Coffee with Wilde

Chapter 8

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple" - Oscar Wilde

Athena took a seat opposite Lena, the following Thursday. Her seat had been rudely taken, by none other than, Kwan, with his hand over Klade's fist.

"Klay, I think you're really sweet, but you and I are on two completely different paths in life. I haven't come out to my parents yet, I need someone who has a level-headed, and I need to sort out my life priorities. You know what you want in life, you will find someone...someone who is so much better for you. In the long run we wouldn't work out, and I want you to be happy," Kwan said.

Athena leapt to her feet, her fists clenched, on the table as she stood poised, ready to strike. Lena latched onto her wrist, as she took a step forward. With a sharp yank, she pulled Athena back onto the seat.

"Just let him deal with it, babe," Lena whispered, soothingly.

"But..."

"You can't protect him from heartbreak," Lena said.

"I'm really sorry," Kwan said, reaching out and caressing Klade's cheek with a sad smile. He adjusted his apron, heading back to the kitchen with his head hanging.

Lena released her grip on Athena's wrist and the two girls ran over to him. Athena sat next to him, pulling his head down and running her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

"I'm alright, it's all okay," he said, with a sniff. "It's better that I know now."

"Did you tell him?" Athena asked.

"No, someone showed him my poem. I think it was pretty obvious I was talking about him."

"We've all been there," Lena said, patting his head.

His sobs became more vitriolic, as time passed. He wrapped his arms around Athena's waist and pulled her to him tightly. Lena threw serviettes, out of the dispenser, at him so he could wipe his face.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Athena asked.

"No, no, I have to keep coming here, it's my artistic thing, and I love it here. I can't just stop because the cute waiter broke my heart. I'll be alright in a second," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I can set you up with Ty Bates if you want?" Athena said, rocking him back and forward slightly.

"Yes, please," he whispered.

Lena's chair squeaked, as she threw it out and strode to the counter. Klade and Athena looked up in unison. Lena began to speak to Kwan, in hushed tones, smiling. Her calm demeanor should not have fooled anyone, as she leant closer and whacked him upside the head, before returning to her seat.

"Thank you," Klade said, with a small smile.

"I wish someone had done that to all my exes," Lena said, smiling back.

"I just feel like I need to rip something apart," he said.

Lena reached over to her table, grabbing her recently printed manuscript. Taking a pencil out of her maroon pencil case, which matched her hair, she handed it to him. "It's better than breaking things, which just makes things worse. Now you can rip everything to pieces and it'll help me too," Lena explained.

Klade took up the pencil, placing it against his lips, he started to read. Wiping away a few stray tears he made notes in the margin. Yet the odd drop fell onto the paper, leaving its mark.

After an hour of ruthless editing later, so ruthless to the point where Klade was not the only person crying, he handed the script back. He sat back, and rubbed his face.

"Now Athena, we need to help you," Klade said, still slightly choked up but without the tears.

"Help me with what?" she asked. She crossed her legs and played with her fingers, a hundred possible scenarios running through her head of what he could possibly want to help her with, and the ways it could go wrong..

"You need to stop pining after this poetry boy," Klade said. "Stephen right? You need to tell him you like him."

"I'm not doing that Klade. I'm a different person at school than I am here. I'm not as creative or nice..."

"You could write him a note!" Lena cried, jumping out of her seat, completely ignoring her statement.

"Stick it in his binder or bag," Klade said, jumping up with Lena. "Alright what's it going to say? Who are we quoting?"

"Jane Austen?" Lena asked.

"No, too overused. Something poetic, maybe a Romantic poet," Klade said, clicking his fingers trying to come up with something.

"Emily Dickinson, morning without you is a dwindled dawn?" Athena whispered.

"I knew you'd get on board with this." Klade said, ripping a post-it note out of his folder, and wrote down the quote. He peeled it off the pile and stuck it on Athena's forehead. Laughing at himself, he continued to look up and write romantic quotes down. After he finished he stuck them on Athena's head when she wasn't looking.

"Stop it Klade, I'm writing," she hissed, slapping his hand away, as he stuck an Arthur Conan Doyle quote on her right ear.

"What? What is so important that I can't annoy you now?" Klade asked.

"I'm writing an angsty poem," she said.

"I've got plenty of those, take one," he said, placing his notebook out and putting it on her lap. "Take it, I don't want it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, just don't destroy it. Mail it back to me in ten years to show me what a wanker I was. That notebook is Songs of Innocence, I can now write Songs of Experience," he said.

"Are you two going to be alright?" Lena asked. "I have to go, I was supposed to pick up some canoli for, my boy."

"Where is he?" Athena said, looking around for the editor.

"He tripped over his Miniature Schnauzer, coming out of his pool. He has a Great Dane to trip over and he chooses the smallest dog he can find, to break his ankle on," Lena said, picking up her satchel and slinging it over her shoulder. She adjusted her beret and went back to the counter to deal with Kwan again.

"Hey Lena, thanks," Klade yelled out after her.

Two minutes she came back, holding a white paper bag. "Buck up champ, things'll get better," she said, patting Klade's shoulder.