‘What do you want to do today?’ asked Katie.
‘I don’t know, do you have something in mind?’ replied Kevin, without looking up from his crossword. The boyfriend lounged on a maroon couch with worn oak legs and a noticeable melancholic fade to the leather. It was a hand-me-down from his late aunt. An off-white mug of drip coffee steamed next to him on a black side table. He reached for the beverage with the elegance of a Russian ballerina as to not adjust his position. It took him 5 minutes to situate himself in a comfortable pose after first sitting down. He was too focused to fuss. Sixty-three down, a four letter “small songbird”, garnered his attention.
‘We could check out that West Side Market?’, Katie postulated. ‘I’ve been meaning to go. You said we could do that one day.’
There was a new farmer’s market opening today in the village just West of Katie and Kevin’s city flat. The website stated it would run every Sunday from 8am to 1pm starting in April and ending in November. Katie longed for that first breath of spring fresh air after a dreary winter. There would be sparse fresh fruits or vegetables this early in the season, but it did not matter. The faintest concept of a brighter future lied ahead in the Magnolia blossoms she noticed on her walk home from work yesterday. The commute was easier. She wanted to peruse and frolic in all Her glory.
‘Sure. Let me finish this crossword first. What time do you want to leave? What time does it start?’
‘It started at 8, so if we leave in 15 minutes, will only miss the first hour and a half. I’m sure nothing much goes on that early anyway. Everyone is still sleepy.’
‘Ok. I’ll finish the crossword later. Let me change and then we can go.’
‘Nice! Ok I’m going to change too.’
‘Ok.’ Kevin unglued himself from the grasps of the couch monster and headed to the closet to don attire more dignified for a weekend outing. As he swung his torso from a prone position to upright, his knee cracked. I’m getting old, he thought. No, no, no. No you’re not. It’s the thought of getting old is what ages the mind and body. You’re fine.
Kevin often found himself negotiating with his own monologue. Whether it was a matter as trivial as to opt for 1% milk over the one-hundred percent more fattening 2%, or if he should drop it all and convince Katie to move with him to Alaska to fish and hunt and live in squalor. And now, he would have to negotiate with the permanently decrepit space in his mind that hated spending money. The farmer’s market was nothing but a mechanism for dollars to transfer from his wallet to the vague “local economy”, and he struggled to look beyond his innate scarcity. Of course money was no issue for the young couple. They both had good jobs, the two of them. A steady duel income. Kevin is an Accountant at a local robotics startup. 5 minute commute downtown. Solid base and equity. Generous benefits. Katie sells medical devices to area hospitals. Works remotely from the home office. Great flexibility and work-life balance. She traveled when she needed to. They both do well for themselves. Many would envy for their stability and upward trajectory. And yet Kevin couldn’t help but to think of himself as a mangy dying squirrel caching his tokens away for a rainy day or some worse future hypothetical disaster scenario. He didn’t need much, and he was convinced there was nothing he needed to buy. And it was not like Katie was frivolous anyway; she was the one that suggested that they order McDonald’s and drink cheap wine in the park for their first date instead of ponying up for an overpriced meal at a local bistro.
But lifestyle creep was an unavoidable inconvenience. Take the light blue wash denim jacket he was sporting for today’s outing, for example. The jacket ran him $149.98 when he purchased it on sale last fall. It was a quality jacket. Made in America. It would last him years. It might even last long enough to be passed down to hypothetical children. An item of clothing transversing multiple generations was a strange concept to Kevin. But he had no need for that jacket. He could just wear something cheap. Strangers had expectations of him though now that he was a contributing member of the “local economy”. The public would sort him into a generic category of affluence and upbringing, regardless of if he wished to enter the sorting game in the first place. He might as well influence their decision to place him in the esteemed category. Nonsensical thoughts continued to bombard his mind as he laced up his tan Chelsea boots. He shouted down the hall. ‘I’m going to go get the car, I’ll text you when I’m out front.’
The four main streets that converged to form the town square were blocked off to allow for safe pedestrian traffic and for the purveyors to set up temporarily booths for the market. There was a free parking lot a few blocks away, or, if you wanted to pay for a meter on a first come first serve basis, you could park on the opposite side of one of the four blocked streets. Kevin perused the parking options, driving his 2015 Buick LaCrosse slow enough to watch for open spots. ‘There’s one’, said Katie. ‘They are backing out. You can wait for them to leave. I have quarters. It should only be 25 cents per hour. I have 4 quarters so that should be plenty.’ Perfect, said Kevin. Not that a close parking spot meant anything to either of them. They were both able bodied and able to walk long distances. Perhaps the close metered spot could have been saved for an elderly couple suffering from grout and a recent hip replacement. Having to walk a long way is bad for the old.
Kevin maneuvered the LaCrosse in between the white lines and put the vehicle in the park position and shut off the engine. Katie popped out of the passenger’s side and slotted 3 quarters into the meter. This is fun, she thought. The trees were still barren from the winter frost, but there were signs of life. Songbirds sang sweet songs of seduction in the branches above. One of the songs Katie recognized as the song of the House Wren. She remembered this from biology class. Her professor often took the class on field trips to local habitat areas to study birds and amphibians and flora. The bubbly trill song of the House Wren stuck with her through the years. The notes cut through the general noise of the small crowd that had already amassed at the market this early in the morning. She expected serenity, but there were a panoply of sounds disrupting the peace. One of these sounds was a street musician playing a cover of an 80s tune that she recognized as one from her father’s preferred album of music. Many songs rang out. As they walked towards the center of the market, the first tent they approached was the produce tent from a local farmer. There was not much available. Some winter lettuces, small strawberries, and mushrooms. Not even enough to make an appetizer. That’s okay though, she thought.
‘These strawberries are so sad’, remarked Kevin. ‘You couldn’t even make a pie with them.’
‘Yeah, I bet they aren’t even sweet.’
‘Oh, they are sweeter than the big plump ones we get in the middle of the summer’. An older fellow wearing a straw hat, ruffled white shirt, and tattered overalls stepped forward. Typical.
‘Have a smell. You smell that? The perfume? Those big strawberries you get from the grocery store don’t smell like that. Sure, they look like strawberries, they sure as Hell taste like strawberries, but they don’t SMELL like strawberries. You smell that? That’s a strawberry.’
‘Oh yeah? Tell me more.’ Katie was interested.
Kevin lost interest. ‘I’m gonna go get a coffee. You want anything?’
‘No, I’m ok!’
‘Ok, I’ll see you in a bit.’ Kevin wandered off towards what he presumed to be the fresh coffee stand a few tents down. The raspy voice of the old farmer explaining soil pH and precipitation simulations drowned out as he grew further from the tent. What a kook Kevin thought. That guy should be selling used cars or junky computer software. Or maybe he did and now he’s retired. Good for him. There are worse ways to spend the golden years. On his way to the coffee tent, he passed a confectioner’s tent selling homemade candies. They looked good. Maybe he would come back for a sample to go with his coffee. He was American, but he loved the European tradition of pairing a good sweet with the bitterness of the morning Joe.
A normal looking guy, maybe a few years older than him and a bit heavier, with a plump pale face and disinterested eyes, stood at the helm of the coffee stand. A few paces behind him, his wife, a blonde who was also a tad overweight, was grinding beans. Rows of Arabicas and Breakfast Blends lined the temporary shelves set up under the shelter of the tent.
‘Good morning sir, what can I get for you?’ The disinterested man was now interested.
‘Morning. I’ll just take a coffee. Small.’
‘One small coffee, coming right up. You need room for cream?’
‘Yes please, just a little room.’ Kevin made a pinching gesture with his hands to signify “little”. He couldn’t help it.
‘You got it’. His voice was enthusiastic. He was enjoying himself.
The wife stopped her grinding and began pouring the coffee out of an urn and into a styrofoam cup before Kevin stopped speaking. She set it down on the folding table and smiled and said here you go. Kevin said thanks.
‘That’ll be a dollar.’
‘That’s it?’
Kevin, surprised, pulled a wadded single out of his front left pocket and handed it to the plump man. The plump man took the creased dollar and placed it in a jar.
‘Yeah, we don’t profit off the fresh stuff we sell here. We hope the cheap sample will prompt you to purchase a bag. Only if you like it though. The cream and sugar are on that table down there to my left.’
‘Thanks man. I’ll be back if it’s to my liking.’
‘Appreciate it. Have a good one.’
Kevin walked to the accoutrements table and topped off his steaming cup of Arabica with a splash of half and half. He took a sip. It was too hot to taste. He walked carefully as to not spill the hot coffee on his jacket, back towards the produce stand to reunite with Katie. She was not there. Katie had moseyed a few booths over to the palm reading station.
‘Now have you ever had your palms read before?’, implored the lady behind the counter. She had long braided gray hair, tattered from years of knowing the fates of strangers, mischievous eyes, more piercings and items of jewelry than a mathematician could count in thirty seconds, and she wore a Persian scarf. She was not Persian. Katie hesitated before dispelling a white lie to her:
‘No, this is my first time.’ Katie had done a palm reading when she was in 8th grade. She was at the county fair with her friend from school that her mother didn’t approve of. Her parents weren’t raising her right, mom always said. Mom was right. Her friend from 8th grade was now in prison for drug possession and child endangerment. Katie didn’t know any better at the time. She just wanted to know her future. So she had her palms read by a similar character at the County Fair and was left unsatisfied with the answer. Which is what led her back to this moment.
‘Ok, well since it’s your first time, you may not be prepared to process this information I will bestow upon you. You may feel angry, sad, delighted, or more confused than before you even wandered up into my presence. I encourage you to take some time to yourself to consider your fate and weigh your onus of destiny. Do you understand me?’
Katie was annoyed. Just get on with it. But she feigned innocence. And she was genuinely curious.
‘Yes….. I think I understand. I’m ready.’
‘Great… please place your right palm on the table… and please tell me your birthday…. while I caress the ridges of your being….’
Weirdo. Katie lay her hand in front of the wicked witch lady and waited. The witch stroked her flesh and made strange moaning and humming sounds. She was already over this stupid ordeal again. She thought it would be fun to do since it was here. Kevin would laugh at her, but in an endearing way. He never meant any malice. He would ask what the palm reader said and she wouldn’t tell. You’re not supposed to tell anyone. Not even your partner. She told Kevin everything, important and unimportant, but this was neither. This was just silly.
‘Your palm tells me… you come from a great family…. with greatness etched throughout centuries of ancient history…’. The palm reader bullshitted. Katie’s mother was born in a minivan behind a K-Mart. Her father’s grandfather was a dustbowl farmer. The witch continued.
‘You… you….’
The witch hesitated to say what she was going to say and then smiled. A wry, sinister smile. Katie got scared. She wanted to be done.
The strange bejeweled woman leaned over the table and whispered something in Katie’s ear just as Kevin was approaching the tent. Katie leaned back and gazed off into the distance. The witch smiled at her.
‘Having fun?’ Kevin approached the table and butted in the conversation.
‘Actually, we were just finishing up’. Katie was nervous now. A deep unsettling fervor ate at her insides.
‘Yes we are! And you must be Kevin?’
‘Only on weekends. If you saw me on a weekday, I’m Hubert. How much for the reading?’ Kevin joked with the witch as he pulled out his wallet.
The witch chortled like a frog was still stuck in her throat.
‘What a gentleman! Paying for his lady to see her future. Or maybe he’s just paying to see his own future!’ The psychotic woman suggested. ‘Normally I charge $10, but for this young and stunning couple, and since it was your first reading my dear, I can only take $5.’
Kevin smirked and pulled an Abe with wrinkled corners out of his wallet. He handed it to the insane lady. Her hands were cold with death.
‘Thank you my darling. Now remember dear, you mustn’t tell anyone! The witch lectured Katie while stealing a glance at Kevin and winking.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
‘Okay, now you two have a lovely day! Goodbye for now!’
‘You too’.
Kevin and Katie walked away from the palm reading table. Kevin was still smirking like an idiot. Katie was cross.
‘So, what was all that about?’ Kevin asked as he walked and sipped his coffee.
‘Oh, nothing. Something silly I wanted to do.’
‘Well did she tell you anything interesting?’
‘No, not really, and besides, I’m not supposed to tell you what she said anyway. I’m gonna go check out the homemade candle tent down on the other end. Wanna come?’
‘Sure.’
And so Kevin dropped the issue for now, but he would bring it up later. Curiosity was his strength and his kryptonite.
The couple spent the next few hours perusing various homemade creations, including artisanal cheeses and dips, craft jewelry, grass fed beef and free range chicken cuts, bakery items, jarred goods, DIY garden kits, and other particulars that might appeal to the leisure class of society. Although they did plenty of browsing, in the two hours they were there, they managed to not spend a single more dollar. Katie and Kevin agreed that they might want to stay out for a bit before heading home, and so anything that needed refrigerated would spoil in the car.
‘Do you want to do anything else today while we’re here? I think there’s a ballgame tonight at the stadium, maybe 7 or so? We could grab some lunch at a cafe and then walk around and kill time until then? Maybe see a film? Or go to the park for hiking? It’s a nice day to be outside. Let’s stay here.’
‘Yeah, that sounds fun. But what about the car?’
‘Ah, fuck it. I’ll get a parking violation. I don’t feel like moving it. We can pick it up after the ball game. Is that what you want to do then?’
‘Yeah, let’s do it.’
‘Great. I’ll look for tickets online. They shouldn’t be too expensive. In the mean time, let’s grab lunch. I’m hungry. Are you hungry?’
‘You’re always hungry.’
‘Yes, but I’m extra hungry right now. I didn’t get to eating breakfast this morning.’
Katie thought that was strange. Kevin always ate breakfast. Maybe he wanted to eat a big lunch instead. Sometimes he did that.
‘Yeah, I’m pretty hungry too. All of these places on the square might be busy though. How about Bob’s? It’s only a few blocks away. We could walk. I do love Bob’s.’
‘Bob’s sounds great.’
‘Ok. Let’s do it. This is a good day.’
Kevin wrapped his arm around Katie’s shoulder and kissed her on the temple. The sun crept behind a cloud and the temperature dropped. As they left the market, they could still hear the street musician playing covers. He had moved on to the ‘90s.
Bob’s is a greasy spoon with an interior from the ‘50s, a waitstaff from the ‘60s, and menu pricing from the ‘70s. Kevin thought it was perfect. Katie thought it was charming. Bob’s was one of their “spots”. It was one of their safe havens when they didn’t feel like cooking at home or going somewhere fancy.
Belinda, who attended Woodstock ‘69, was running the front of house today. ‘Welcome in, y’all just have a seat wherever. We don’t have any tables open right now but there are a few spots at the bar. Or if y’all wanna wait about 5 minutes, I’ll have Johnny come bus that table right over there in the corner and seat you there.’
‘Thank you. We will go to the bar.’
‘Alright y’all.’
Kevin gestured to Katie to lead the way and she did, weaving through the array of tables with checkered tablecloths that were situated way too close to each other.
Kevin spoke to her from behind as they walked towards the bar. ‘You think we come here often enough for her to recognize us?’
‘I think she still thinks about JFK every day.’
Kevin chuckled. Katie’s sense of humor was always sharp. It always had been.
There were a few bar seats available. Katie and Kevin took two on the end, leaving one open seat between them and the next closest customer. Within seconds, an elderly clean cut man who was dressed like he just got out of the Situation Room for the Cuban Missile Crisis, swung by their seats and dropped off a couple of menus. He welcomed them in and said he would grab a couple of coffees and anything else to drink they would like. Coffees and waters were good for now. The couple didn’t need the menus. They already knew what they would order. Bob’s Big Breakfast for both; sausage links and eggs over easy with rye toast for Katie, bacon strips and scrambled eggs with sourdough for Kevin; pancakes for both. They would also split a bowl of fruit.
‘So…. are you really not going to tell me what the crazy lady said?’
‘I already told you, you’re not supposed to share your fortunes with others. Not even your loved ones. It’s forbidden.’
‘Forbidden by who, exactly?’ Kevin sipped his coffee.
‘I don’t know. Fate? I just know not to tell.’
‘But she knew my name. Isn’t that funny to you?’
‘No. I told her your name. And your birthday.’
‘Ahh, so she’s a horoscope merchant. She probably just memorized today’s readings for every sign and regurgitated it back to you once she knew your birthday. The five dollars is for making a show out of it.’
‘Yeah, probably.’
‘Yeah, so is that what she whispered to you? Your horoscope?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Pretty much?’
‘Yes. Like I said, I can’t tell you for sure. But it was nothing special.’
‘I see.’
Kevin believed her. He wanted to believe her, and there of course was a chance she was lying, because everybody lies, but he had no reason to press the issue. He was having a good day. She was having a good day too. He could always tell when it was one of her good days and not one of her bad days. She wore the chemical imbalances on her face and in her eyes. Her eyes were happy like a panda bear. So there was no need to start an argument.
The food came quick like always. Bob’s prides itself on turnaround times of 15 minutes or less. That way you would not be rushed to eat. You could still take the customary hour of sit time at the table without being forced to gobble down your pancakes and bacon. You could eat and digest and read the paper and talk about the weather or today’s ballgame or what that red nosed city councilman said on the news last night. Time stood still inside Bob’s. The couple ate in silence, but not because of awkwardness, but because the food was good. The Cuban Missile Crisis waiter, who’s name was Dave, dropped in a few times to ask how everything was tasting and to top off their coffees. Both of them finished all of their food, a rarity.
‘Are you ready to head out?’
‘Yes. I could go for a walk. I need to digest.’
‘That sounds like a great idea. I bought the tickets while you were in the bathroom. Left field bleachers. $12 each. Not bad at all. We can grab a few beers and hot dogs if we’re hungry. I probably will be by then. But for now, let’s just walk around and rest at the park if we need to.’
‘Ok. That sounds nice.’ Katie stood up and put her vest on and kissed Kevin on the cheek before heading for the door. Kevin left two crisply folded $20s on the counter.
Katie aroused from her light slumber and rolled over from her right side to her left side to check the clock on her phone, which was resting on the nightstand. It read 1:13 AM. Kevin was out cold. She grumbled upwards onto her feet and put her nightgown on. The room was cold. The rest of her and Kevin’s clothes still lay on the floor. She wandered down the hallway and down the stairs to the bathroom to do something she meant to do when they got home a few hours ago. They had gotten home later than expected because the ball game went to extra innings. The home team ended up winning in the bottom of the 11th with a walk off single. It was cool to see.
With her phone flashlight as a guide, she rustled through the top drawer until she found what she needed. She sat down on the toilet and held the stick in the area of dispersion until it was adequately coated. She set it on the counter and brushed her teeth while she waited. The bathroom light was off, but the flashlight of her phone was still shining upward at the ceiling, and in the reflection of the light off the mirror, she could see a shadowy sliver of her face. It looked tired. She was tired. It was a long day. A good day, but a long day nonetheless. As she brushed, she thought of everything she could possibly think of besides the fortune teller lady. She thought of her parents and her brother and her client meeting on Monday and of the House Wren and of what she wanted for lunch tomorrow. After an eternity had passed, the three minutes was finally up. She grabbed the dampened stick and held it up to her light.
One line. It was negative.
Katie is 25.
.
.
.
Onwards,
Tony
Writer Boy
Humble Wordsmith
In the summertime, when the weather is high
You can stretch right up and touch the sky
When the weather's fine
You got women, you got women on your mind
Have a drink, have a drive
Go out and see what you can find