THE DEADLINE CAFÉ EPISODE #6

If Hank was the kind of guy you’d give a nickname—and he wasn’t, mostly because “Hank” was short enough--then he might have been called “Owl.” He had a swivel-headed radar-like ability to take note of customers while immersed in the art of coffee-making. He could hear things said while his back was turned and he was setting the dial on the coffee bean grinder. And he could see gestures both large and small out of the corner of an eye as he wiped off the steam wand with a clean cloth in one deft left-handed swipe while pulling a shot of espresso with his right hand.

Which was why Hank noticed the man as he came into the café--a grad student, Hank judged by the Euro-style briefcase and the three-day beard. Hank knew the type and though he tried to like them, grad students who were around his own age (which had hovered close to 30 for a few years now) got under his skin. This guy even looked a little like Hank, the way Hank remembered himself. He reminded Hank of his own hopes at one time to go for “the degree,” the whole nine yards, and maybe teach at a place like Northwestern or even Chicago. But something happened along the way and he realized that it was coffee, not Kant and his critique of pure reason, that made him feel alive.

The newcomer walked over to a small round table in the back corner and put his briefcase on one chair and his North Face over the back of the other. Hank watched him get his cappuccino from Lissa and return to his table, where he sat, beatifically, grading essays, looking up now and then to smile at Lissa. 

“You know that guy?” Hank asked Lissa.

“Who?”

“Who? – Him, there.”

“I’ve seen him around.”

Oakey came up behind Lissa and gave her a quick hug.  Hank nodded to her.  She was exactly on time for her training shift.  He gestured that he’d be with her behind the counter in a second.

“Seen him around or seen him for dinner?” asked Hank.

“Both,” said Lissa,  “Knew him years ago, before he got his doctorate in psychology. Now he’s back in town and if you want to know, as I know you do, we’re getting together Sunday.”  Lissa plated a chocolate chip scone.  “He wants to hear more about the café countdown because he has this theory about urban myths and small group dynamics.”

“I’ll bet he does.” Hank said, a new gloom settling in.  He watched as Lissa swiveled around gracefully and walked by him, all aglow.

Hank turned to Oakey. “Sorry, I—“

He was interrupted by a loud shout from the back of the café.  “OH MY GOD”  It sounded like the Whittler’s drawl.  “HANK.  LISSA.  TAKE A LOOK AT THIS.”

Hank bolted past Lissa and found the Whittler at the entrance to the unisex bathroom, pointing to the number 80 written in lipstick on the mirror, followed by three dots…

It didn’t take long before most everyone was crowded outside that doorway.  No one ventured a guess. They were as stunned as Hank.

When Hank’s eyes focused again, he saw all the familiar faces in the mirror, staring back, as if looking at him for answers: there was the Whittler, of course, and Lissa, she was right there with her big brown eyes, then the Professor’s stubbleface, even Mrs. Worthly’s styled blue-gray hair. Not Lissa’s dinner date, Hank remembered later. He must have skeedaddled.

There was a new face in the mirror, too.  One Hank hadn’t seen for a few weeks, and a welcome face it was: Jimmy the Campus Cop. 

EPISODES #7 AND #8 WILL APPEAR ON SUNDAY JUNE 26.