Patron Saint of Lost Causes

with his hand on the small of her back

Cath, she stands with a well-intentioned man
But she can't relax with his hand on the small of her back
And as the flashbulbs burst
She holds a smile like someone would hold a crying child

Cath, it seems that you live in someone else's dream
In a hand-me-down wedding dress
Where the things that could have been are repressed
But you said your vows, and you closed the door
On so many men who would have loved you more

And soon everybody will ask what became of you
'Cause your heart was dying fast, and you didn't know what to do

--"Cath..." by Death Cab for Cutie

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17th

"I fucked up," James groaned into his folded arms.

Dave kept tapping away at his laptop. "Yeah, you sure did, buddy," he said sympathetically.

James lifted his head, still leaning heavily on the counter. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he watched Alexandra Miller, love of his life, accept a date right in front of him. "I was going to ask her out," he said morosely. "Literally half an hour before he did."

"And you choked," Dave said. He leaned around his laptop to check his handwritten notes, then returned to typing. "You chickened out."

James groaned loudly into his hands. "I did," he said. "Just like I've chickened out every other goddamn time the past four years."

"Mm-hm," Dave said absently.

The bell above the door chimed and James straightened up as the customers walked in. "Hi, welcome," he said, trying to plaster a smile on his face. He went through the motions of explaining what was in the case, packaging up their selections, and ringing them up. Thankfully they left, and he immediately went back to slouching at the register. "Dave, is it possible to die from this?"

"You're the pre-med hospital boy, you tell me," Dave said. He paused. "Oh, but that could be a good inspiration for my next short story."

"You can only use it if you let me read it."

"Never mind," Dave sighed.

The door to the back banged open and Jeff walked in, jangling the keys to the delivery van on his fingers. "What's up, my guy?" he said, tossing the keys to James. They hit him in the forehead and clattered to the counter as he winced. "Jesus, Mini. No wonder you quit baseball. Your hand-eye coordination's gone to shit."

"Oh, no, that's just the heartbreak," Dave said.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Oh, shit," he said. "Did Alex turn you down?"

"Worse," Dave said.

Jeff's eyebrow raised higher, waiting expectantly for an explanation. "Another guy asked Alex out, and she said yes," James said. Jeff whistled in sympathy.

"Oh, wait, it gets better," Dave said.

James sighed. "He asked her out in front of me," he said.

"Holy shit, Mini," Jeff said. "That fucking sucks." He shook his head. "We've been telling you for years to just ask her out."

"I know!" James said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I just...I didn't...it never seemed like the right time!"

Jeff grabbed his apron off the hook on the wall. "Kiddo, there's never a perfect time for these kinds of things," he said. "You gotta shit or get off the pot. And in your case...well, I guess somebody just pushed you off."

"That's a terrible simile," Dave said. He paused. "Metaphor?"

"I don't know, I don't read books," Jeff shrugged.