IMPETUS

Aftertaste

When they got there, Mikey wasn't sure there'd be any place to sit inside the crowded cafeteria, but those crutches came in handy, attracting more than just token sympathy, parting loiterers like Moses at the Red Sea.

He took a sip of coffee and savored the bitter aftertaste. Reminding her, "You know I still haven't gotten your name yet," while watching her supple lips blowing steam off her camomile.

"It's Tara." She revealed, eyes still trending downward.

Careful not to push too far too fast, he left her to a few more sips before inquiring: "How's your grandmother?"

For a split second, he thought she was going to spit out her tea. He could see her eyes searching.

"She's been going downhill for awhile now," she recuperated. "Then last week she took a turn a turn for the worse." He could tell the subject was uncomfortable for her. "I try to get in a visit whenever I'm in the neighbourhood."

"Does that mean you don't live close by?"

She adjusted herself accordingly. "It depends. I'm a caregiver, so I go where the work takes me." She took another sip, then looked up at him. "How bout you, Mikey? You like to do anything else besides drive fast and crash into things?"

He gladly took her cue off the subject. "Not so much lately." He too sipped his drink leisurely. "Truth be told, my life's been more or less confined to the slow lane."

"Sorry to hear that," she said, not sounding all that sorry. "But you never know when the speed will pick up." Her lips parted ever so slightly. Dear God, did she radiate sex appeal. "Anyway, something tells me slow might do you some good for awhile." As though feeding off his pent-up frustration, she shifted in her chair and cleared her throat. "How much longer until you're a free man?"

Mikey wiped the beads from his forehead. "Any day now," he hoped.

Her phone rang.

It caught Mikey off guard. Her too, apparently, as she suddenly became nervous, rummaging through her expensive-looking Gucci handbag. "Just one sec." She angled away to check the caller ID, a strange face coming over her.

"Someone special?" He asked, trying to read her expression.

She transferred the phone to her pocket: "Not in this lifetime," muffled under her breath, that face of hers making soft, subtle changes, all amounting to the same preoccupation. "I think I'd better be going."

She stood up abruptly.

"What, because of one phone call? Guy must be a real jerkoff."

"No, it isn't that, really..." Her raincoat already halfway on. "Listen, thanks a lot for the..."

"Any time," he said. And he meant it. Mikey struggled to get to his feet. "Seriously, how bout tomorrow?"

"Beg your pardon?"

He knew he was coming on strong. "You are coming back, aren't you? For your grandmother." He was hoping she'd make this a bit easier on him, but he could plainly see that a switch had been flipped in her busy little brain.

"Um, yeah. I suppose. Probably."  

"So it's a date." Mikey cringed at his own eagerness. But he just couldn't hold back. These last fifteen minutes nearly made up for fifteen weeks. "And we'll turn our devices to airplane mode, okay?"

That got him a smile, but she was still squirming, and it hurt him to see. Mikey so hated to lose that sweet feeling.

Mikey hated to lose, period.

"Listen," He revved down, catching up with himself. "I'll be around tomorrow if you..." coming to an idling stop, to gauge her reaction. "Or if not, hey, that's ok too. No worries. Either way." Her eyes offered a minuscule opening. "My physio goes to two-thirty, but if I'm not down here promptly, don't think I forgot about you or anything. Sometimes it just takes me a little while." She was softening, but seemed no less determined.

"Maybe I'll see you then," she relented, probably to shut him down gently.

And set off.

Mikey watched her go from his still-standing position, acutely aware of the anxious group now circling the table, waiting for him to vacate so they could swoop in and stake a claim on his territory.