, 6 min read
Short Story Reading written by Myra
I was sitting at my favorite coffee shop, trying and failing to be productive. I had just gotten off the phone with my sister, and I wanted to write a short story, but nothing was coming out on the page. The day, until that point, had been a struggle. I was supposed to meet a friend at this coffee shop, but he canceled on me at the last minute. The atmosphere was loud; the sounds of drinks being made and the chatter of new and old friends gathered around cramped tables filled the space. The baristas rushed back and forth, calling out the names of the lucky customers whose drinks were ready. I liked this sound. It was noise, but a pleasant noise, a hum that meshed seamlessly with the beat of the background music. And I liked being around other people. The sound distracted me from my day, distracted me from how I was feeling — so much so that I forgot all about how, when I woke this morning, I immediately felt a sadness wash over me, a sadness that had landed on me, roosted and made a nest on me every single morning, and stuck with me through each day.
It wasn't enough to make me cry or even to be overtaken by the sadness, but just enough that I could feel the weight of it, no matter what I was doing. I could feel its constant little pecks. The AC blasted on above me, and a chill went through me. The sensation of frigid air touching my skin was enough to snap me out of my thoughts and bring me back to reality. I reached for my sweater and wrapped it around me. As I began to get more in tune with my body, I realized I needed the bathroom. I stood up, grabbed my important belongings, but left a few things to save my spot at the table. I walked out the back door to the alleyway that led to the public restrooms that a few businesses shared, and when I rounded the corner of the secluded pathway, I jerked at the sight of what I was confronted with. I stared at a man who was facing away from me, hunched over in an unnatural position, as if in excruciating pain, his left arm bracing against the wall, his right hand cradling his face. And what struck me most of all, and immediately, was the sound of his pain-ridden, choked sobs. It was the sound of a man crying uninhibitedly, the way a man would cry when he knew he was alone.
I was so disturbed and shaken by the sight and sound that I simply froze in shock. I'd never witnessed a full-grown man cry before. It almost felt surreal. It was only a few seconds, but felt longer. Finally, as my thoughts began to gather, and the most prevalent was,
"Turn around, leave now,"
The man sensed my presence and turned to face me. We locked eyes — mine wide with shock and fear, knowing I had caught him in his most vulnerable moment, his red, pain-ridden, and tired. His face looked so tired from the pain that he didn't seem to have any energy left to react to the situation. He looked so broken, more broken than I had ever seen another human being, and it shook me to the core. But my response to fear is to freeze, so there I was, frozen. I managed to say,
"I'm sorry, I was just trying to find the bathroom."
"It's okay,"
he said gently, his voice sounding exhausted and hoarse from crying. Slowly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cement with his knees up at his chest, his back against the wall. He looked down at his hands, ignoring me again, his expression numb, tears still silently streaming down his cheeks and wetting the stubble on his face.
I felt his body stiffen, and for the first time, I felt the reality of his physical strength. He pulled away from me and seemed to be mentally composing himself. The numbness slowly being replaced by embarrassment for the situation. I could see the switch happening in his head. He was beginning to become the man he had been his entire life. I could tell he didn't need or want my presence anymore but was too polite to tell me to leave.
I stiffly got to my feet.
"You're going to be okay?"
I asked. We locked eyes for only the second time in the entire encounter. His vulnerability was gone. He just nodded. It was enough to communicate everything he needed to say. He was not defeated; he would rebuild. He would again be the man that he had always been. As more moments passed, I could see him slowly piecing together the facade that he was so familiar with, his real, vulnerable self being cemented over by the strong, hard exterior. Now I saw a man whom you would see in a three-piece suit, briefcase in hand, striding down a New York City sidewalk. I turned and began to walk away slowly. I half expected him to say something, to stop me, maybe thank me, but I left in silence.
That encounter stuck with me for many months. I thought about him, wondering where he was now, if he was okay, wondering if I did the right thing. I wanted to know what had happened that day to break him. I knew it must have been something big, big enough to break such a strong, well put-together grown man. I kept going to the coffee shop, and each time, a part of me wondered if I would see him there. I imagined him walking in with a wife or a family or an old friend, and I'd get more of an idea of who he was and what could have happened that day, and I would know that things were okay now. But each time I went, I never saw him.
Six months later, on an early gray morning, I was sitting in my favorite spot at my favorite coffee shop, lost in a short story I was writing on my laptop. It had been another particularly bad morning for me, but I felt comforted by the hum of the customers talking, baristas making drinks and occasionally yelling out the names of the customers whose drinks were ready, all meshed together with the beat of the background music. The door opened, and I glanced up. In strode a man in a black three-piece suit. It was him. He moved briskly and smoothly towards the front in order to order a drink, and as he waited, he pulled out his phone and seemed to get into a business discussion with the person on the other side of the call. His tone was confident, stern, controlled, and charismatic. He had the power; he had the upper hand in any interaction with other people. As I watched him, I tried to figure out if he looked happy, if he was doing better, but I could see nothing. All I saw was a calculated and well-maintained, intimidating exterior. His name was called, but I didn't hear what it was. He grabbed his coffee and turned to walk out the door, seemingly in a rush, still in a debate on the phone. As he glided past me, his eyes glanced at me. Recognition swept over his face, mixed with surprise. An understanding was shared between us, and we both smiled small smiles. Then he walked out the door and was gone.
End of story.
Well, I don't know if you enjoyed that. I hope you did. Also, is this cutting off?
This is going to be the first time that I've ever read one of my short stories out loud. I’m actually not scared yet, but I'm going to be very scared when I post this, so I may even disable comments. Thank you for listening. If nothing else, you can maybe fall asleep.