little word. Sounds botanical. A bed of flowering polyps. Gather ye polyps while ye may.
Kelly takes another swallow of coffee. Sheâs sitting in a Starbucks across from her doctorâs office, having a wedge of apple cake for breakfast and watching through the window while the street wakes up. Itâs just after nine. Usually by this time sheâs had two big mugs full of coffee, but this morning she had to fast for her physical. She can feel the caffeineâ
Simon? Is that him? Across the street? She leans forward, trying to see. No. Not Simon. Just a guy with his hair. The set of his shoulders. She sits back in her chair. Spears the lone chunk of glazed apple in her cake with her plastic fork and eats it.
She went and dreamed about him last night. A silly teenagerâs dream. They were dancing. He was breathing into her hair, his mouth close to her ear. He said, I think Iâm falling in love with you . Even in her sleep, she knew the dream was hokey.
She drains her coffee, looks at her watch. Her bone density test isnât till ten. She takes her empty cup and goes and fills it back up with Columbian Dark. Wonders what theyâll charge her for a refill; if thatâs the word. Maybe itâs rerun or redo . These places have their own language, and she doesnât come into one often enough to pick it up.
I donât belong in the world . She made Simon laugh with that. Sheâd just handed his Blackberry back to him after examining it. Itâs true. At some point, it all just started to elude her. Starbucks and Blackberries and iPods and iPads and YouTube. And young female celebrities who all look the same and all seem to be leading the same disastrous life. It all just makes her feel old. At fifty-seven. Meera, the young Hindu woman she works with, asked her the other day if her church forbids cell phones. She couldnât get over the fact that Kelly still doesnât have one. âAnglicans donât really forbid anything,â Kelly said. âWe just decide weâre above it.â
Her refill turns out to be a dollar. She smiles while she tops it up with one percent milk. Simon would get a kick out of that. We just decide weâre above it. She stops smiling. She wasnât going to do that anymore. Tuck away tidbits to share with Simon.
Back at her table, she looks around and wonders if sheâs in somebody elseâs usual spot. Itâs prime real estate, right by the window. The man at the next table has regular written all over him. Heâs staked out the other two chairs with his coat and satchel, and settled in for the morning with his newspaper. And didnât he give her a sharp look when she first sat down?
Give yourself a break, Kelly. Simonâs voice. Lighter and more musical than most menâs. Youâre a paying customer. His pale blue eyes, their expression a little exasperated. You donât think enough of yourself. His hand, reaching for hers acrossâ
Shit .
She puts her cup down. Straightens her back. Places her feet flat on the floor. Closes her eyes. Takes in a deep, deliberate breath. Create in me a clean heart. Breathes out, focusing on the air leaving her lungs. And renew a right spirit within me. Does it again. Following the breath. Repeating her mantra. Which she suspects is too wordy.
She took a meditation course last winter in the basement of All Saints. Their teacher was a Buddhist nun with a shaved headâa woman originally from Savannah, Georgia, whose accent kept making Kelly smile. Fallow the bray-eth. Ee-yin. Owt.
The nun suggested some one-word mantras ( may-an-truhs ) for them to try. But the psalm refrain from Sundayâs service was still going round in Kellyâs head.
Breathe in. Create in me a clean heart.
âLoo lah-bee?â A toddler at a table behind her is asking the same question over and over.
Breathe out. And renew a right spirit within me.
âLoo lah-bee?â Each time, the
Laura Locutus
Gertrude Chandler Warner
Donald Harstad
Timothy Williams
Margaret Yorke
Alisa Woods
Jack Ludlow
Deborah Fletcher Mello
Tyler Anne Snell
Anne Swärd