Then, Now, and a While Later....

(If public embarrassment isn’t grounds for divorce)

The husband and I (I’m speaking for the hubby here as this is MY blog, HA! So he can only give that grunt of approval or disapproving “Hmm..” I am honored with, after each post. This, after dancing around him going “What do you think? What do you think?” while he reads it), we like to be that couple who go running early on Saturday and then relax at Peet’s sipping coffee and reading the Boston Phoenix or the Globe or whatever. Well we haven’t got the running bit down but we do a fair bit of the coffee drinking on Saturday mornings. There’s this game we play there which I guess almost everyone has played at some level. We watch people who go by or come into the café and try to guess what they do for a living or anything about them. There’s obviously no way of winning this game, but it’s funny and we get to polish our Hindi trying to say “Investment Banker who wants the brunette barista with a navel ring” while the other adds “One time only” after that.

This Saturday brought a cheery girl with long dark hair bouncing in to the counter. She needed directions to MoS and listened to the complicated instructions being given to her with a helpless “Can’t you just take me there?” look. A pleasant looking chap with curly hair and a paperback stuffed in the pocket of his jeans slides up to help her, much to the relief of the barista who moved on to the elderly couple behind her. There was a pause as the barista and the elderly couple looked at the energy with which the guy began to help the girl. Now the elderly couple were a sweet, wrinkly pair. The lady had on these loose, flowered capris and she carried a HUGE purse and he wore a Red Sox cap and carried a cane. They took their time staring at the lists and lists of cappuccinos and frappacinos wondering no doubt why they didn’t just have “Coffee - Large” listed and maybe in a bigger font size. It’s time they did that. They settled for tea though. “Could you add some honey to that?” the man asked. “Yes, he likes his honey” said the wife. To which the man looked at her and went “I like my honey alright” And the wife rolled her eyes and he chuckled. So cute. The stuff they can get away with at that age!! The barista waited patiently for this mild flirtation to subside before she directed them to the sugar and honey. They shuffled off, both of them still smiling. The barista then saw me looking at her and smiled. The hubby who was till then glaring at my unabashed staring smiled too.

Meanwhile pleasant guy with paperback in hip pocket and cheery long-haired girl had moved on to exclaims on discovering how close they actually lived to each-other and all. She laughed, showing shiny teeth, and tossed the shiny hair. He grinned. They were all fresh and available and so very good at the whole song and dance of coquetry, I could see. Yes, I was doing a lot of seeing. I am told I can be very rude at times with all my staring. But I just can’t help it. I continued to watch with impervious fascination and wondered how this was going to end.

The elderly couple were leaving the café. The old gentleman suddenly stopped and addressed pleasant-guy-with-paperback. To my astonishment he was pointing at me. “The nice lady is wondering when you’ll ask for the chick’s number” he said. I jumped, startled, shaking my head apologetically at the pleasant guy. “No,no...sorry”. Paperback laughed. Cheery girl blushed. Old man laughed at my red face. “It’s OK. We were watching too. He needs to get her number if he ever wants to have what you two have got!” he said. I laughed, embarrassed. We know we look like the much-married pair we are. The limited, need-based conversation and laid-back comfort, a sure giveaway, any day. “I hope we get to have what you two have got someday” I said softly to the elderly couple before burying my head in my paper and promising myself I’ll work on the staring problem. I looked up when I felt calm enough and the laughter had subsided, the hubby’s told-you-so-look had to be dealt with anyway, at some point. Better get it over with in a public place! He looked reasonably amused though. But the next time I will be kicked in the shin below the table. I have it coming, I know.