I sat down
at a circular table at Maggie’s Buns. The seat in my chair was woven and molded
to my bum as I settled in. As I waited for my iced chai, I observed everything
going on around me. The entire place was host to random objects, including my
table. A large purple lamp shone on and to its left and right sat pastel owl
salt and pepper shakers. A purple vase stood also with two fake daisies inside.
Coming at an awkward time of the day for most places, I am surrounded by tables
with dirty plates. It’s too late to be lunch, too early to be dinner. Directly
to my left is an old man who attempts to drink his black coffee, but his hands
shake so he often gets little in his mouth and most down his hand. Another
older man sits directly across from me, facing away. He also drinks a black
coffee and, like me, is paying attention to the events going on around him.
Hand under chin, he stares at the couple who is too far from earshot to hear
their conversation. They both drink their soup with impeccable manners
and seem to be in a very interesting conversation. Two tables down from me is a
lady enjoying her lunch over what is, seemingly, her typing and researching for
a very long report. That is what I gather anyways from her intent focus on her
PC screen and pages spewed all around her on the table, every one hosting
thousands of words. She wears a pin striped shirt and blazer, skinny jeans and
heals with a tight bun on the top of her blonde haired head. With her ear buds
in, she ignores the sounds that I am soaking in.
A weird
song plays overhead, something I’ve yet to have ever heard of, it has a sound
that is seemingly the mixture between jazz and reggae and the singer is
rapping. There is also the hustle and bustle of the people working behind the
counter. The young girl in the simple blue t-shirt and jeans wears a messy bun
as she stands behind the pastry case, “and we’re getting a brownie today right?”
she says is a very formal courteous voice. The elderly couple that was holding
hands on the other side of her and the pastry case analyzes the other items
within and then slowly nod, confirming.
My attention
is pulled away as the elderly man who can barely drink his coffee points out
the headliner in the local newspaper to the two elderly woman who sit directly
to my left. I soon find out that he can barely talk either.
“Bad thing happening in Boston isn’t it? It’s the Armageddon.”
he slurred. His voice stutters and is coarse, he sounded as if he has smoked
for a majority of his life.
“Yes they’re re-creating it.” said one of the elderly women.
She has a pixie cut that is flaming red.
That was all that was said as the elderly man picked up his
paper and left, murmuring to himself. The elderly women continue small talk
about their favorite pastries and such as they sip on their brews. The one that
sits opposite the pixie cut has dark brown hair, which is odd for an elderly
lady. She also has a nose ring, which is slightly more odd. As I analyze her,
she connects our gaze, and I, ashamed for being caught in snooping, look down
at my chai again and keep drinking. Nose ring lady answers the phone and walks
out as pixie cut drinks more of her coffee. They leave without engaging in any conversation.
I was boggled at how they drank their piping hot black coffees so fast. “Shit.”,
I thought to myself. “First of all, why won’t anyone sit within ear shot of me,
second, why are the majority of people coming alone, and third, why isn’t
anyone engaging in real conversation if they are with someone.” My butt starts hurting from the wicker chair,
it’s not as comfortable as it was at first and even worse, “Let’s get retarded”
is playing over the radio. “Everybody, everybody, get into it, get stupid” is
vibrating through my eardrums as I wish for anyone to sit near me and have a
conversation.
The bell on
the door rings and as I look up I connect eye contact with a tall, messy blonde
hair, very attractive guy whom was walking in. I try not to get distracted as I
focus on my work. Not being able to connect voices with faces, I turn around
and look back at the register and see if the voice I’m hearing is his, “May I
get a cinnamon roll?” It was, and he had a nice ass too. But after retrieving
his pastry, his went outside and sat on the curb of the street to eat it. There
are four us left in here. All girls. All sitting alone. All on laptops. Two
brunette. Two blonde. Two with ear buds, two without. No one is talking.
---
I think back to a month ago when I
was in a waiting room at the OB/GYN clinic. An overweight woman sat down
directly to my right and was, too loudly for a waiting room, arguing on the
phone.
“They’re trying to take my kids away. They have no right.”
“They do have a right” I think to myself, the lady looked
like she hadn’t bathed in a year. I started wondering if she was pregnant.
She started shaking her head and then answered whomever she
was talking to on her cellular device, “Well he gets out of prison next month,
so at least I won’t be alone. I miss him.”
I tried to focus on my Facebook news feed on my phone but I
couldn’t help my facial expression from turning to complete awe.
Her voice turned whiny, “NO! I told you that his
sexual charge was DROPPED [she enunciated this], that’s not why they
have the kids.”
It was very inappropriate but I tried
my best to hold in my laughter. The awkwardness of the situation and knowing
that I was hearing the details of her life appalled me to nervousness.
Thankfully within moments they called my name and brought me back to my
appointment.
---
I look back up from my laptop, one
of the girls have left. There is only three of us. My bum is getting sore. I’ve
been nursing this iced chai for two hours and it’s only half way gone. As I’m
looking up, I peer out the window and see Professor Johnson walk past, looking
over his shoulder. Weird.
---
Two years ago I was at the Oregon
Zoo with my niece. She ran ahead with her aunt, as I held back looking at the
leopard that was pacing right in front of the glass. Two little girls sat on
their kneecaps and cupped their hands around their eyes, pressing up as close
as possible to the ferocious cat. Suddenly the girl on the left turned to the girl
on the right, “What are those leetle furry balls for?!” The little girl on the
right peered into the glass quizzically before responding in a tone that was
very sure of herself, “Those are her little furry babies!” I choked down my
giggles as they crooned over the pacing leopard.
---
Conversation grabs my attention.
“How’s school going?” said a professor whom I did not know
the name of directed to the only person other than me left from the original
four on our laptops. He wore a tan blazer and jeans.
He kept a smile plastered on his face as he awkwardly nodded
his head at her responding, “It’s good, just looking for jobs for after I graduate”
she said. She was the one with the blue sweater and nerdy glasses.
“I’ll keep an eye out for ya.” he said as he pulled open the
door and left.
I heard the radio switch songs, “No, No, No , Don’t fuck with
my heart.” I shook my head, gathered my things as I left, gaining feeling back
into my bum.
