Part of the puzzle came together all of a sudden. “She—this female person I can’t quite put my finger on yet—was very upset because I said something about wanting to get a different chair for her mother, but I knew she wouldn’t plug it in.”
Brenda erupted with laughter, covering her mouth as she did. “I’m sorry, I know it’s probably inappropriate to laugh at that,” she replied. I was half-ashamed, half-pleased at her response.
“See, that’s the result I was going for.”
Brenda tried to stifle another laugh, “Plug it in. That’s pretty funny.”
“I thought so.”
“But you say this other woman didn’t see it that way?” The moment of warmth quickly passed, replaced with a palpable greyness.
“No. Not in the least,” I sighed.
Now the events came steady, almost streaming and pulsing. “We argued,” I uttered, my eyes closed. “I know I meant it to be funny at that moment, but I suppose there was some deep rationale for my saying it.” A wave of revulsion washed over me, a grudging antipathy in the wake of remembering the dispute. “Her mother,” I began and stopped as I reflected upon the words her mother. I strained to bridge the mental chasm, to make sense of it—because I knew it was supposed to make sense. It seemed my mind, or perhaps my subconscious, was willingly preventing any connection from being made.
Again, Brenda sat quietly while I gathered my thoughts.
“All I can make out now are raised voices,” I said as I rubbed my temples. “She’s clearly upset about the chair thing—we go back and forth for a while. I…” I paused again, letting my voice trail off and my thoughts catch up, “I tried to apologize but she kept hammering on me about how I didn’t care and I didn’t understand, and I was being unfair. I got really frustrated and bitter. I remember grabbing my keys and practically running toward the door.”
I looked up at Brenda, my eyes locking onto hers. Suddenly I could remember words again. “’Where’re you going?’” she barked at me. ‘Apparently it would be unfair of me to assume that I care about where I’m going,’ I yelled back at her, ‘and since you don’t understand that I’ve tried to honestly apologize then why should I begin to care about laying out the next half hour of my life for you!’” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as the argument rushed back at me, heated words jettisoned at one another, some glancing blows while others cratered upon impact. Brenda said nothing, only staring back in rapt attention.
“I turned around and marched into the garage, slamming the door behind me. I had the engine turned over before I saw the door open and she stepped through. I didn’t stick around to see what she had to say—I figured she was just going to yell more anyway. I glared at her through the dirty windshield, then threw the car in reverse and squealed out of the driveway.”
“Did you two argue often?” Brenda asked.
“No. Rarely, actually.”
She looked up over my shoulder, then stood suddenly. I didn’t turn around to look. “Mornin,” I heard her say.
“Good morning,” came the warm male voice. “Mind if I join you at the counter?”
“Suits me,” she replied. I felt her hand gently lay upon my shoulder. “Daron, do you mind?” I turned around and motioned to the stool next to me. “Not at all, please sit down.”
There was something uncommonly welcoming about him. I didn’t know this elderly man in a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, jeans and sandals—but for whatever reason I immediately felt comforted by his simple presence.
“Thank you kindly,” he said, sitting down cautiously. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all,” I assured him. “Miss Carty and I were just discussing—well, I was discussing—something that had happened recently.”
“World events, politics?” he asked, apparently intrigued. I looked across the counter at Brenda; she’d wandered back behind the counter again. “No,” I said, “something that had happened to me.” Brenda wordlessly held up the coffee pot and the stranger waved her off with a smile.
“Must have been quite something,” he remarked. His smile struck me the same as Brenda’s, like he knew something about me that I didn’t. It seemed to radiate through his white beard.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“When I came in you didn’t turn around to look. You were very absorbed in some kind of thought. You didn’t turn around until Brenda put her hand on your shoulder.” I looked at him first, then back at her.
“How . . .”
He motioned toward Brenda. “I come in here all the time.” She gave me a confirming smile.
“Well, no wonder Brenda is so good at reading me then.” The gentleman stranger just chuckled. “It can be a symbiotic relationship, to be sure,” he said. “We help each other out now and again.”
“Whatever inexplicable magic or transcendental wisdom you two possess, I’d be incredibly grateful if you could put my mind at ease, you know?” I caught Brenda’s gaze as her eyes darted in the stranger’s direction. It seemed as if she was waiting for him to make the next move.
“The existence of forgetting has never been proved. We only know that some things don’t come to mind when we want them.” His comment had every appearance of damming what had been a smoothly flowing conversation. I looked again at Brenda in the hopes she would be able to clarify it for me.
“Nietzsche,” was all she said.
“Thanks, that really helps,” I groaned.
“Think about it, Daron,” she implored. “It makes perfect sense—or it should.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’re frustrated, to say the least, because you instinctively know you have the memory stored somewhere, but you can’t call it up, right?”
“You got it right—to say the least.”
“So you really haven’t forgotten. Those memories are there, kind of like…like…a kite that’s stuck tethered to a tree limb, but the limb is just barely out of reach. You just need to find a way to reach it and pull the kite back down.” She grinned proudly at her nostalgic metaphor. While I clearly understood the parallel it seemed no less odd, but then my entire morning thus far had been anything but normal.
I turned toward our latest companion and stated flatly, “Kites.” He just smiled. No point in belaboring it; in all fact she was right. The stranger, I’d noticed, seemed keen on observing me, his gaze only occasionally straying from me to Brenda. He hadn’t so much as reached for a napkin or asked for a glass of water—he just sat there, apparently very content to simply watch. I thought it only fair that if he were studying me I that I know the man’s name.
“Would appear you know both our names, yet I don’t know yours?” I asked pointedly,
He extended his hand. “I’m Eloy,” he said, shaking my hand firmly. I felt as if I was shaking my grandfather’s hand after not having seen one another for years. Grandpa had always smiled and laughed when I saw him. “A pleasure to meet you, Eloy,” I said.
“The pleasure, I assure you, is mine,” he replied. “Would you mind terribly if I made an observation?” Brenda looked at me and shrugged. “No, sir, not at all,” I said “By all means do.”
Eloy breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. “It’s self-evident that you are very much drawn—I’d even say connected to—Brenda.” Many things in life you can see coming, even when unannounced: your birthday, filing taxes, a waitress with your order, or even the hug from an aunt with a hairy upper lip every Thanksgiving.
This was not one of those things.
“I, uh…” I stammered, looking over at her for some outward sign of approval or otherwise. She said nothing but her face had question marks written all over it. “We, uh, had discussed something earlier, umm, along those lines.”
“Come now, Daron. I didn’t say you were passionately in love with her.”
“Well, no, you didn’t,” I managed.
“Then?” he countered.
“She is acutely aware that I feel some
emotional connection to her.”
Brenda chimed in, “It’s true. The mere mention of my name practically made him keel over.”
“Keel over is a little dramatic, I think…”
“Oh please!” she admonished playfully. Eloy laughed out loud. “So the safe answer is yes, correct?”
I felt like a schoolboy whose secret crush had been revealed. “Yes, I’d say so.”
Eloy nodded in confirmation. “Okay then. What is it about her that you feel drawn to?” He seemed to look right through me. I had the unmistakable impression he could easily discern even the most translucent of white lies, so being evasive wasn’t a gambling man’s best bet.
“I’ve only known her for the last half hour I suppose, but there’s some profoundly inexplicable feeling I have that tells me we have some kind of past, that we’ve known each other for half a lifetime.” Again Eloy shifted his gaze back and forth between us.
“And what else? Surely she possesses some—what’s the word I’m looking for?” he asked himself thoughtfully rubbing his chin.
“Redeeming?” Brenda offered.
“Perfect!” he shouted. “Yes, surely she has some redeeming qualities?” I cast my eyes ceilingward and melodramatically drawled, “I don’t know.”
“I haven’t charged you for the waffles yet, have I?” she asked pointedly.
“Obviously,” I spouted, “she’s philanthropic to a fault.” She seemed amused with my reply.
“Or she’s fishing for a large tip,” Eloy added. I smiled; Brenda grimaced. “She has certainly earned it, my friend. She’s been nothing short of delightful thus far: sharp, funny, quick, and…” I paused to look in her direction, “I freely admit she’s a beautiful creature.”
I thought I detected the slightest trace of blush.
“You are most observant for only having been in her company for less than an hour,” he stated. “In all the times I’ve come here I’ve never known her to be anything but those things.”
Brenda smirked. “Nice recovery, Eloy.” He tipped the brim of an invisible hat upon his head.
“The two of you seem quite compatible, not the slightest whiff of pretense or awkwardness. I’m sure that’s part of what you sense, Daron.”
“Absolutely,” I answered. “It may be painfully obvious, but it’s not the knowns that bother me.”
Eloy leaned in a bit, a twinkle glinted in his eyes. “And what of the unknowns? Is it not those same intangibles that you feel most connected with?” He halted mid-thought and smiled. “This woman you hardly know,” he continued, gesturing toward Brenda with stately but graceful fingers, “stirs something inside you.”
I couldn’t help but stare at her as his voice dropped to an emphatic whisper, his words slipped upon the air with silken fluidity.
“Think Daron,” he urged, “reach back not with your conscious self, rather with that place where your fondest memories and heart meet. A touch, a kiss, a wordless look—think of those when you look at her. She’s there, I assure you.”
My masculine side wanted to spring to my defense, to lay claim to disbelief in such vagaries; truth stepped in the way, and wouldn’t budge.
“The soft breathing you hear in the watercolor darkness of the night—she’s there. The warm voice, sweet and smooth as honey—it’s hers. All you need to do is remember.”
I felt transfixed as I gazed at her. I all but muscled my will to not physically think, to just allow things to flow, unfettered by the largesse of cerebral deductions. Eloy was right—she was there. But I could sense only the slightest pull of emotional reminiscence, like the twinkling of a star in the night sky. Even though I couldn’t see the very sun that gave light to the stars’ glimmer, I knew it was there nonetheless.
Yet with delicate but spirited insistence I began to feel an indescribable warmth, which I could only attribute to her—and the more I let go, the easier it came, tranquil and soothing. I felt Eloy’s hand upon my shoulder. “See what I mean, son?” Wordlessly, I nodded. His gentle question had not been intended as an intrusion, yet it effectively severed the connection with all the grace of cold water on hot glass.
I winced in automatic response to my frustration. “I was so close,” I protested, “and now I still don’t know…” Eloy smiled, causing the corners of his eyes to lift ever so slightly, and raised his hand. He spoke not one word, uttered no sound in the least, but reached into his left jeans pocket and slowly withdrew a crisp one dollar bill and handed it to Brenda with a nod; she thoughtfully inspected first the face of it, then the back. She smiled and reached into her apron again, producing the pen, then carefully splayed the bill on the counter, face up, and with focused consideration inscribed something upon it. I started to reach for it, when Eloy once again requested my attention.
“Daron, look outside the windows and tell me what you see.”
“There’s nothing, I mean, literally,” I began without turning around.
“Look again, son,” he said, slowly waving his palm toward the portals. I shot him a questioning glance, then looked at Brenda as if to quietly state, This guy’s boat has sailed. She only nodded her affirmation of his request. Overruled, I reluctantly turned around.
The lingering obsidian nothingness had been displaced by a bleary, milky blue paleness; in no way as direct or harsh as sunlight, it seemed to surround and embrace the diner.
All I could do was stare.
The heavy cloak of dark had lifted, yet in its wake a new set of questions emerged: different, yet indelibly entwined and woven within the rest of the hour’s fabric. I turned to face Eloy, certain that he and he alone could explain—but he wasn’t seated next to me anymore. I looked to Brenda, who hadn’t moved from her spot since he’d arrived—she just grinned and motioned over my shoulder. There he stood, in the same spot where I had first encountered her, hands hidden in his pockets, and his smile melting away my apprehensions. He looked over my shoulder at Brenda and nodded.
“Hey,” she gently called. I was suddenly gripped by the fear that I may never hear her voice again. I wanted her to keep talking, but my own mouth wouldn’t move to form the words—to tell her what I felt. My heart sank as my head turned toward her felicitous voice.
She reached over the counter and tenderly grasped my wrist, then leaned forward and kissed my cheek in the most delicate but reassuring manner. I felt her fingertips place the dollar bill in my hand, then curl my own fingers around it. She wrapped both her hands around mine and squeezed ever so lightly. “You be careful with that—you’re gonna want to hang on to it.” Her smile immediately carried me back to the moment I first saw her as she greeted me. Although I didn’t recognize it then, I did now: it was filled with warmth and a zest for life.
I couldn’t help but stare directly into her eyes as I started to speak. “I—uh—think I have to—uh—go now,” I stammered pathetically. She nodded, and with a sweet smile gently released my hand. Without any forethought, I automatically turned to Eloy.
“Whadya’ say we blow this pop stand?” he asked, extending his hand. Giving Brenda a quick last look I saw her silently mouth the word Go. I grinned as best I could, then turned around and grasped his hand, the dollar bill clutched securely in the other. As we approached the door he stopped and squared himself to me.
“You’re almost there, Daron,” he said. “You just keep walking toward that beep…”
I’d almost completely forgotten about the beep. “You can hear it too?” I asked excitedly.
“Of course, son,” he smiled. “Things will start coming back to you now, I promise.” I shook his hand firmly.
“I’m not at all sure what I’m thanking you for, but I know I need to thank you.”
“My pleasure. You take care of yourself, alright?” He’d taken on an almost paternal demeanor.
“So long as you keep an eye out for her,” I bargained, thumbing in Brenda’s direction.
“Deal,” he said.
Leaning my shoulder into the door, it slid
open and I stepped into the chalky light. Each footstep toward the haunting beep was a confusing blend of elation and parting sorrow.
Each purposeful step forward carried with it an unquestionable sense of relief.