We’re driving to this trendy little coffee shop (almost so trendy that too many people go there for it to be called truly independent anymore) and it has an outdoor patio with couches and Christmas lights hanging around and they serve these really good lattes. She’s kind of just sitting there in the driver’s seat, driving of course, hands on the wheel and all, and we’re listening to this mix CD she made when her and her boyfriend of just over one year broke up only two months ago. On the top of the disk she wrote this quote: “There is hope but not for us” which was really a punch in the face for me because it’s a nice and pessimistic line that I think rings pretty true. I’ve always felt exactly what that quote says. Of course there’s always hope, but why would it be wasted on people like us? So far she wasn’t all bad at all. She’s a very pretty driver, that is, she looks really lovely behind the wheel of this automobile. Are Toyotas supposed to be this flattering? What an odd observation. What’s wrong with you? Maybe it’s because from the side (the angle I have sitting in the passenger seat with her in the driver’s) as she’s holding onto the steering wheel she looks like she’s leaning forward, her chin tilted up just the slightest, like she just heard something funny and can’t help but throw her head back and laugh. She has a nice smile, from the side at least. No wait. Even when she turns, looks at me and smiles, it’s still a very nice smile. Maybe it’s the light that’s reflecting through the windshield. Jesus quit looking for explanations for everything and just enjoy the way she looks, she’s beautiful okay. Its sunset, that’s why. She looks exceptionally lovely at sunset.

     Oh the parking lots full. It’s a pretty popular center…the lots always full. No problem we’ll just park across the street, plenty of parking there. Yes walking is nice. Okay, spot found. Now what? She gathers her stuff (purse, book, etc.) and exits the car, stage left. I exit stage right and we walk to the street corner, across the street, and down the sidewalk in the opposite direction to the coffee shop with the outdoor patio and the couches and the Christmas lights. God she’s cute. I like her voice, I like hearing her talk. I’m asking her meaningless, borderline annoying questions that I like to think will ultimately lead to more deep talk, not just superficial yakking about school and college just because that’s a safe topic considering it’s the one thing we both definitely have in common (she’s a grade above me and we’re in the same psychology class). The people worth keeping around are the ones with ridiculous things to say. Okay we’re here. Open the door, be a gentleman for once. She takes a couple steps in and stands looking in awe at the menu above the cashier bar.

     “What are you gonna get?”
     “I don’t know. What are you gonna get?”
     “I think those lavender lattes are pretty good.”

     “Yeah…they are. I’m gonna get peanut butter toast, you can have some of it.” She steps up to the counter and asks for peanut butter toast and some kind of tea. I order my thing and she’s already wandering around the place, innocent and light, looking for somewhere to sit outside but all the seats are full out there so she decides to sit on this wooden bench with a table inside and wait until one of the outdoor couches opens up. I sit down and we just sorta sit there for a bit. I’m just looking at her trying to get my wits about me to form a sentence of substance and she’s just smiling. For as awkward and uncomfortable as I should, and probably do seem, I feel a lot more natural and relaxed around this girl. She’s nice and I don’t think she would tell everyone if I did or said something stupid. Anyways we’re sitting there and the small talk comes around the same time her toast and our drinks do so she eats her toast and I drink my latte and we talk about school (of course) and her recent separation from her boyfriend of so many months between the bites and sips. It doesn’t take long for me to realize I’m totally captivated with this girl. I realize that I don’t mind hearing her go on about her feminism club or her books or her love life or her clothes, everything that comes out of her mouth is like a tiny little gift, shooting through the empty space between us from her to me. Special. I’m treasuring every second of it and I’m trying to hang in there long enough to not make an idiot out of myself. She’s talking about cheer (she’s a cheerleader) when the couch outside opens up, I point, she turn and looks, and immediately we’re up and scurrying outside. She’s having trouble holding her book and tea and toast and phone in her tiny hands and I can’t help but smile and laugh a little. Jesus, are you hearing yourself right now?
     

We’re outside on the couch and this is truly a lot better than inside. The suns just about set but it’s still warm out but not too warm cause I usually hate the heat (so does she) and the Christmas lights are nice and I get to sit about three inches closer compared to how we were sitting inside. Talking, talking, talking, and talking. All we do is talk and eat and drink. She gives me a corner of her peanut butter toast; she tears it real dainty and cute with her adorable fingers. It’s drooping and heavy with peanut butter, there’s more spread than bread. I chew the thing and am rendered silent for about five minutes as I wrestle with the thick stuff. She just watches me chew. God she’s cute. We talk about books and Jack Kerouac, who’s my absolute favorite. She’s never read On the Road. Maybe this was a bad idea. Wait she’s too cute and funny and intellectual for this to be a bad idea. She loves poetry and pessimism. She’s just about the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met besides myself. She’s also the oddest. It’s about this point that I get light headed from being too content and laughing far too much for me to easily remember what happens next. It’s a vibrantly blurred expanse filled with even more laughs, smiles, sarcasm, and tea punctuated by the occasional reading break where we take our time with our respective books for only a couple minutes before one of us thinks of another earth shattering epiphany and we’re right back into endless talking and smiling. You can’t keep us quiet for too long. She really is something. During these designated reading breaks I can’t help but look up just to watch her read, lost and focused and beautiful. We talk about love and what it does and doesn’t mean and what the matter with it all is. We really get nowhere. I keep asking her questions just to hear her talk and she must not be getting terribly annoyed with me yet because she hasn’t stopped answering and hasn’t asked to leave yet. I’m too afraid to leave. We talk about a friend of ours who’s throwing a party in two days because his parents are going to be out of town and he has pool. I tell her I’m most likely going to be there and I promised her that if I was in fact there, I would call her and she would drink and lose her mind with me. Deal. Perfect.

     “Hey it’s getting kinda late you need to get home,” she says. Okay. After a bit more conversation I ask if she’s ready to leave and she says yeah. It’s the same walk back to the car, only in the dark, and we’re still not talked out. I ask her about the guys that call her and flirt with her and then follow up by telling her about the lack of women that come my way. Not a total lie. I sound like a charity case. We’re back in her car just sitting there. It’s dark now, no lights in the car but enough coming from the building and the streetlamp outside. This is not ideal but I think I have to do it. Do what? You know quite well what. I don’t think I do, enlighten me. What if this is the last moment I share with this magnificent person, I may never see or speak to her again. Wait. Yes. No. I’m gonna. Don’t. I have too she’s too great of a person for me to not kiss her right this second. I don’t know man. This may never happen again. You have to do it now before she starts the car. I know. Well do it! Okay.

     “Okay wait. I know this is weird and all, and feel free to say no, but I was wondering if, I mean, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

     “Okay.” She smiles, a part of me floats away never to be seen again, and I kiss her. That’s that. Done. Yes. Thank God.
     Here’s to a million more of those.