Hard-Boiled Men

“Yesterday, some guy came in here and told me that he loved me”
“He did what?”
“Yea, I am totally serious. At first, I just thought that he was joking. But he wasn’t. Even after I told him to get lost, he stuck around. He must have lingered around that table for at least another hour if not longer.” She pointed towards the corner.
“That’s kind of creepy.”
“But that is not the half of it. Just as he was about to leave, he once again turned my way and told me that he was a friend of Jason’s.”
“Your Jason? The Jason?”
“The one and only?”
“Ok, this is really strange. How does he know him? Did he say?”
“He did not say much. He just stood there smiling. As he was walking out, he gave me his business card and said that he would be back later on today. What time do you have?”
“It is almost 8pm. This guy better hurry up and get here before Louis closes down.”
The two of them sat around the bar area and waited. Smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee always helped time go by that much quicker. Richmond Virginia was the last place that smokers were considered human beings. Maybe it had something to do with that giant conglomerate that was situated downtown.
Sam thought about Jason. Four years have gone by since they last met. There was not a day that went by when she did not think about him, about them, about the way he used to make her feel alive. Some things in life could not be repaired by time. A broken heart was one of them.
A few more customers walked into the joint while others left. Every doorbell ring made her lift her eyes up in anticipation. A large plate of French fries and a grilled cheese sandwich did not make her feel any better. When 10 pm came around, she greeted Louis goodbye and asked Remy if she would not mind sticking around for just a while.
The two of them, like a tall pine standing beneath the horizon made little sense in the settings of the old neighborhood. So many years have gone by and nothing has changed for either one of them.
They both still worked at that same restaurant where they first became waitresses more than a decade ago. They hung out with those same people who held the same conversations, watched the same television shows and smoked the same menthol smokes that chiseled away at the larynxes of everyone around their side of the street.
Remy did not mind the daily routine. Some people just preferred to live their lives in that fashion. But Mel wanted more, much more.
Jason was the one who opened her eyes. He was the one told her about the word outside of Hull Street. He told her about far away nations, about Laos, Azerbaijan and Bolivia. He told her about those strange kinds of food that people ate, cobra snake stews, lizard pies and hog fat soup. He has traveled the world and has seen it all. His two years down in Highland Springs was always meant to be temporary. Guys like Jason never put down their roots in suburban America. He always viewed corporate malls and gated communities as agents of spiritual devastation.
It was getting late now, nearly 10:45pm. Remy said that it was time to go.
Mel dipped her extended fingernails deep into her warm suede pocket. On the expensive business card, his name was spelled Jeremy A. Klein, Attorney at Law. She did not recognize his name nor could she remember Jason ever mentioning this guy’s name.
Jeremy A. Klein did not show up that night nor did he show up any other time in subsequent days.
Two weeks later, she broke down and called him up. The fine print beneath his name identified his place of employment as the Weinstein and Gad Law Firm (In Manhattan’s financial district is what she gathered). The vigorous secretary transferred her call after a few moments.
“Hello”
“Yes, this is Jeremy Klein, how can I help you?”
“Hello. Yes, hi, this is Mel from the restaurant. You know, you gave me your card.”
“Is that what you best remember me by Mel? Or was there something else?”
“Well,” she laughed “You did tell me that you loved me”
“And?”
“And that you will come back.”
“Yes, I did, I did say that and I meant every word of it too.”
“Which did you mean, the part about coming back or the part about you loving me?”
“I meant both”
“Well, it does not appear like you meant either. You never showed up.”
“So you were waiting?”
“Well, yes, I guess I was, but only out of curiosity.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, did anyone ever tell you that one?”
“Hey Jeremy, you have to admit that this is all so strange. Do you always just show up at places and tell strange women that you love them? That you know their ex-boyfriends? Is that what you always do?”
“Actually, it is not.”
“So what gives?” she demanded to know.
“I will tell you, but not over the phone.”
Six months went by and Mel moved her things into his apartment. When faced with boredom, with a lack of hope and with the feeling that there is no way out, any woman can fall in love with any guy as long as he pays her the right kind of attention. Strange was the nature of human beings.
One the other side of the continent, Jason was working around his garden when the phone rang. The rain around Seattle seemed to be like the wind that came in for a visit every day or so. Sometimes it just said hello, other times it stayed around for coffee. The mention of her name made him pause. He did not hear the name Mel in several years.
Despite numerous girlfriends, he never really did stop loving her even after all of those years and all of the pain involved.
So just imagine how he reacted when he found out that some random guy that he once met on an airplane ride asked his former love to marry him. He almost went insane.
Weeks and weeks of heavy drinking could not take away the pain and compunction.
If he only closed his eyes and went to sleep like he always did on long flights. If he had only watched that movie that they were showing for the twentieth time . If he had only not had the urge to tell everyone that he ever met about that one woman that he left behind, to show them the many pictures of Mel with her gorgeous eyes and perfect figure. If he had only kept the long conversation to small talk like most people did instead of telling that shady lawyer about the small town where he met her and that great restaurant where she worked.
If only life was that much different, he would not have to face the fact that Mel will soon be known as Mrs. Melissa A. Klein. To face the fact that a random stranger had the guts to take Mel to that place where he was always afraid to go.

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Hard-Boiled Men

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Eating cake for breakfast, she thought, made as much sense as eating cake for lunch or for dinner. It made no sense what so ever. And yet, more people ordered a lemon glazed pound cake or a cranberry muffin along with their morning coffee than did with their afternoon espresso.

Ann was always a sucker for life’s simple pleasures. No pleasure was more of a guilty one than the double fudge espresso brownie that they sold at Starbucks. And this is where it all became ironic. As she placed her order for the brownie along with a tall vanilla late with skim milk she was scorned by the eyes of two overweight women. They were appearantly shocked by the idea of any woman who dared to order anything chocolaty for breakfast.

The main problem with today’s society, Ann thought, was the lack of education and pluralistic ignorance. People were so quick to make assumptions regardless of concrete facts. Take these two women for example, she thought. One of them was holding on to a frozen syrupy coffee drink headed by piles of faty whipped cream. The other was munching on a blueberry muffin that was coated with so much sugar that her teeth could have fallen out of her mouth on the spot.

If they could only all sit down around a table to compare a case by case calorie count.

Ann thought about it but decided to let it all go. It was always easier for people to judge others than it was for them to judge themselves. And besides, she had more important things on her mind.

But what was the deal with these women, Ann wondered. Why were they always so unkind towards one another? Ever since she was a middle school girl back in West Virginia, they always found a way to make her feel self- conscious. It was not always what they said but typically the way in which they said it. Madison Harris was the worst of all with that striking blond hair and ruthless teenage tounge of hers. So many years have pasted and Ann could still feel the fesh scars that were associated with Madison’s memory.

What was it about these women? She wondered. Why could they not all unit behind a common cause, behind the ideal of global sisterhood? Instead they chose to tear each other at the flesh.

To Ann, women were even worst than were men. Those guys only wanted to have their way with you only to later lose your number. Ann has been there more than once. But still, the worst that a man could do was to break your heart. But these women, they tore other women down slowly and maliciously just like the waters tear down the edges of an ocean side cliff.

Ann walked out of the coffee shop and headed towards her SUV. When she bought this thing three years ago gas was only $2.14 per gallon, now it was all the way up to $3.21.
Where once enthralled by its power and size, Ann was sick and tired of her giant green machine. Well at least the lease would be up in a few months.

She got in the car and started to drive. She was not sure of where she was heading and how long it would take to get there. The music was load and the wind in her hair. She picked out the forbidden brownie from its thin paper envelope and placed it in her mouth.

The chocolate’s vast flavor erupted through the walls of her mouth with all of its chemical glory. The sun was out and her song was playing. It was Thursday morning in Louisiana and for the first time in weeks, she felt comparatively contented.

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The problem with Brazilian girls, he said, is that they smile at everyone with that special smile that many men want to reserve for themselves. He went out for a pack of smokes and later came back. He quit smoking cigarettes more than six months ago but on occasion, he broke his own promise. Nothing made him feel more manly than a pack of Reds in his pocket. You know, in Europe, he said, women will think less of you if you are one of those non-smoking guys. The American equivalency, he argued, would be a guy who doesn’t drink whiskey or only drinks light beers because of the carbs.

I waited for him to return and in the meantime brewed another round of coffee. We were all addicted to different things. His teeth were yellow from the cigarettes, mine from too much caffeine. Everyone one had their own thing going.

When he came back, he did not say to much. At least, that was the case for the first few minutes. He tapped the bottom of the pack on his left palm. Smokers had strange tendencies. As if the cigarettes were asleep and needed a good kick in the ass before they could be smoked. He asked me for a light and as usual I could not find one. So many people came and went from my apartment and by some strange miracle this traffic resulted in a constant fluctuation in the numbers of available lighters.

Some guy whom I did not know left a silver lighter on my bathroom sink a few weeks ago. I had it in my pocket for a couple of days but it later disappeared after everyone came over for the semi finals. I should have never had bought that large screen TV.

I found some old matches in the kitchen drawer. They had a name of some Boston restaurant on their cover. He lit up his cigarette and later another. We were all addicted to our own devices.

Do you remember that girl I told you about, the one from the coffee shop? He inquired. Before I could answer he hit me up for a coffee with two sugars. I never put any of those sweeteners in my coffee, some regular milk did just fine with me.

It appeared that the girl from the coffee shop was now single again. She broke up with that guitar player after all of these months. Sam took a small note from his back pocket and proudly displayed his telephone number scribbled in red.

Coffee, cigarettes, sugar and dating, we are all addicted to different things.

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Jimmy let that piece of paper lay around his desk for a couple of weeks. Surrounded by overdue bills from the local utility company, the television and cable company and numerous credit card, this small indifferent white envelope had nothing that distinguished it from the rest, besides her familiar handwriting.

Jimmy woke up kind of early on that Sunday morning. Some people who walked by his building were making load noises. It almost sounded like a fight and Jimmy when never one to miss out on such things. By the time he got out of bed and threw on a pair of his red holiday boxers that she gave him as a gift, the people on the street were gone. Disappointed, he walked out into his kitchen and was surprised to learn that it was 5:10am. An hour later the sun would come up on another morning in Arizona.

He brewed up some of that expensive flavored coffee that she made him buy online and then turned on Sportcenter in the other room. He did not want to wake her up. Things were going well between them, or at least that was the way he felt about her. Three and a half months was not enough time to tell where it would wall lead.

On his way out to the balcony where he planned to smoke a cigarette, he picked up the envelope from the pile and carefully opened it without a tear. It took Jimmy half a cigarette to withdraw the letter form the envelope. Good news or bad news, any news from Maria could only spell trouble for him, now that he moved on.

Later on, in the bar, when they held hands, he told her about what she said. Lizzie tried to be the good girlfriend, the kind that was understanding and not too jealous. But he could see it on her face. Later on that not when they made love he closed his eyes and held her close, as if he had not seen her in a while.

Holding on to two women in the arms of the one, he thought about it all and wondered how much time will pass until he will forget about Maria and move on with his life.

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Jimmy let that piece of paper lay around his desk for a couple of weeks. Surrounded by overdue bills from the local utility company, the television and cable company and numerous credit card, this small indifferent white envelope had nothing that distinguished it from the rest, besides her familiar handwriting.

Jimmy woke up kind of early on that Sunday morning. Some people who walked by his building were making load noises. It almost sounded like a fight and Jimmy when never one to miss out on such things. By the time he got out of bed and threw on a pair of his red holiday boxers that she gave him as a gift, the people on the street were gone. Disappointed, he walked out into his kitchen and was surprised to learn that it was 5:10am. An hour later the sun would come up on another morning in Arizona.

He brewed up some of that expensive flavored coffee that she made him buy online and then turned on Sportcenter in the other room. He did not want to wake her up. Things were going well between them, or at least that was the way he felt about her. Three and a half months was not enough time to tell where it would wall lead.

On his way out to the balcony where he planned to smoke a cigarette, he picked up the envelope from the pile and carefully opened it without a tear. It took Jimmy half a cigarette to withdraw the letter form the envelope. Good news or bad news, any news from Maria could only spell trouble for him, now that he moved on.

Later on, in the bar, when they held hands, he told her about what she said. Lizzie tried to be the good girlfriend, the kind that was understanding and not too jealous. But he could see it on her face. Later on that not when they made love he closed his eyes and held her close, as if he had not seen her in a while.

Holding on to two women in the arms of the one, he thought about it all and wondered how much time will pass until he will forget about Maria and move on with his life.

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