Tim almost cheered when he looked out the front
window the next morning and saw sunshine. Not that the snow would melt anytime
soon but at least it had stopped, and hopefully the sidewalks would be
shoveled. He got dressed quickly, made breakfast, and then flicked on the TV to
check the temperature. Surfing the channels, he hit one of the two local
stations just in time for the last of the morning news. "Thirty-two? Not
so bad." Turning it off, he grabbed his scarf, wrapping it around his
neck, put on his coat and gloves, and with his backpack slung over one
shoulder, took off.
The sunlight glared off the snow, causing him to
blink a few times before his eyes got used to it. The apartment building's
sidewalks were already shoveled, as were most of the ones he saw ahead of him
for the next block, until the he reached the main cross street. There, because
the buildings were primarily businesses—some of which didn't open until ten or
later—he would have had to follow the path beaten down by earlier pedestrians
if he was going to work. Being his day off, he wasn't.
But who
cares? At least it's not snowing and from the look of it, it's not going to
today.
He walked into the local coffee shop on the corner to
get his usual morning Americano. Much to his surprise, the barista greeted him
with a cheerful 'Good morning'. Tim looked around, figuring it must have been
meant for someone else but at the moment, he was the only one at the counter.
"Morning," he replied.
"Your usual?" the barista asked.
"Americano, yes."
"What's that?" someone asked from behind
him.
Tim turned to find Dom standing there. "You
don't know?"
Dom chuckled. "Wouldn't have asked if I
did."
"It's… well… basically, watered down espresso."
"Why water it down?"
"Because it tastes better than just coffee, but
isn't as strong as pure espresso."
Dom looked at the barista, saying "I'll take one
too, and one of those." He pointed to a breakfast sandwich in the case
beside the counter. "No food in the apartment yet," he explained to
Tim. "I guess that should go to the top of my list of things to do.
Speaking of which, I'm glad I ran into you. I have a favor to ask, when you
have the time."
"I have the time now, so ask away," Tim
replied with a small smile.
"Okay, I guess I didn't phrase that quite right.
I could use your help, if you're willing. I want to go to that thrift shop you
mentioned and I thought maybe you could take me there—and perhaps help me
choose some furniture?"
Tim swallowed hard. He's really asking me to help him? Me? "Umm… sure, I guess.
Now? I'm off today."
"I wish I was," Dom said with a rueful
smile. "How about late this afternoon, if it doesn't start snowing again?
Do you know if they deliver?"
Tim nodded. "Yes. Or I guess I should say they
did when I shopped there, so…"
"Got the picture. Let's hope they still do. I
don't see myself carrying a sofa home on my back."
"I don't think that's possible," Tim
replied seriously.
Dom laughed. "I was just kidding. Actually, I'd
think I'll rent a truck. Then I won't have to wait for stuff to be
delivered."
"Ah, umm, yeah." Tim felt stupid that he
didn't get Dom's joke, so he was glad when the barista handed him is Americano.
After paying for it, he told Dom, "I have to get going, but if you want to
do it this evening… around five?"
"Sure, that works for me. I'll see you
then."
* * * *
"He's not going to show up," Tim muttered
morosely.
He glanced at the time and saw it was just past
five-thirty. He probably found the shop on his own and… and someone he works
with has a truck and offered to help him. Story
of my life. No one really means what they say.
He dropped down on the sofa, suddenly not the least
bit hungry, even though he'd planned on suggesting he could fix a quick meal
for both of them before they went to the thrift store. "Dreamer," he
said, shaking his head. "He told me this morning he had to go shopping for
groceries. He probably did that right after work, got home, made supper then
went to meet his friend."
Laying his head against the back of the sofa, he
stared up at the ceiling. Why do I do
this to myself? Why do I believe someone might want to be my friend? It's never
happened before. Not really. Acquaintances, yeah, occasionally. Some regulars
at the library who makes it a point to ask me about books. A tenant or two here.
The ones who bother to talk to me in the elevator. That's it. I'm about as…as
useful as…as that damned picture. With his head on the back of the sofa, he
was able to squint up at it, seeing it upside down. I fill a space, just like it does. If I wasn't there, no one would even
notice.
He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like
to just drift off to sleep and never wake up. "Peaceful," he
whispered. "No more pain, no more rejection, no more…anything."
A sharp rap at the door startled him out of his
reverie. He sprang to his feet, hurrying over to answer it then stopped before
he did. Why bother? If it is him, he'll
apologize, say he found the shop without my help and got his friend with the
truck to help him move what he bought into his apartment. But maybe…
"Hi" Dom said, smiling when Tim opened the
door. "Sorry I'm so late but it took forever at the truck rental place and
I didn't have your number, so I couldn't call you."
"Oh." Tim felt a wave of relief wash over
him. "I… I figured you'd gotten a friend to help you and… well…"
Dom leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head.
"You're the only friend I've made so far since I got here. So…" When
Tim just stood there, Dom added, "It's pretty cold outside. You might want
to put on a jacket. I mean… if you're still willing to help me."
"I am!" Tim turned, dashing to get his coat
and gloves.
This is so amazing!
ReplyDeleteThank you.
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