by Ruth Margaret Pardee

 

            Murray flipped the lights on. The coffee shop gleamed, each marble surface bouncing light around the room. It was 6 AM, too early to be working Murray thought as he rubbed a sleepy eye. The boss trusted Murray to open the store on Mondays since he’d hit his six month anniversary of working there a couple weeks ago. A B.A. in philosophy to get the key to the shop, he thought as he flipped on the classical music.

            “Hey.” Turning, he felt the breeze before he heard the door shut. The ten metal hoops in Aggie’s ear fogged over as she came in from the cold. One hand shoved her black bangs behind her ear (which were always falling in her eyes) while the other pushed her bike key in her tote. Her eyes glanced at Murray behind the counter.

            “Hey,” he returned.

            Once they were both secured in polyester smocks, they waited. There were a few customers. The only ones who came this early were high-powered executives. The men had creases in their pant legs and the women clacked through the store in their stiletto heels. They were already late for the commute to the city. Murray chewed a hangnail as he waited at the cash register.

            Then she came in. Yup, Murray thought glancing at the clock, 6:42. His back straightened and he wished he’d remembered to get a haircut last weekend. He watched through his bangs as she glanced at the menu (although she knew what she wanted), paused at the yellow line “Please Wait Here To Be Served” (although there was no one in line), and placed both hands on the marble top. Murray watched her eyes search the board. There was a slight smudge of makeup on her top eyelids and outlines of crow’s feet at their corners. He glanced down at her hands as soon as she looked forward.

“I’ll have coffee please, with room for cream.”

“Will that be all for you?” Murray knew it would be all for her.

“Yes, thank you.”

His arms hung stiffly at his sides as he walked to pour the coffee. An inch and a half from the top. Back to the counter, glance at those eyes again, push the coffee across the marble. See you tomorrow at 6:42.

“Have a great day,” Murray said to her slick ponytail as the door shut behind her.

 

 

“Whatchya thinking about?” Aggie poked him with her washcloth hand, the other hand on her hip.

“What? Nothing,” Murray was quick to reply. 6:42’s searching face replayed in his head, her bare hands gripping the marble.

“Ha, yeah right, I know you better than that,” Aggie laughed.

Murray’s head spun with possibilities.

 

 

He laid in bed. Well, not in bed, in couch. He was in the middle of his living room/bedroom. Versatility is a strong trait in those with one room apartments. It helped that he never had company to entertain. Murray flipped to his other side and readjusted his grandmother’s crochet blanket to cover him.

She crept into his mind again. Those beautiful hands, with no ring, no blemishes. He knew she had never married. Not her. She was probably sitting at home now, maybe asleep, maybe brushing her teeth while staring in the mirror. He knew she was waiting to find the perfect person too.

 

 

As the door shut at 6:43, Murray’s head was firing explosives. She was alone. She was single. She was perfect. She had to be his.

Murray had asked the girl with the locker next to his to his junior prom. She had blushed and given a stammering No as her friends giggled behind her. Murray knew he could not ask out 6:42. Those eyes might squint if she giggled.

But if she came with me, Murray thought, she would learn to like me. Learn to love me. She just needs to see what I’m like, be with me just for a bit and fall in love. His smooth cheek crinkled with his smile as Aggie tapped his shoulder to show him a funny face she’d just made up.

 

Maybe Murray could wait outside at 6:45 on Thursday, his day off. Just accidentally bump into her. ‘Oh hi, I didn’t see you there. Say, don’t you buy coffee from me…’ But maybe she’d spill it on her black suit she wears Thursday. He knew she needed it again Monday when she would wear it again. He couldn’t throw off her laundry cycle.

Okay, Murray thought, I can’t ask her out, I can’t meet her in the real world. I don’t really have any other option, do I? Murray’s thoughts made him blush, but he knew it was his only option.

 

The wooden arm of Murray’s couch served as a good writing surface. All he had written was a big block 6:42, written like the red numbers of his digital clock. That wasn’t getting him anywhere. Maybe a more direct attack was what he needed.

The floor plan of the coffee shop he’d sketched looked like the plans for a bank robbery he’d once seen on a bad pay-per-view. He shaded in the edges while he thought. Okay, something to lure her in, he thought. I just need that enticement, a bit of time and that’s all we need. We’ll drive to Vegas. He’d heard they have fast weddings there. That’s all we need, just a bit of time.

 

Murray reviewed his plan as he walked through the fog. It was Friday morning, which would give them enough time to have a few rest stops and still get there before Saturday. It was perfect. At 6:42, she’d enter. He’d be behind the counter. She’d ask for coffee. ‘No problem,’ he’d answer. ‘Oh, there don’t seem to be any cups. Could you come back here and get them down from the back while I get the lids?’ She’d walk back, not notice the puddle Murray had “accidentally spilled,” and would fall. Not too hard, but she’d be on the ground and would wake up to his face asking if she were alright. He’d help her up, maybe even get her ice for her headache. He may have to ad lib a bit but soon she’d realize he was her special someone and the two could be off before sunrise. Perfect plan. Murray thought his face would fall off from his sustained grin.

The lights were on, music playing, a few customers already through. 6:41. Murray had already remade the puddle twice after Aggie kept cleaning it up thinking the sink was leaking. He glanced to the empty cup rack and then to the clock. 6:42. And there was the swoosh of the door. His heart raced, his heels bouncing on the tile, and he turned his head in slow motion down to those pointed shoes, pinstriped skirt, soft hands, and finally smudged eyelids looking up to the menu. He felt his throat thicken and was suddenly conscious of how often he was swallowing.

“I’ll have two coffees please, one with room for cream.”

“No probl-” Wait. Had she said two? Two? That wasn’t part of his plan.

Murray stupidly stared with his mouth open, his bangs obscuring his vision.

“Two coffees…Are you alright?” 6:42 was asking Murray if he was alright.

“Umm, yes.” Murray turned quickly towards the coffee machine. He lost his balance on the water and grabbed the countertop to steady himself. It’s alright just get the coffee. The coffees. Shit there are no cups. Murray’s arms stayed stiff to his smock as he ran in the back, grabbed the stack, ran back, poured the two coffees, pushed them both across to 6:42. He kept his eyes on the cash register as she thanked him. He looked up to see her padded shoulders hunched over, pouring her cream. She held a coffee in each hand. Her ponytail had a slight curl at the bottom. She had difficulty grabbing the door with her foot. Murray stared as she contorted her leg to pull open the door, watched through the glass as she reached out to a salt-and-pepper haired man standing at the corner. He took the coffee, and slid his hand down the seam of her pinstriped skirt at her hip, pulling her close. Murray watched them walk away, his mouth still open.

“HELLOOO MURRAAYY.”

Murray realized Aggie had been yelling at him.

“What’s with you? What’re you looking at?” Aggie shifted her eyes out the glass window to look too. Murray noticed her mascara made perfect semicircles coming off both eyelids. Aggie looked back to Murray.

“Was that Mrs. K? Who was with her? I heard a rumor that she’s been seeing someone. You know, on the side. Her husband has no idea. Isn’t that horrible? Murray, isn’t that horrible?”

“Yeah, horrible.” Murray watched Aggie’s lips as she went on about more people Murray didn’t know who were cheating on their husbands. He thought of 6:42 – Mrs. K – with her husband, a faceless man with broad shoulders, and then with the salt-and-pepper haired man. He pictured the two of them at the cheap plastic alter in Vegas, exchanging coffee cups instead of wedding rings. Then he thought of Aggie, standing right beside him as she did every day. He thought of her silly face and her black hair.

Murray smiled at Aggie and watched her lips smile back at him.

 

 

    

 

 

Murray had grown his hair long and it hung at his shoulders. Aggie’s hair was pink now, and Murray felt it coarse against his cheek as he whispered in her ear, “Guess who?” She was steaming milk and jumped with surprise. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she giggled. She playfully hit him with her washcloth as he jumped aside to miss the hit. He noticed there was a customer and took the few steps to the cash register. He turned to face her,

“Hello there, how can I help you? Let me guess, a coffee with room for cream?”

6:42 smiled and let out a puff of air as she laughed. “Yes please.”

Murray poured her coffee, slipped a cardboard sleeve over the cup, and pushed it across the counter. She thanked him as she spun around, coffee in hand, and walked towards the milk counter.

“Have a great day,” Murray called to her retreating back, and he turned to tell Aggie a joke he’d just made up.