Writing Contest for Community College Students
— First Place: Short Fiction
No Matter How Brief
by Christina Furnari
(Clackamas Community College)
Rain once fell for forty days and nights before a man named Noah found himself upon dry land. Here, after two weeks, of endless rain the streets remained visible much to her disappointment. With nothing miraculous or otherwise to follow, she simply waited and watched. It was normal that on days like these she could see the perfect color blue in the rolling clouds. Not the drab gray of spring storms that passed as quickly as they came. No, she sought the deep, rich color of the stronger tempests.
She'd come alone every day. Residing in the quiet corner booth of the obscure coffee shop. Her routine never varied, she never ordered differently. If her table was occupied she'd sit near it. Today she sat nursing a cup of tea and watching the stray droplets of water blown against the glass windows. Soothed by the sound of faint traffic and soft music she allowed herself a few hours of reflection before the world inevitably came calling.
The sigh came unbidden, released in a forced exhalation. The harsh sound drawing the attention of a man two tables away. Ignoring him, she turns more fully to the window. Absently her fingers roam the tables' cool surface before resting on the emptied packets of sugar. The brief tangle irritates her and she brushes them away. Unsatisfied and bored she taps out a soft, erratic rhythm. Now the glance from the man is slightly hostile. Leveling a withering look upon him her fingers cease. The noise does not and for a moment she is confused by the muffled sounds.
The source stood three feet from her, behind the rain splattered glass. Hand still raised in mid-tap he grins at her. It takes a moment to register the fact that she has yet to indicate any recognition. He takes the steps in her stillness, already turning away towards the door of the shop. She turns slowly, following him with her eyes. Drawing a deep, panicky breath she prepares herself as best she can to face him.
Somehow even in jeans and a sweater he seemed out of place in the quiet of the shop. Perhaps it was the months spent seeing him in suits and ties that made his appearance so startling. Or perhaps it was just his presence, in a place she had found it easier to forget him, however briefly. Her eyes followed his every movement. He pulled the door open, stepping in under the soft light of the store. For just a moment she could see the light reflecting drops of water that had fallen on his shoulders. Unbidden, her fingers tightened in a phantom wish to brush them away. As if aware of her close scrutiny, he turns and meets her eyes. Color rose to her cheeks, and she cursed silently, realizing she'd been caught staring.
Three years before, they had met. The sign outside of his restaurant said something about a night waitress with odd hours here and there. Learning the job had come easily enough. Nights were filled with a rotating cast of regular customers and weary travelers just stopping in.
Two years before, she had admitted only to herself that there was the possibility of a slight attraction to the man who had become her boss and mentor. No matter how she tried to explain it away it never passed. Another year went by, it hadn't dimmed but she controlled it easily. Just six months before she finally understood it to be a sort of unrequited love and went on with life. Now though, on the verge of departure, the attachment wound itself tightly in her gut, not quite ready to let loose of the man who had inexplicably shown himself.
It takes him forever to get his drink, and it pleases her that he has ordered tea, though she doesn't know why. Amusement aside, she sobers as his quiet steps lead him towards the corner of the shop and to her. She offers a gentle smile, managing to suppress the turmoil gnawing away at her. With a slight nod, she has motioned him to join her and he sits across the table. The tiny separation suddenly becomes too small and she tries to lean away discreetly.
"How are you?" The awkward silence is broken and his voice is soft in the quiet warmth of the store. It takes her a long moment to decide on an answer.
"Better." Now. But she the last she cannot say. Perhaps if she is lucky he will take everything she says at face value and look no further. Her doubt in that inspires a wry smile from her lips. He mistakes it for sarcasm.
"Really?" Again she curses, this time silently. He never did believe her general attempts to pass off small talk.
"Really." Another beat. Strained by silence and heavy thought. "How have you been in the thirteen hours and," she pauses, looking at her watch, "eight minutes that I've been away from work?" Away. From. You. She wont say that either.
"Good. Better." Her attempt at mystery has been repaid with two vague words and a grin. The cryptic air shattered, she turns her head to glare briefly out the window.
"You want to go walk around?" Now she sounds anxious. Skeptically, he eyes her and then the wet world outside. Looking once more at her he finds her gaze and this time she doesn't pull it from his. She is intense in her concentration, as if committing everything to memory.
"Yea. Let's get out of here." He drains the last dregs of tea from his cheap cardboard container and tosses it away. She is beside him as they travel towards the door and the world outside. It occurs to him that she has no coat, and for some reason that strikes him as something only she would do. Pushing through the one of the double doors, he turns to hold it open for her. She is already going through the other, unopened, door.
"So what brings you down to this part of town?" Her interest is superficial, wondering silently if he could possibly know she spends every day in that tiny shop. Waiting and thinking of things never to be. Their steps are slow and spaced evenly. Neither is sure who's pace they are following but happy nonetheless. A cadence, slow and purposeful in the falling rain.
"I've heard that place has good tea."
"And? What did you think?" She hears him chuckle softly, the sound traveling comfortably over her. Looking over to him she finds a grin on his face.
"Honestly, I don't see what you think is so great about it. It tastes terrible." Now she does laugh, and he joins her. It had been a running joke at work that her passion for tea was bordering on addiction.
"Oh it's not that bad." Her tone is slightly scolding but the amusement tinges her eyes. He doesn't look away until she starts walking on. Again their steps resume through the older part of the city. The state of the buildings around them is rapidly descending into more and more disrepair as they walk. Decay in it's most modern form.
"What about you? What are you doing down here?" When she doesn't answer he risks a sideways glance at her. He does not press her, but they walk in silence for lengthening minutes. She sobers quickly, wondering briefly if she hears worry in his voice.
"I'm just trying to get out of my head I guess." He accepts it wordlessly and this surprises her. After a few more paces she makes her confession. "I think I might be leaving town soon."
"What? Why?" The shock in his voice makes her cringe, but it's covered by the shiver the travels through her as a stray drop of water falls down her neck. For the first time she realizes she should have brought a coat. Trying to distract herself, she turns to the man beside her, wondering how best to explain things to him.
"I'm just tired of this town. Of the people here. Of the things that I'm supposed to be. I've been looking for something I may never find here." His arm brushes hers gently, and then again as he takes his stride closer to her. Perhaps to comfort her. Or perhaps to comfort himself. "I guess I've been seeking connection and after so many years of not finding it here, it's time to look somewhere else."
"Connection? What do you mean?"
"I mean either verbally, or mentally, or emotionally, or even, God willing, physically. Even for a moment, even without attachment it's what I'm trying to find." He is quiet and they continue on for two more block before he speaks.
"You mean sex?" She coughs to cover the uncomfortable laugh that fights to emerge. For some reason she feels as if she has treaded where she should not have. Admitted too much without actually admitting anything specific.
"Not in that entirely specific term, but yes I suppose I do." They've reached the end of the sidewalk and the buildings. Now the coffee shop seems an unimaginable distance away and neither is yet willing to make the long journey back. He turns to face her suddenly, planting himself in her path should she choose to retreat from the things she said. "I've just been thinking a lot lately and come to some realizations. Now it's time to move on to other things. And maybe that means other things in other places." She bites her lip now, realizing this is the first time she has acknowledged being fed up with him.
If he is surprised by the admissions it is not a surprised as she is when his lips touch hers hesitantly. As she withdraws he pulls in a harsh breath and squares himself against her.
"Tell me what you're looking for. What it is you want here." His request is weighted and she feels it. He seeks her confirmation, and she seeks his acceptance. His welcoming of something she doesn't believe he can give her.
"You. " Whether it is the silence drawing itself out or the hesitation she sees in him, she continues forward, finally stumbling."It's always been you."
She listens once more to the light rain falling outside. This time it is from the comfort of his embrace and the rented bed that she is hypnotized by it. For a long time there has been silence, both seemingly afraid to move. A spell bound to be broken no matter what they say or do. He lays quietly in the darkness and she has retreated into her own mind. Tentatively she breaks the silence.
"Tell me about your wife, your children?" He speaks for a long time of obligation and the responsibility to be a loving husband and father. His voice, warm hours earlier is tinged now with a sort of resigned bitterness. At the end of his tale, he admits to loving his children fiercely, but that the love he once held for his wife has changed through the years. He will be with her always, but only because he has promised to do so. Strangely enough, he is still a man of honor. More irony she can't help but find bitter.
When he lapses into silence once more she doesn't ask anything else. The knowledge of his willing concessions do little to comfort her, or brush away the cold chill that settled over her. She feels him move away, rolling and finally removing himself from the bed. In the darkness she can see his sillohette turn back.
"I'm going to shower. Come with me?" It is not like him to plead and she does not enjoy reducing him to it. Instead she pushes him gently away and nods, offering a smile she hopes is strong. He relents his hold on her and turns. Rising, he pads silently across the room. After a moment he is engulfed in the yellow fluorescent light of the cramped bathroom. She hears the tempo of the water, the way it changes and she pictures him stepping underneath the spray.
The embrace of the water battles for degree of warmth against the embrace they are in. His arms rest across her, possessively and she relents without protest. It is nice to be needed. Every now and then his touch will wander, tracing patterns across her wet skin. She lets her head rest on his shoulder, turned so that her lips will brush his neck and ear. There has yet to be a loss of control. Nothing frantic, nothing rushed. All the time in the world when everything else doesn't matter for them. Still dripping water he leads her back into the dim room. Wrapped once more within each other they sleep.
She wakes expecting sunlight. Instead as her eyes clear she sees the only light is artificial and it seeps in from behind the curtains. It is still night time. Late evening. For some reason she does not expect him and is not disappointed when she finds him absent. All traces of his presence removed except for a single white sheet of paper sitting on the TV stand across the room. She rises after a moment, stepping gingerly towards it.
'I could never regret what happened here. But there are other things, beside the two of us and we need to attend to them.'
It's simple in it's finality. But she still needs to say good-bye to him. She dresses and finds the room has been taken care of and she owes no debt to the hotel. She is free to leave. Free to leave. More bitter irony.
She enters work a final time with a single white envelope. The evening rush creates a din of noises, all competing to be the loudest. She never noticed how unlike a restaurant this particular restaurant could sound. She offers quiet 'hellos' to the people who would call her friend, but that she would only call acquaintances. She is distracted and does not hear when the new girl asks her what she wants.
She sees him then. Standing next to his wife smiling. And she is content to watch them for long minutes. She may not have the connection, but she can feel it and that is enough. Suddenly he looks up, right at her and she has been caught once more staring. Instead of embarrassment there is only mutual amusement. She offers a true smile, and a nod. She is okay with this.
He moves towards her, but she halts him with gentle shake of her head. He doesn't press. He never did. Instead she turns, noticing the annoyed stares of the new girl at the counter. Placing the sealed envelope on the counter she tells the girl to make sure he gets it when she has left. It has his name and nothing else marked on it.
She steps away from the counter and turns once to look back at him. He is watching her. Then she turns and she is gone.
He makes his way to the counter after a time, and finds the envelope on his own. Retreating away from the noise and from his duties for a few minutes, he shuts the door to his office and settles in his chair. He is almost afraid to open it, fearing that somehow it would be irreverent to read it's precious contents. Curiosity gets the better of him. It always had when it came to her. Perhaps she knew it would. Unfolding the piece of paper he reads three times through. Six words. That's all. And she is gone.
'I love you. Live for her.'
