by Copper Rose
iced tea
The rain battered
her shoulders, her head covered by yesterday’s newspaper as she slipped through
the door of Giovinci Consuelo’s Bistro. Patty scanned the conveyor belt of her
mind to pin down the perfect excuse for being twenty minutes late. Being late.
Something she wasn’t proud of. Her mother used to tell the ladies at coffee
klatch, “Patty will be late for her own funeral,” and they would laugh, knowing
it was true.
Gaze flitting
left then right, Patty searched for a glimpse of Amy in the sparsely populated
dining area. An excuse had yet to expose itself. She started to sweat. She
jumped when she felt the hostess’s hand on her forearm, jolting her back to the
moment. “Table for one?”
Patty scrunched
up the side of her face, shook her head, and then flicked up two fingers. She
even laughed out loud at how it reminded her of the peace sign, which was what
this luncheon was all about. She’d bumped into Amy outside the nursing home as
Amy was coming out from visiting her father. Patty was on her way in to visit
her mother. The chance meeting had caught them both off guard and in a hurry.
After realizing how long it had been since they’d talked to each other, they’d
pressed their cheeks together in an awkward hug. Amy had said without
hesitation, “Let’s do lunch.”
It wasn’t an
in-the-mail-box invitation but Patty found herself saying, “I’d love that. The
Bistro?”
“Sure. This
Saturday? 2:00 so we miss the 12:00 crowd?”
“See you then.”
Patty didn’t have a hammer and didn’t nail it down; the invitation. Instead
Patty had nodded as she ran off to convince her mother aliens had not stolen any
money out of her wallet. Amy ran off to who knows where. Probably having an
affair with her dentist. Or better yet, the Deliveries R Us guy. Come to think
of it, he was awfully cute. Patty took out her little black book and made a
quick entry.
The hostess led
Patty to an empty booth, where it turned out, an excuse was not necessary. The
view overlooked the street. Neon kaleidoscopes formed on the sidewalk, the
pavement, the clothing store window across the way, blinking—blinking sighs of
relief. It wasn’t often Patty was first at anything. She smiled, something she
hadn’t done in a long time.
The server waved
a hand in her direction as she held up an iced tea. Patty grinned, nodded and
was soon sipping the cold drink as she flipped through the old yearbook,
smoothing her finger over each senior picture.
The server came
with a second glass of iced tea. A small drop, condensation on her glass,
dripped onto the page. She grimaced at the wrinkles it created on the picture
of Amy’s face. She swiped it away with the side of her little finger causing a
tear in Amy’s forehead.
“Oops.”
Patty tried to
smooth it out but the rip became bigger, now showing red through the tear, from
the band instructor’s shirt on the adjoining page. Patty’s finger pressed down
too hard and Amy’s head separated from her neck.
It had been
forty-five minutes, with no sign of Amy, that Patty sat in Giovani Consuelo’s
Bistro sipping iced tea. Just sitting there and sitting there sipping iced tea.
Patty kept glancing at her cell phone thinking she’d missed Amy’s call detailing
why she was running late. Thoughts appeared on the conveyor belt, thoughts about
respect and responsibility. Thoughts about entitlement. How some people got to
be cheerleaders and other people didn’t…
“Can I get you
another glass of iced tea?” Patty jumped when the server touched her shoulder,
breaking into her reverie.
“No, thank you. I
thought I was supposed to meet someone, but I must have gotten my dates mixed
up.” She pulled a five dollar bill from her wallet and slapped it on the table.
She slammed shut the cover of the year book, and scooped up the book hidden
underneath.
The server caught
a glimpse of the familiar book tucked under Patty’s arm. “How to Cast a Spell –
Just In Case.”
No one heard the
squeal of tires on the other side of town as two cars collided. Head on. Well
sort of, head off, but no matter.
***
“How about we do
lunch?” Jan said to Patty when they bumped into each other at the post
office.
About the author
Copper Rose perforates the edges of the page while writing unusual stories from
the heart of Wisconsin. She also understands there really is something about
pie.
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