He opened the carved wooden door for me and then, without a pause retook my hand in his. He seemed to want to be closer to me, as close as he could get. I can't help being so flattered, and my eyes become a bit teary, it almost hurts to be this happy. We weaved through the crowded table and found one in a small, gentley lighted corner. The stools were painted an off white, and the table was a natural wood colour, with a single violet in a small vase placed in the middle. There was a poetry reading going on in the front of the cafe, but from where we were, it was only a soft murmur.
Our waitress dropped her last load off at the table in front of us and presented herself to us. "G' evenin' to ya, here's the special's for this 'evenin', I'll be back around in a minute to take a list of what ya want." She quickly turned, then almost stopped, then turned toward me. "Wait, are you Lane Bronte?"
I smiled, "Yup, that be me."
She gasped and her eyes widened, "I am such a big lover of your writing!"
I opened my arms and she hugged me tightly. "Thank you, that means a lot to me."
"A friend of mine got me into your stuff by making me read 'Siren' after having a really bad breakup, and now it's, just like..." the girl drifted off, and she just opened her arms and I gave her another hug. I felt a tear run down the back of my shoulder.
"Hey, it's okay. You just have to go on with your life, you just have to make yourself walk away. Mac was a tough one, but you have to keep going babe. Other people can, and will touch you the same way your ex did." I kissed her on her cheek and introduced her to Taylor. "This is a bud of mine, Taylor."
Her eyes drifted to him, and she looked at me and smiled. "You lucky bean, is he going to stay with you?" It was kind of a way of asking whether we were serious or not, but she was nervous to ask in front of him.
"Yes, I am lucky." I smiled back at her. And she knew.
"Can you read something for me tonight? Please? I can get the idiot on stage off, most people really like you here."
"I dunno, uh, I was just at the hospital, and my wits aren't totally around me yet." At this point Taylor decided to interject something into our conversation.
"She was just out in a coma, I don't think it'd be such a hot idea." I was surprised that he said that, I expected him to let me take care of it.
"Please." Our waitress simply put it.
"Well, hm, okay.. I dont' have my laptop on me, but before we go I'll say something. I promise." She seemed relieved and gave me a kiss goodbye.
Taylor looked at me with amazement. "You don't know her?"
"Nope."
"Who's Mac?" I didn't want to talk about him, but now I couldn't go back.
"He's my ex boyfriend, we were together for four years. I wrote a collection of poems about our life together, and that was kind of my break into the mainstream. I'm on a book signing/reading tour right now to promote it." I looked Taylor in the eye as I spoke. He looked right back in to my own, with out flinching he asked
"How close were you?"
"Very."
"Excuse me for a second."
I just stared at the violet on our circular table, and felt a sense of absolute dread. He didn't take it that well. I could see it in his eyes, he wanted me to be his first serious relationship, he had no clue what he was doing with me. My eyes wandered around the large cafe, a couple people waved, recognizing me, and I smiled and waved right back. At least they were feeling good. A napkin had been left on the table, I started to twirl it around on the smooth surface of the table face, and scanned the floor. There was a small blue crayon on the table next to ours, it's label was gone, as well as the last half of it, but still looked usable. I slid from my seat and grabbed it, hoping not to attract any attention. I thought of Taylor in the bathroom, probably in a stall, staring at the floor, realizing that I wasn't as perfect as he had thought. Trying to imagine what Mac looked like, and what we had done. I looked at his empty seat. I need him. I started scawling letters onto the forgotten napkin, and everything around me seemed to disapear, as it usually does when I write. I knew what I was going to read to this crowd.