I ordered a cup, for here, filled the enormous vessel with half & half and house roast.
Where should I sit?
It was crowded. I knew that my close proximity would make me a little nervous as my intent was to record and comment on other people’s conversation. I spotted an empty table...near the bathroom, close to four other people, two engulfed in conversation.
Sitting down I began to actively pay attention. The current conversation was centered on laundry. The male, probably mid-thirties sitting next to a motorcycle helmet, began talking about a mat on Robinson. His point to the seemingly banal story was to share that it wasn’t so bad, a good experience at the end of it all. He simply loaded his wash, went to the coffeeshop down the street (I know to be Starbucks) and hung out. "I did the crossword, went back to fill the dryer, returned and read the paper."
The course of conversation changed fast. He asked the woman, about the same age with a small child in a carrier next to her, about going back to school. She was considering a departure from her nursing career to pursue religious studies. A change he found of interest, “but you are such a caring nurturing person, nursing seems perfect for you.”
“Nursing is about working you to death, about kicking your ass. It isn’t about helping people.” She explained her desire for something part-time. Maybe a volunteer with the MCV clinic. She liked it there, “people don’t feel entitled.”
I became increasingly aware of my watching them. I stopped typing and opted to record in my notebook. In doing so the man leaned over to comment on the extreme size of my coffee cup.
“That is a huge cup of coffee! We could all take a dip in there!”
She laughed, giving him the "leave her alone look.”
“What? It draws your attention?”
“I don’t think it’s the coffee that draws your attention over there.”
I should add this was all in good nature. They joked with each other, talked about busting each other’s balls and who started it. I was forgotten about when “Jim” was brought up.
“How’s Jim?”
“He’s got drama. You can’t repeat this to anyone.”
(Okay now I am feeling like a little shit telling the story, I am changing his real name to Jim, someone I used to know.)
She launches in. Both leaned over the table, enthralled, yet their voices are not hushed. It is clear this is not a conversation they care about anyone they don’t know hearing.
“So he gets a text from this woman on New Year’s Eve. It says “I’m so glad you are in my life.” He thinks its strange as he doesn’t really even know who it is. Some woman he dated awhile ago. He doesn’t respond. Melanie, who apparently knows this woman, texts him the next day regarding the strange text. Oh yeah, you didn’t know? She’s pregnant!”
“What?”
“I know.” She nodds. “He finds out he’s going to be a dad through a text message. (there is a pregnant pause) But wait, it gets better. Apparently she has an old boyfriend that she has placed a restraining order on. It is either his or Jim’s baby. They won’t know the test results until May! Melanie said that if the baby is her ex’s, she doesn’t want him to be involved in any way. But if it is Jim’s she wants some of that doctor money. Oh yeah, and get this…she works at Wendy’s!”
“This is insane! He’s a doctor, he should know about birth control.”
“I know. He claims that the condom broke. Which means he didn’t use one. She’s 32, its not like she’s young and dumb. If she were 22, he could probably give her $20,000 and be done with it. She also has a 12 year old, whose father is in jail!”
“What? How does he know this girl?”
“He claims he doesn’t that well. That it was more of a one night stand kinda thing. But I guess he knew her well enough to tell her where he works. I told him if he didn’t want the baby and she was completely out of the picture that Matt and I would adopt.”
“WHAT?!?! Are you crazy! What did Matt say about that?”
She got up to use the restroom, causing them to yell out over me. “He thinks I’m crazy.”
A woman and small child emerge from the bathroom.
“Oh, I have one of those at home” she jokes with the frazzled young mom.
In her absence the man moves across the table to watch her infant while she’s using the facilities. I react by flipping back to an old page in my notebook. Hmm, open source design and its role in co-creation.
“Your mama is crazy” he coos.
She returns to the table. “Wanna see my new car? I can take you for a ride in it.”
“Sure, I brought my motorcycle.”
He leans over and peers at my notebook, contents exposed like an underwear drawer, looks me in the eyes, giggles and shrugs.
