Walking down the city streets, is it by mistake or design...
There were days that her life felt like a dream; the here and now were real, tangible, but the past seemed a haze that was, at times, blurry. She couldn't pinpoint it. She could recall the first time she held Henry in her arms, could feel that tiny infant cradled against her, and yet...yet it seemed like a memory that was rehearsed. Moving to New York with him, his first day of school, all of them.
She was on her way into her office, deep in this reverie, when she stumbled into a man walking the other way. Her abrupt stop caused her coffee to spill out, covering both her and this stranger in the hot liquid. The man backed away, hissing in pain, and she just gawked for a moment, stammering an apology, "I...oh my...I'm so sorry. I-"
If she were a movie buff, she would have called this moment a meet-cute. But she wasn't, so it just seemed an unfortunate accident with a fairly attractive stranger. She didn't believe in fate, after all.
When their eyes met, the man's grumbling suddenly stopped, and he smiled, "Oh, hi. Sorry, I should have-"
"Don't apologize, I wasn't paying attention."
"I was lost in thought, and..."
They both stopped talking, smiling quietly for a moment.
The man offered his hand, still dripping coffee, "Walsh."
Emma gave a small chuckle, somewhat disbelieving of the interaction, and shook the offered hand, "Emma."
Walsh nodded, his eyes not leaving her face, "Nice to meet you Emma..."
Not wanting to get into some sort of introductory conversation, Emma shook her reverie, "Let me, uh, let me pay for those to be cleaned. I'm really so sorry."
He shook his head, "Absolutely not. I will, however, buy you a coffee."
She looked away, shifting her weight, "I don't know. I have a son, and I'm not really-"
His smile was disarming, "It's just coffee. Besides," he shrugged, "you owe me."
She groaned inwardly, "Okay. Fine, you're right." She leveled her business face at him, "Just coffee."
He held his arms up in surrender, "Just coffee," he chuckled, motioning across the street where a coffee shop was conveniently located. Dipping her head in acquiescence, she followed his lead to the nearby crosswalk.
Once inside, they placed their orders and sat at a table outside to let their clothes air out.
"Tell me about yourself, Emma," Walsh suggested, speaking over his mug, the steam blowing toward Emma, as if the conversion of liquid to vapor could be sexual.
"Well, I...I am a bails bondsman. I have a son, Henry, and I was on my way to work when I, quite literally, bumped into you."
She took a tentative sip of her own beverage, looking over at this stranger – Walsh, she reminded herself, rolling the name around her mind.
He choked on his coffee, "A bails bondsman? I wouldn't have, I mean, wow. That's fascinating."
She shrugged. Compared to her earlier life, catching people who had skipped bail was almost boring. Being on the run, a thief herself, that had been exciting. And, somehow, she felt that she was capable of so much more, but she never could have guessed what that much more could be, so she stayed where she was in life.
Walsh watched her a moment, then smiled, spoke again, his voice slightly higher-pitched, "And what do you do?"
She looked somewhat surprised, then embarrassed, and he continued, now in his normal voice, "I own a furniture store, actually."
Emma raised her eyebrow fractionally, "Oh, wow. I guess it's nearby?"
Walsh nodded and waved in vague direction, "A few blocks, yes. It was left to me, and I can't bear to part with it."
She hmmed at that, taking another sip of her coffee. Not one to open up to strangers, even strangers that she had just doused in coffee who then offered to buy her another coffee, she wasn't sure what else to say. She felt kind of lost, and her earlier reverie was still floating around her mind. How was she supposed to discuss her life when it felt so surreal?
"Do you have any other family in the area?" Walsh pressed, cutting into the silence.
She smiled sadly, "No other family. Just me and my son."
She offered no more than that, and he didn't press, realizing that the silence was more comfortable for her.
Aside from small talk, they didn't say much else, content to simply sit with one another, getting used to their presence. As their cups emptied, and Walsh realized his time was running out, he reached across, wrapping his hand over her wrist, "Emma, I would regret it forever if I didn't ask for your number. I'd like to take you to dinner sometime."
She hesitated, her eyes falling to his hand there on her wrist. Gradually, somewhat reluctantly, she nodded, reaching into her pocket for an old receipt or something and a pen. She looked up at him with a small smile, as she wrote the numbers onto the paper. She slid it across and stood, "Okay, Walsh. But for now, I have to go home, change, and then get to work."
He smiled back, watching her stand, then standing himself, "Then I will take my leave of you, Emma. Thank you." He held up the scrap of paper. She nodded, turned and walked back the way she had come.
She didn't look back; she was good at keeping her eyes forward. But she felt a slight flutter in her chest. It was ridiculous, she knew, but it had been so long...so long since she had met an actual gentleman. It felt like a minor victory, and she wouldn't allow herself to be overly optimistic, but she was trying to learn to accept the good things when they came, too. So if a secret smile found its way to her lips, well, she would just pretend it wasn't because of this stranger, this Walsh.
Walsh watched her go, looked down and tapped the number into his phone. When she was out of sight, he walked back the other way, selecting a number on his phone, and putting the receive to his ear.
He smiled at a few passerby, then glanced at the phone after a moment, "It's me. It's worked. I've offered to take her to dinner."
He nodded at whatever was said at the other end, "I don't believe so. She said she had no family, that it was just her and the boy. She didn't tell me much, but she will."
He hung up, slid the phone back into his pocket and continued on.