After half an hour of anxious shoving back and forth in the mid day traffic dance, another ten minutes of uneasy search of my fidgety pair of eyes and the drivers uninterested lids, he let me off on the corner of Pomonok, Queens.
I had to resort to the discomfort of yellow cabs since my car keys were confiscated by Jordan last weekend on the crime of my return to alcoholism. The small restaurant was hiding in plain sight at the corner of a long, skinny lane.
The glass window let a packet of orange sunlight in and it exploded into a puddle of light on the feet of a single table she was sitting at. The cafe was somewhat empty except for a droopy eyed waitress and a few tired bodies in the corner who bolted no eye at anything. Amidst of this, she sat in the middle table with an untouched cup of coffee which had become her only company.
I inhaled a heavy sip of air since the period of juvenile behavior was over and it was high time to act my part, according to my knowledge, allowing the best image of myself to take the spotlight.
She flinched at the bell of the door in a manner that provoked the idea that she examined the faces of everyone who entered the establishment to detect if any of them was me.
I occupied the chair in front with a business esque smile and nod, letting my apology be the awkward introduction.
" I'm sorry. I must be late. The traffic was in its terrible state as always. "
" It's fine, Mr. Montgomery. I just got here myself. "
I did not examine to see if that was a rapid lie and her damp body language was making me believe so.
" I'm sorry I acted out that day. You have to pardon me for that. There's a lot...to... "
" I should be the one apologizing. " I interrupted her in my straight face.
" It was not my place to stick my nose in someone's business. It was...very..childish. "
" But I'm glad that you did. " She affirmed and I fell dumb to grasp the subtle context of her intentions.
" You see, I...wanted to talk to Colorado. About...it. But I don't know what to say to him, or how to explain...as I don't know what to say to you now. "
She halted then hanged her head forward to hide it as the hair followed suit. She did not have to confess that she was guilty but the cause of the stigma was concealing itself in the shadows from me. But I understood much to attain that the crime was in seeing a divorce attorney as if it was a felony against her marriage, a betrayal to her husband.
It was not a scandal yet but it was something of a vice since she was being unfaithful in a context as her husband did not know. I read that in her diary when the pages flew by to the most creased once and at that moment I was glad that I did since she mumbled and stuttered, bits of this and that for her conscious which stood like an iron wall.
Everything she wanted to say was on the tip of her tongue and it stayed there before she drowned the lukewarm coffee and decided to talk in a divergence code.
On the duration of next 15 minutes, when her coffee was gone and nothing concrete except for half crafted sentences that ended without a proper meaning were only exchanged as she spoke to me as one speaks to a stranger, in the fear of saying too much of their private thoughts.
I stopped examining her secretly and stopped my audit of her deceptive characteristics as I answered the blank questions with my years of professional, bookish knowledge that poured out of my voice.
She did not ask about the finance, the set of alimony and the undisclosed trouble that everyone who stood on the edge of separation feared intensely but I reported them all the same.
She must have forgotten that I knew a bit of her secret, not all of it but a small embarrassing portion that anyone with half of their brain could figure out or harbor the brief idea of the grave conclusion. She made no eye contact either except for the accidental glances which only happened when she looked upwards from her constant gaze to the dazzle deprived table.
" They were all the same. " I thought to myself as she sat a couple of feet away, in her attire of guilt and self doubt, clasped hands and a warm dislocated look on her eyes.
It was not my first private meeting where he or she vaguely informed me about the destination of their marriage and all of their nonchalant confession added up the same dull result.
The guilt came from a number of doorways. Even though I played the part of settling the score between the couples, I came to know about the causes without curiosity since gossip among the relatives were hard to miss in the whole back and forth dealings of blame.
An affair was always the obvious and most corrosive since after that, forgiveness was hard to come by. A husband could have found his lust pointed to a woman who was not his wife. And the wife could endow a shelter in a man who did not wear her wedding ring.
I was musing what could be in her case and my blank face was in place to hide any of my adverse emotions without realizing that she stared right back at me. Not angrily but an apathetic look with the imprint of tiresomeness flushed on her cheeks as she said in a departing tone.
" I hope you will not tell them about the............this. "
I wanted to say something polite and comforting but the words of that section had rusted from the lack of use as she stood up.
" I really like them and I do not want them to think less of me. "
Then her uncomfortable shoes sang a restless ballad till her image and sound both melted in the background of an early evening.
I sat there for a while with the company of another mug of coffee as my mind debated to form a completion.
YOU ARE READING
Lawyer Levi
Fiction générale" Thirty-- the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning brief case of enthusiasm, thinning hair. " Age of Suits. Age of success. Dawn of a new part in the mid life of 30. Times of luxury and the " Good li...
