Chapter 1
He began coming in a few months ago, just as February was tiring and on its way out. I would see him once or twice a day, three or four days a week. If he was working mornings he would come into the shop first thing, order a hot chocolate and sometimes a donut or a breakfast sandwich, returning on occasion for lunch, or once more before he headed home after work... if he got out before six in the evening, which is when I'd close for the night.
I found myself thinking about him on the days he wasn't there and had a hard time keeping my eyes off of him when he was. I know I sound like a stalker but honestly, I'm not. He's just that sweet-faced and polite. His fair skin and curly, dirty-blonde hair was a fascinating contrast. Most of the guys I'd known were tanned to a fine leathery consistancy. This man seemed to like his natural skin, and I found that I liked it as well.
I'd tried many times to engage him in small talk but learned that he was a very shy man, something I found unusual and quite attractive. It's odd, in this world, to find someone like him. Someone who isn't full of themselves, entitled, spoiled. I'd asked him his name a few times, but he would avoid eye contact, pay for his order, reply with a quiet "Thank you," and then go to sit in his usual spot.
He'd sit in the most isolated corner of my shop, which is a combination cafe and used bookstore, nibble on his sandwich, sip his drink and read, seemingly oblivious to everything and everyone around him. Some of the younger patrons, who for some reason took exception to his quiet, began to make snide remarks as he passed, or would outright shoot an insult at him, but he never reacted or seemed to notice them. One day a couple of the more spoiled millennials walked up to him and began to harass him only to be met with silence.
One of the young men looked over his shoulder and asked, "What're you reading? Shakespeare! You know you're not impressing anyone, pretending to read that," he jibed as he grabbed the book out of the quiet young man's hands. The other 'accidentally' tipped his hot cocoa over while they taunted him.
The Quiet Man, as I'd dubbed him for lack of a better name, thought quickly and grabbed napkins to keep the cocoa from spilling onto his pants. I could see his face growing pink but he otherwise didn't react to the ill-treatment.
The first antagonist tossed the book back onto the still slightly wet table and was about to say something else, but I'd had more than enough by then and I intervened, striding quickly over to the table.
"Leave him alone!" I ordered, gently picking up the book and using my apron to dry it before it could be stained or warped, "He's not bothering anyone."
One of the millennials laughed at me and replied in a snide tone, "You're just here to pour the coffee, go back where you belong."
"I own this store, kid," I replied dangerously, "and I have the right to refuse service or admittance. I'd like to advise the two of you that you're not welcome here anymore. If you continue to bother this man in any way or dare to come in here again, I will report you to the police for harassment and trespassing. If you think I'm blowing smoke up your butts, just try me."
I hadn't raised my voice, but the tone had the attention of the two troublemakers, as well as many of the nearby patrons who had interrupted their own conversations to gawk and listen to what was going on. I was a little angry with them as well since they had heard and seen what was happening and hadn't done anything to stop it.
The first kid, the one who had knocked the book out of Quiet Man's hands, tried to rally. "You can't do anything to us. If you try to kick us out we'll take everyone here with us and spread the word about what a shit hole this place is. You'll be out of business in a week," he said haughtily.
"Leave, please. Now." I replied in a level tone.
"Hear this?" shouted the other young punk to the crowd in general, "We're getting kicked out of here for trying to talk to this guy. Since when is just trying to talk to someone considered harassment? And this guy here, the owner," he continued, slurring the word, "is kicking us out. Permanently, according to him. If anyone else here thinks he's being an unfair jerk, come on with us. There are other places we can go that are a lot better."
The gawkers remained silent for a few seconds before turning back to their friends and continuing their conversations in hushed tones, some throwing the two troublemakers the occasional look, some glancing with curiosity at the man at the center of the confrontation who seemed to have curled into himself somewhat. Throughout the entire thing, he'd remained silent.
The two young guys gaped in astonishment when no one joined them, ignored them in fact, including the friends they'd been with, some of whom blushed in embarrassment or hid their faces. The two offenders faces, turning a bright red with either anger or embarrassment, or both, grabbed their things, gave me a dirty look, and stormed out. I would go through the security recordings later and take stills of their faces so that my employees would know who they were if they had the nerve to come back in.
I turned and gently placed the book back on the now cleaned and dry table. "I'm really sorry about that," I apologized, "it won't happen again, I promise. Can I get you another drink? It'll be on the house."
"No thank you."
The man's voice was so quiet I barely heard it, but he did straighten up as he gathered his backpack and jacket and prepared to leave.
"I hope you'll come back," I said softly.
The young man very briefly turned grey-blue eyes on me. With a wooden expression and another quiet 'Thank you,' he left the store. I watched him through the windows to make sure the troublemakers were gone before going back to work. I called my friend Paul on the police force and informed him as to what had transpired and he happily took a report.
"Fax me those pictures, ok Jonah?"
"You got it, Paulie. Thanks," I grinned.
"Don't call me Paulie," he replied in a long-suffering tone. It had been a little game between the two of us since we were kids, and silly as it was neither of us ever seemed to tire of it.
Well, I sure didn't.
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