… how their jeans clung to their backsides with just the perfect amount of snug & how their eyes crinkled at the edges of their smiles & how those smiles flashed whitely against the darker contrast of their weathered skin. I couldn’t differentiate their colours, for they were all so very blended, but it mattered not, some people I feel their colour, some I don’t. But suddenly I realised while gazing @ these men, my mind was heading somewhere it didn’t need to go & before I could stop it, I felt myself blush to the roots of my hair & I ducked down into the steam of my coffee & cream to sip it & hope no one could feel the heat from my booth.
I felt like a stalker & a slutty one @ that.
I looked into my cup for a long, long moment but the window pane beckoned me & again my eyes were drawn again to their manly forms, lined up on those stools in a delicious array of warm YUM. I silently told myself to STOP & made my eyes wander elsewhere in the room.
I found the bartender lounging against the back of the bar, smiling @ the men seated there. He was casual, comfy in his own skin, young & a tad handsome. I figured he was 30+? but no older, not as old as the men seated in front of him, but older than the blonde waitress who smiled into their eyes & giggled @ their comments. The men didn’t or couldn’t see that her eyes were empty, flat for she only pandered for tips, not b/c she liked any of them, not as friends, not even as regular customers; she only saw them as dollars in her pocket & that I felt was sad, to limit oneself so for money is not everything & sometimes friendships are more worth any dollars printed.
The back door opened & another gentleman walked in, he was wearing a red, long sleeved shirt, dark blue jeans & had warm eyes, & silver fox hair. I saw him only in the pane, but I could tell his colour was brown, a soft, lovely brown. The brown of wet tree branches after a heavy dew, the brown of sleeping deer & the brown of honey as it melted, dripping from biscuits hot from the oven.
He sat down facing away from me so I couldn’t see his face, his eyes or anything save his back & yet, yet even his shoulders were strong, broad & his silver hair just brushed his collar.
The waitress silently approached me, plunked down some more cream & re-filled my cup all while I watched her in the glass & she never even tried to make eye contact. FINE. I didn’t care, not really, I was mesmerized by the people in the pane & I watched her walk away, stiff backed & irked I was there.
A few moments later, a woman waked in, everyone looked up, one of the yummy, grubby men said, Hello as did the bartender. The man in red stood up, greeted her, kissed her cheek & helped her sit down across from him. I surmised they were married. His colour, brown, her colour, cream… a good combo. She wore a green dress, w/black lace & shoes to match. Her hair was the colour of sunlight @ dusk & it softly glinted in the low lights of the bar, highlighting her eyes & shawdowing her brow. I watched her face in the glass & I was happy to see that she was happy to see him. They talked & held hands across the table, his thumb brushing her knuckles & her fingers wrapped happily inside his warm, ‘brown’ ones. Their combined colours reminded me of the handful of liquid brown w/cream inside my hands that I sipped from as it steamed & warmed my soul.
I smiled to myself watching everyone there, for everyone seemed to be in good spirits inside the walls of this place. Well, all save the waitress I had, I know not what her problem was but, she didn’t seem to fit; not here, not even inside herself. I wondered what her story was, what made her so off sides but of course I will never know, it is her story, not mine & were I supposed to read it, I would have been in her life somewhere along the way.
Three cups of coffee later, I wasn’t awake yet but alert enough to drive away from here & I realised, I really didn’t want to go; Not yet. So I sat a bit longer, watching the deaf couple in the back, watching the remaining 3 out of 7 men on the barline, watching their hands, their movements, their mannerisms. Watching the couple of white & brown, watching how they held each other with their hands & with their eyes, watching the bartender interact w/his customers, watching the waitress’s not interact w/anyone, not really, not even each other, & moments later, realising that the woman of cream colour & green dress was watching me, watching her in the pane glass & I felt horrified I’d been caught in my voyeuristic ways.
I blinked, nodded my head & mouthed, “I’m so sorry”, in the glass & dropped my eyes back to my cup, my own space, my own place & felt my face flame again. I glanced across my shoulder to see the man in red/brown, had turned to look at me w/accusation in his eyes & all those happy gingerbread crinkles around his eyes were missing when turned my way.
I was mortified, guilty & mortified I’d been caught.
I finished my coffee, left a fiver on the table & left. I know it was too much actually, but guilt made me not wait to be rung up, I just wanted to cloak myself in my shame & GO. I think that was payment enough for the time I’d spent there & I got into my KIA & drove north.
I should’ve just rang one of my friends when I realsised I was lost, but I really bother them enough as it is.
Besides, heading north would @ least get me heading TO Indiana…
and from there I could find my way home.