"That Don't Look So Bad To Me…"-Sister Hazel

"Valliant Warriors don't like to be called cute."

"Well I think they're cute when sometimes they kiss the girl."

Score one for the little girl. She and mom are sitting at the table next to me. I've just offered them my other chair; dad is retrieving coffee. I think they just came from Narnia. Although maybe this is a subplot thing from What Happens in Vegas. Hee-hee, subplot. I think they'd have settled for a plot period...

"Well this valliant warrior was a mouse. The only girls he could kiss are human girls. I don't think they'd like that."

Mom's got a point. Narnia is a bit behind, they're not up on interracial romance. Narnia still doesn't listen to Elvis either. They're a little behind. Still, it's an interesting image to pass along to an 8 year old girl.

I sip my coffee and move my pen around the paper like I'm writing. I'm not. I'm researching. I'm listening.

"Well I thought he was cute."

"Not in that way, I hope."

"What way?

Yeah, Mom, what way? How are you going to explain what you don't want your daughter doing with valiant warrior types of mice or men variety? I don't know why I'm enthralled. I don't have kids. They're minds fascinate me though. Their ability to free associate is incredible.

"The kiss way."

"Amber kisses her mouse."

"Amber's going to kiss a few toads too."

"Eww. No."

Nice one Mom. The reference is just outside, and instilling that mice are the gateway critters is a sinister touch. Narnia remains safe for children. Dad appears with coffee and juice. Today is special. Today is the little girl's birthday. They toast.

"To a happy birthday!"

"Cheers!"

I like these little family vignettes. Maybe that's why I come back to the same bookstore/coffee shop every Friday night. Well the cute barista doesn't make the decision difficult. I walk in, go up to the counter and she says, "Your usual, Rob?" My usual? She remembers me well enough to know my usual.

Oh, the Rob thing? That's tattooed on my arm. You can't miss it, it's right below the heart dangling from my sleeve. Oh, the heart? Lord now, That's not mine, I keep mine buried underneath mountains of flesh. The one on my sleeve is there for show. I took it from a valiant mouse warrior. He was kissing the girls--made them cry. I couldn't have that.

"I'm done. Does anybody else want to go look at books with me?" That's the little girl. The young bunny of energy has already hopped out of the chair and is bounding away to some far away land. She's in a hurry to see the books before the store closes.

"I'm late! I'm late!"

Mom smiles swigs her coffee and chases behind. Dad finishes his coffee. He'll need it later.

Sometimes I wonder about being a dad. Would I be any good? I think I would, but sometimes what sounds good on paper never works out in real life. Look at my marriage certificate. Ok, sorry that was just a cheap shot. After the $1 espresso shot, I need a cheap shot. I also need to shake these jitters. My pen hand scrawls uncontrollably like a spiritual conduit. Maybe it can divine a way to the bathroom. I'm gonna need one soon.

This is my Friday night. It's different from the ones I planned when I was younger. It's different than the ones I planned during my marriage--funny how plans change. Still, I like my Fridays. I belly up to the coffee bar, and the tender coffee-tender flirts and smiles. Sure, she flirts with every patron, but for four bucks and the time it takes to make a cup of coffee, I own her world.

This may not be everybody's Friday night, but it's mine. I like it. See the girl sitting behind me? She's in here every Friday too. We never talk, but we do acknowledge each other. She sneezes, I say "God bless you." I spill my coffee on her, she says, "Ow! Fuck you!" Yeah, we're close. She gets upset easily. Her name's Amber. I hear she's kissed a lot of toads.