Sand (part 2)

***

“What do you mean I don’t care?” protested Christine “I said I liked the mocha”.

“I mean you’re always somewhere else, you’re never in the room and your whole, ‘I’m detached’ thing drives me crazy!” Herbert cried. He brought his hands to his face and wiped tears away.

“What are you talking about Herb? I’m right here, right now. I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I said I liked the breakfast in bed, and your mocha was good.”

“Open your goddamn ears, Christine!”, At this comment she walked out of the kitchen and went to sit down in the living room alone. Herbert followed.

“What happens inside your head? Why don’t you ever tell me what you really think?” he sat down on the couch beside her.

“Stop crying” she ordered him and looked away.

***

Herbert, thought of that time as he walked to the counter and ordered. Slowly and deliberately, He turned around, leaned on the counter, and faced Christine, who was staring at him through the window again. Another smile met each other’s lips.

“Four seventy three” said the cashier disinterestedly. He paid the young woman and carried the coffees over to the table. Christine looked directly into Herbert’s eyes.

“It doesn’t feel like that long ago Herb” she grinned at him.

“No, it does” Herbert answered back.

“You see what I mean?”

another long pause followed “no”.

Herbert brought the coffee to his lips, took a sip and winced in pain at the heat.

“I still can’t tell when you’re joking or not” sighed Christine. She looked inquisitively into his eyes.

“I’m serious” he responded smiling. She knew that he was annoyed.

“So you have a new job I hear?”

“Yeah it’s a small gig writing for this magazine. The editors think that they’re publishing a New York Times, you know. Whatever, they pay.”

“I like it when your angry Herb it reminds me of the good old days”

“Just stop it”

“What?”

“The musical chairs game, the ash tray. Same as it ever was right?”

“It is, isn’t it?”, she smiled “Look Herb, I don’t want to fight. I really wanted to see you today.”

Herbert grunted. Silence again as Christine lit a third cigarette.

“What do you write about in the magazine?”

“Condescending cd and concert reviews. It seems that that’s all what magazines want these days, witty, obnoxious writers. I hate it.”

“I can tell”

“Yeah?”

Herbert reached across the table and grabbed a cigarette and put it in his mouth. Without missing a beat, Christine lit it.

“Don’t say anything” Herbert grumbled.

“Wasn’t planning on it” she responded, exhaling.

Both started laughing out loud. He took a drag from the newly lit smoke and put it out right away. He didn’t cough.

“It’s much worse than I thought”
“Smoking?”, she asked.

“yes”

“I know. Plus they’re menthol.”

By now, Herbert had finished his coffee and started fidgeting with the wooden stirring stick.

“Hey Herb, I gotta go”

“What, why? I just stopped being mad at you, I was enjoying myself there.”

“Yeah... I’m sorry Herb, I have a lot of stuff to do.” She rose from the table and checked her cell phone.

“Like what? it’s friday afternoon.”

“Like, stuff.”

“Just sit down”

she stared at him in response

“Do you remember that day we went to the beach together?” he asked her.

“Yes” Christine sat down “what about it?”

“We took our shoes off remember, so we could run?”

“Sure”

“I bet you anything we still both have sand left in our shoes”

They let their eyes lock and Christine smiled.