really, do you?" I asked again, letting him know it was a genuine question.
"No, not really. But I need to buy a new pair of sneakers, and the store is just down the block." He offered. And I thought, now we were getting somewhere.
"Well, lets go." I said, standing, and his eyes widened a bit in surprise.
"Do you mind if you bring a girl to buy sneakers?" I asked. "Or is it a guy thing?"
"No, no, uh, we can go buy sneakers." He said, standing, putting his coat on.
"Well, it's a good think they served us with these to-go cups." I smiled, leading the way out of the coffee shop.
"To the right." He said, directing me, and then he fell into step beside me.
"So, what do you look for in a sneaker?" I asked.
"My size." He said, looking down at his feet, which I realized probably not every store carried his large size.
"Probably a good thing, to have the right size." I smiled.
"Something plain, I guess. White, or mostly white." He offered.
"Something with good support." He added.
"Good laces." He furthered, and I realized he was catching on to the art of casual conversation.
"How about traction?" I inquired.
"Traction is good." He replied, and I think I might have actually heard him laugh.
"Here we are." He stopped and held the door for me.
I watched him scan the store for an area that seemed to have plain, mostly white sneakers, with good tread, and strong laces. I reached out to take his coffee cup so that he could inspect a few pairs of sneakers. When the salesperson came his way, I kind of milled around on my own so that he could ask for what he wanted to try on.
I was standing on the women's side, when someone came up behind me and wrapped their arms around me, kissing me on my cheek.
"Aunt Lucy." The very familiar voice of my 17-year-old nephew Jake said into my ear.
"Shopping for sneakers?" Jake asked. I was about to respond when I realized that Bobby had suddenly appeared in front of me. I could tell he was concerned, and a bit on the alert that someone had come up behind me.
"Not me." I said, as my nephew let me out of his hold.
"Detective Bobby Goren, this is my nephew Jake Horn." I made the introduction. Jake stood there, openly sizing up Bobby, who was standing there looking like he felt a bit foolish for reacting like I was being mugged.
"Are you shopping for sneakers?" I asked Jake. "Your mom said your team won the other night. Did you burn up the court so much you need new shoes?" I teased.
"Funny." Jake smiled at me, but he was also still looking at Bobby.
"What position do you play?" Bobby asked Jake. I listened to Jake respond, and then kind of tuned out the sports talk. It was clear to me that Bobby had an interest in basketball, the conversation turned kind of technical almost right away. Well, technical to my non-basketball-brain, anyway.
I kind of wandered off leaving the two of them to talk, still carrying my tea, and Bobby's coffee. I knew that Jake would be on the phone to my sister (his mom) as soon as he left the store, updating her that I was shopping for sneakers with some guy. I wondered how I would answer her question about who Bobby was and why I was out shopping with someone. I knew the conversation would circle back around somehow to Emil. She really did not hide the fact that she did not like how Emil seemed to string me along. She kept insisting that I needed a change, that either Emil needed to decide what he wanted from me, or that I should move on and open myself to someone new.
"See you later Lucy." Jake called to me, interrupting my thoughts, and gave me a wave as he walked out the door. I smiled and gestured in return.
"Nice kid." Bobby said, reaching out to take his cup of coffee from me.
"Yeah, he really is." I agreed. Not everyone 17-year-old boy was a nice kid.
"They don't have my size. They're ordering a pair for me to try on." Bobby explained. I could hear my blackberry making a ding-dong noise, reminding me that I needed to get going if I was to be on time for meeting a friend for dinner.
"Do you need to get that?" He asked, thinking it was my phone ringing.
"It's just a reminder. I'm meeting my friend Annie for dinner at 7:00." I explained. I followed him out of the store.
"I guess that means you should get going." He offered.
"Yeah, probably." I agreed. "Thanks for the tea." I said, my cup now empty.
"Strong and sweet." He said.
"Strong and sweet." I agreed, wondering to myself if I was simply talking about the tea.
"Lucy." Bobby said my name as I was about to turn and go.
"Thanks." He said to me.
"Maybe we could, uh, do this again sometime." He rushed out the words.
"There are probably only so many pairs of sneakers that one man needs." I teased him, and he kind of furrowed his brow.
"So, next time, we will have to pick a different errand." I said, answering his question, indicating that "doing this again sometime" would be fine with me.
"Right." He nooded, and he hailed a cab for me, opening the door for me to get again.
"Maybe we could find a good book for me to read." He said, rather wittily circling back around to what I said earlier.
"Maybe." I laughed, as he closed the door on the cab, just as I predicted my phone was ringing, and I could see it was my sister calling. I let it go to voicemail.
A/N: Normally, I have this urge to jump into a homicide, or drama, or something... let me know what you think – reviews are very welcome.