Let’s say that you stumble into Starbucks, sometime before the weekday morning rush.
You’re a regular, so there’s no need to look up at the chic chalkboard as you rattle-off your order—a hot soy, no whip, extra shot, vanilla latte—until, that is, you’re prompted to choose a size.
You pay with credit, so you need say nothing more, and it’s probably best that you don’t, given the circumstances. You’re not ready for much else but that first sip of latte.
As you wait for your drink, you notice a small group of young professionals gathered in the corner of the store, coffees in hand and books (astutely opened) on the table. They’re an attractive lot, well-dressed and well-groomed, decked out in designer clothes and sporting the latest ‘dos. By the looks of them, they’re probably couples or couples-to-be, but you can’t tell for sure.
You’re well within earshot, so as you stand there fidgeting with your smartphone (i.e., playing Candy Crush), you can’t help but overhear their conversation.
A man’s silvery voice first inclines your ear, “Give me a break. That’s not even an argument!”
Then a woman’s: “Are you sure that priest-friend of yours hasn’t went and—”
And yet another: “Jill, c’mon! Back off! Ted had a rough go, much worse than you or me.”
The conversation stalls for a hot second.
“Even still, what’s with you, man? This is meant to be a book study, not a Bible study. Let’s return to our—”
“I’m sorry, Mike. But this thing . . . it really shook me up. I can’t just sit here and nod my head and pretend like everything’s okay—because it’s not. Honestly, I’m sick and tired of Melanie’s stupid puns and Jill’s . . . crap!”
After a moment’s pause, a shrill voice enters the fray.
“What’s wrong with my puns?”
“Mel, what planet are you living on? Only five minutes ago you were talking about—”
“Ted, chill! You’re not alone here. The virus messed us all up, without exception. Remember that before you start pontificating again, okay?”
“Pontificating? What are you talking about? I’m doing nothing of the sort—”
Somewhere in the distance, you hear your name called. You instinctively turn in the direction from which it came, though you do not move.
“Ted, if you mention the name of God in my presence one more time, we’re through! It amazes me that you would have the nerve, after all that we’ve been through, after all that we’ve suffered in the past few weeks, to go all religious on me. Now is not the time. You’re a hypocrite—that’s what you are. I blame that stupid priest—”
“What priest, Jill?”
“Shortly after his dad succumbed to the virus, Ted drove over to some church and—”
“What church?”
“Uh . . . Immaculate Heart.”
“What? . . . Why?”
“Ted saw on the news that some priests were hanging out in the church parking lot for a couple of hours each day, and I guess he thought that a religious person could help him make sense of the loss. You would think that his fiancée could do the trick, but nooo—”
“Jill, you’re being ridiculous. You should probably just shut-up. Like . . . forever. Ted, my man . . . she’s not serious, is she? I mean, you haven’t totally lost it, have—”
“Sam, I really don’t know. I don’t know why I went to the church that day. And I don’t know why that priest was just sitting there in some make-shift drive-thru, happy to hear-me-out for almost an hour, even though I was nothing more than . . . I mean, I’m not even Catholic.”
“What did the priest say, Ted? Sounds like he did a real number on you—”
“That’s the thing, Sam. He didn’t say much. And he didn’t have to. He just sat there and listened. That’s basically it.”
The table goes silent.
A beanie-wearing barista flags you down. Your coffee’s ready; in fact, it’s been ready for quite some time now.
You walk forward, pick-up your drink, and move toward the door. You have half a mind to stay—but you don’t.
As you walk along the bustling sidewalk, you receive an unexpected phone call. It’s your business partner, Aberdeen.
You breathe heavily and answer her call.
“Good morning, Aberdeen!”
You take that first sip of coffee.
“Yes, of course! I have everything ready.”
You think of Ted and another missed opportunity.
✠
Photo by RR Abrot on Unsplash
