Thomas was a mess.  He ran in.  He ran out.  He would courageously burst through the doors, see his young wife laying there writhing in glorious agony, and retreat to the halls.  It was time to take control.  It was his time to cast aside all of his doubt and fears.  It was time.

To this day, Addy does not remember much.  It is fragments of a story lost in her memory.  She remembers Thomas grabbing her hand and whispering in her ear.  She remembers the doctor’s face as he begged her to push.  She remembers the heat and the cool ice that Thomas placed on her lips. Other than that it’s all a blur.

To this day, Thomas has not forgotten a single detail.  He remembers his fears.  He remembers the words his father gave to him as they waited on the doctors to arrive.  He remembers going in every room at that hospital trying to find ice that would relieve his bride’s exhaustion and thirst. But most of all, Thomas remembers his Addy.

If you ask Addy, she’ll tell you that Thomas was her hero that night.  But if you ask Thomas about that night, he’ll tell you about Addy and how she was enchanting.

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Picture it. A man wake’s up after a long night of fighting with his girlfriend. He lays there, on the couch, at her apartment for a few minutes trying to put together all the things that were said. The man finally comes to the conclusion, “She’s crazy.” He knew that her throat must be sore from all the screaming that she had done the night before. His throat is fine. He had kept his composure. He never even raised his voice. How long was he going to put up with her tourette-like antics?

No more.

He sits up on the couch. Looks at his watch. Six thirty. She’s never been up this early before. He yawns and stands up scratching his head. He grabs his cardigan and makes for the door. As he walks through the kitchen he grabs a snack for the road. It will be his last time in that kitchen and at that house. He can take whatever he wishes, he has decided to burn the bridge.

As he drives down the road to his house, he pulls out his phone. He feels the need to tell her what he’s done. So he sends her a text message.

Her phone vibrates and makes the most annoying alert as she receives his text message. She opens one eye and looks at her phone. A text message, from him? She thought he was downstairs. She takes her phone and moves down the stairs.

The couch where he was the night before is vacant. She makes her way to the kitchen and sits down at the table. Her phone vibrates again.

She is confused. She looks around the empty house and her anger from the night before begins to return to her. There is only one thing that can make her day a little brighter. Her phone vibrates a third time.

She flips it open and begins to read his first message as she opens the freezer door.

“I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox”

Her freezer is empty. Oh she’s mad, but her graciousness says, “well, maybe he didn’t know I was going to have those for breakfast.”

She opens his second message:

“and which you were probably saving for breakfast”

She furiously opens the third:

“Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold.”

Before she can flip her phone closed, she knows this is the end.

He rolls his window down. As the warm spring air touches his face, he reaches over and takes the last plum and puts in in his mouth. He can’t help but smile as he slurps the juices that overflow out of his mouth.

She felt the same.

Addy was on her bed staring at that useless piece of plastic.  She laid with her arms crossed and her head resting eye-level determined to make that plastic do it’s job.

Thomas grabbed the paper, balled it up, and walked off to his room as if he would be able to forget about it.  The paper would sit alone long enough for Thomas to leave the room, but that was all.  Thomas would sigh and return to his previous position by the table.

Addy got off her bed and walked into the bathroom.  Maybe a hot shower would clear her mind.  She walked into the bathroom and started the water only to run back into the room like she had heard an intruder.  She was still alone.

Thomas was getting angry.  Why was this his master?  Why was this getting the best of him?  He was a man, right? Nothing could stop him.  This was his domain.  This was his jungle and he was the king…or not.  Those seven numbers had him under arrest.

Addy finally made it to the shower.  She tried singing, she tried singing louder, she tried screaming.  It was all in vain.  Then she heard it.  She jumped out of the shower and ran to her bed.  False alarm.  Addy hurled the plastic back onto her bed and returned to her shower.

Now, Thomas was pacing.  He stomped around his loft never breaking eye-contact with that paper.  He sat on the couch, moved to the kitchen, up the stairs over the balcony, and to his patio.  Finally, enraged, he reached in his back pocket for his phone and snatched the paper from the table.

The hot water was finally working.  Addy’s mind had moved on.  She thought about work and magazines and fashion.  Maybe tomorrow she would go to the malls.  A new outfit was surely in order.  “Wait”, her thoughts were interrupted.  “What was that?” she thought to herself.  She leapt from the shower and ran to her bed.  She grabbed her phone and thrusted to her cheek. 

“Hello?” Addy said…

“Hey, Addy?” Thomas’ voice was warm on the other side…this was not a false alarm.

She was sitting at a table reading a collection of Emily Dickinson and fingering the lip of her half empty coffee mug.  One hand held her head as she leaned over the table shrouding herself from the clanging of dishes and her monotonous reality.

He knew her.  He had known her for quite awhile.  This was it.  This was fate.  The universe had made this engagement.  There was a civil war in his head; did he have the courage?  He grabbed the door and felt the warm espresso-dank air across his face.  This was it.

“Heart we will forget him,

You and I, tonight!

You may forget the warmth he gave,

I will forget the light.”

Emily’s words were therapeutic. Her words healed.  The last line came to soon and the woman paused to take a breath.  She lifted the cold mug to her lips as her hopes for love began to fade–

“Excuse me…”, said the man. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

The woman looked around hoping to find another table she could escort him to that was away from her.

“I’m sorry, all the other tables are full and I just need a place where I could study,” the man continued.

She looked at him and he smiled.  Comfort.  He slid the chair back and sat down.

“My name is Thomas.”

“I’m Addy.”

“Well Addy, it is a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for letting me sit with you.”

She didn’t know him.  She had never known him, but as he opened his books and began to read she looked around in disbelief and smiled to herself because she knew that this was what she had been waiting for.

However, as I was walking around I noticed a man staring at me. When I saw it, I turned and hid behind some book shelves acting as if I didn’t see him.  As I peeked my eyes around the corner of the book shelf, there he was STARING ME DOWN.  I tried to act cool and be like, “how do you do?” and he just responded with a tip of the hat.  Trying to brush off this very strange exchange, I went to the kids section.  Ah, home.  I picked up some kids books and was flipping through then over the top of my book, THERE HE WAS! He was across the store a good ways but he was STARING AT ME!  I mean, I recognize that I am a fine looking man, but either make a pass or keep your eyes to yourself.

For me, when people are staring at me for no reason it drives me crazy.  What drives you crazy?

The man in front of me had a case of beer and had obviously been drinking.  He handed the register worker a few lottery tickets and said, “These ought to get me about $1000″.  And I was like ‘wow, nice payout.’  The man behind the counter walked over to the lottery machine and punched in the codes waiting on the money.  All of a sudden the worker walked back over to the counter and says, “Nah, these cards have already been cashed out.”

The man with the beer was astonished.  He said, in disgust, “Don’t tell me I got shit on.”

Unsure of what he meant, I took a step back.  The worker said, “Yeah someone has already cashed these out.”

The man with the beer repeated, “Don’t tell me I got shit on”

I took another step back as the man said, “You mean to tell me I paid a guy $500 for these cards expecting to get $1000 in return and he had already cashed them out? I can’t believe I got shit on.”

The man left his beer sitting at the counter as he stomped out of the gas station leaving me and the worker laughing at him, the situation, and his unique choice of vocabulary.