A Bright House

Unlike the dream of earlier that morning, Jenny found Monday’s business surprisingly slow. The hardcore regulars could be counted on; they were usually elderly folk who wouldn’t be bothered with preparing a full breakfast, and they were lonely in their little apartments. An hour at the Logan Grill would sustain their need to interact and partake of life’s social fabric until they returned to their televisions and vicarious partaking. Viv had her favorite table at the back of the room and would not sit anywhere else. This was common knowledge and as such, her place was unofficially reserved. Viv always arrived precisely when the front door was unlocked. She complained about the landlord in her high rise, ordered a western sandwich on brown with triple sugar double cream coffee, then complained about the teenagers loitering in the lobby where she lived. Viv was sweet and harmless; Jenny was quite fond of the old gal and it didn’t bother her that Viv never tipped.

Bud was another old faithful. He arrived five mornings of the work week, though he had long ago retired, at seven thirty for his favorite stool at the south end of the counter. Old Bud was fond of his western omelettes with home fries and whole wheat toast. He drank his coffee black and he liked the cup in runneth over mode. His voice was a guttural rasp from decades of chain-smoking : “keep it comin’, love” he would instruct Jenny until the last morsel of ketchup drenched omelette went down the hatch. Her cue to stop refilling and bring his bill. Bud was sweet on Jenny from day one, when he stammered his order and later made it a point to show her a picture from his wallet that depicted a handsome thirty year old in uniform. He had served his country with great distinction on the battlefields of Europe. Jenny was sweet on Bud, too, in a compassionate way. He was always a gentleman and took pains to tell her how pretty she looked during every shift. He would laugh and twinkle a glance at her - “I’ll tell ya, Jenny, if I could do it all over again I’d want a woman like you.”

His gentle crush on her, and the sincerity of feeling in that oft repeated statement, always made Jenny feel sad. Quietly sad. She would think of timing and chemistry between people; how the importance of those elements didn’t always align. She could have loved a man like Bud had they met without the gulf of years between them. When Monday’s shift began to flow around the old 1920s wall clock, she felt Ray approaching. It had been Bud in her dream, asking who the lucky fella was. A few of the other regulars came and went with a minimum of conversation. Even Viv and Bud seemed to be low energy. It was a pleasant sunny morning but Jenny sensed an atmosphere of sluggish ennui all around the room, and attributed that to her lingering dream residue. As time passed and the hardcore regulars went back to their homes, Jenny found her vision constantly wandering to the front window and door, then to Logan street where the astral horror movie had dashed her spirits. Not a blue van in sight. She was hoping to catch a glimpse of Ray as he parked and then strolled to the diner, thinking it would give her precious moments of self-composure, but realized suddenly that she was nowhere near anxious.

In the minutes before Ray stepped through the door, it seemed to Jenny with hindsight that the nightmare had been a form of drastic balance reset. She had been no doubt working herself up on subconscious levels for his visit. She had also, quite consciously, decided that should he actually be interested in a relationship beyond the platonic...

On cue he appeared with a jingle of a bell attached to Logan Diner’s door handle.

She was wiping down a table near the back of the room when Ray stepped inside, catching a half dozen glances from diners. Jenny stood up, a damp cloth hanging limp, and stared openly at him before he found her there with that amazing crinkly eyed smile. That big smile was the metaphoric furnace coming back on after a power outage in January. It instantly shot warmth throughout her memories of his face, which had been wavering during the previous week between ultra vivid and maddeningly diffused. It was a smile that reaffirmed the wordless between them as he wore it for the entirety of his easy steps to the place where she stood. Easy on his feet. The outward calm of his features belying all that he had been through since Friday. Jenny stood rooted but felt her own smile blossom, and suddenly wanted to launch herself into his arms with total abandon, relief, glee. She could see it on his beautiful face; he was as happy to see her as she was, him.

“Heyyy” he spoke through the smile, steps away and opening his arms to her.

It took every ounce of self control she had, not to step completely into him and bury her face into his chest, wrap him up in a bear hug that would have the customers dropping their forks in shock over the suddenly demonstrative passionate Jenny. But no, she maintained a modicum of composure and accepted Ray’s hug with a polite one of her own, looking into his expressive eyes with a “so great to see you again this soon...“, then stepping back to indicate empty tables with a wave of her free hand. “Anywhere you like, Ray.”

“I don’t have as much time as I’d like to have” he said, choosing the table nearest to them, pulling out a chair to sit. Jenny nodded, wanting to say “I know what you mean”. She briefly touched his left shoulder, a light involuntary resting on of fingertips that seemed timelessly familiar between them. He flashed to the young woman beside him during the flight and noted the vast difference between an unwanted touch and one that somehow feels like home. “Do you know what you want?” she asked with a nod at a large chalkboard mounted beside the kitchen pick-up window. He met her gaze, looked at the menu items, chuckled... “You’re setting me up for a flirtatious answer, but I’m good with bacon and eggs over easy, brown toast, tomato juice, coffee...” (the words “over easy” unspooled a few psychic frames from the case files; Goderich... Roy “Over Easy” and the suddenly appearing-disappearing stranger)

When Jenny placed the order, poured Ray’s coffee and returned to the table, he had removed his suede jacket. She looked him over during her approach, felt something stir that was immediately and powerfully déjà vu. He looked into her eyes with another of his uniquely radiant grins, asked how she had been. It was going to take some getting used to, those piercing greys that seemed to reveal and conceal in equal measure. She placed the cup and saucer before him and spoke quietly, seriously. “I was doing fine until this morning when I had a nasty dream about something happening to you.” He looked up with a little cream container frozen in mid-grip. “Just do me a favor and be extra careful of the drivers out there when you leave, okay? And drive carefully...”

Ray nodded slowly, opened the cream to pour it. “What did you dream?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the coffee. Jenny wanted to sit with him but had customers to attend to. She wished for this to be next weekend already. In an even quieter voice she stated the essential details : “You were crossing the street, looking at me through the glass, and a blue panel van ran you down.” He tilted a sugar container with one hand, stirred with his left. “Wow. That pretty much sucks.” Another of his like-the-sun eye crinkle grins. Jenny kept looking down at him with a sad-serious expression that he found inordinately attractive within the same nanosecond synaptic knowledge that he had definitely crossed a threshold into feeling an open sweetness for this woman. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Not funny, I know. I’ll be very careful.”

She nodded. The bell for an order to be picked up sounded from behind her. A potent up-swelling of disappointment had begun from the moment Ray mentioned not having much time, and so Jenny breathed deeply to contain it. He had spoken about coming back to Toronto, possibly staying for that weekend, but they hadn’t confirmed it. She would have to speak it, hear it, know that it was happening before he left. With another customer’s breakfast in hand, she stole a glance at Ray as he sipped his coffee, eyes to the front window. Two weeks ago I didn’t know you, and now I seem to care too much.

She couldn’t sense it just then, but both her and Ray were sharing a very strong emotion. A feeling far bigger than the two of them, one of magnetism and need, impelled through lonely years. Townes had never been in love, Jenny had, once. Townes had not known the physical love of a woman, and Jenny had loved only one man. Ray hadn’t placed an undue emphasis on living as though each mortal year wasted on being alone would amount to a sin upon judgment day. Jenny had placed her very survival around the idea that she would not risk her heart ever again.

In a room where working class people find ritual and comfort food, those present for the Monday morning of Ray and Jenny’s shared emotional resonance were blithely unaware. One wise elderly gentleman dipped a corner of toast into egg yolk at the instant that Jenny wanted to pull up a chair across from Ray to ask “are you coming to stay next weekend?” Ten feet across the room, a tired young man who had worked the night shift as a security guard chewed his last piece of sausage, just when a clairvoyant two tables behind him wanted to tell Jenny “It would be great if I could bring you with me on this trip.” Thoughts being every bit as tangible and “real” as any diner stool or chipped coffee mug, in another form of viewing and with alternate methods to perceive with, the combined energy of one waitress and one psychic created an exquisite tapestry of mutual want, tenderness, gentle intent.

Yes, they were comfortable with each other in a capacity that seemed at odds with how strangers normally are during the initial intercourse of their energies. Yes, this was true and evident to both of them during the weekend they had shared before. The intervening days between then and now had split their paths. Ray and a floorboard secret of life altering dimensions. Jenny inside a gauntlet of introspection. Within the hours of a week that both united and divided their convergent future, these two had been distracted away from the un-language truth of how they were so easy together. How they knew each other already. So why the hesitation? Why don’t I just ask... invite him to stay next weekend? Get it spoken, get my answer and peace of mind either way.

When she brought Ray his order, he thanked her and asked “would you be able to walk me to the car when I leave? Make sure I don’t get hit by a blue van...” She smiled in silent thanks, told him she would tell her boss in advance, then said “enjoy your breakfast, sir” before stepping towards the kitchen area feeling much lighter. Just like that. Thank you, Ray.

It took Townes all of fifteen minutes to eat his breakfast, during which time three customers of six departed. Jenny quietly asked her boss if it would be okay to take five minutes to see her friend to his car. “Sure, no problem sweetie” he answered, deadpan. If he suspected anything between his treasured employee and the visiting hippie customer, it wasn’t showing. Ray drained his coffee cup, pushed the plate away, stood to shrug into his jacket, and raised a palm-out hand to Jenny across the room ”one moment" before turning to use the washroom. She nodded, then watched him head for the hallway. Her boss heard her heavy sigh as it escaped, and kept his mouth shut.

Perhaps two hundred and fifty seconds later, Jenny entered into a segment of her life that would replay countless times over the balance of her years. Not only would the memory act as a precious foundation and impetus, but it would return time and time again as the most vividly re-lived moment of her deepest most protected vulnerable place. Ray re-entered the main room and winked at her when she turned to face him from her spot near the cash register, where she had been standing inside the nightmare. He approached the front counter to hold out a ten dollar bill. She looked from his lit up eyes to the runic inked fingers and accepted the money. “No change required” he said, then “ready to walk me?” Jenny smiled with a silent nod, opened the register drawer, took care of the transaction, then followed Ray to the door. Her eyes moved beyond him into Logan street as they stepped out into the sunshine. He stood tall beside her during the traffic light’s red blink, looked at her profile and past it to the southern horizon of Logan’s two lanes. “See any blue vans?”

“No I don’t,” she spoke, “and I’m glad about that.”

She acted then purely from a freedom that used to flourish within the young woman once upon a time when she had Scott and an entire future ahead of her. She took hold of Ray’s right hand after speaking and as the light changed to green. Nice symbolism, she thought through the rush of relief when his fingers entwined with hers in a beautiful instant warmth. That was the moment when every building and vehicle melted away into insignificance. She entered a bubble. Their fingers sparked in a mutual chemistry as they crossed Logan street, once again living in a mind-place that needs no vowel nor syllable to prove the exquisite truth of its power. His rental car was parked a half block east. She wanted that stroll to flow like molasses. This wasn’t about her need, or her wishes for something to happen between them when he returned from the northwest. This was alive and vibrant in its own moment, the overriding emotion being one of relief and certainty. The certainty that she was going to find her footing again. Reclaim the years that had seemed surrendered.

Jenny swore to herself, later that evening and for many nighttime hours to follow, that Ray was mirroring those feelings identically. She could feel the emotive everything in his fingers as they approached the car. Once there, he let go of her hand to lean against the driver’s - side door.

She stood a foot away in silence, probably radiant with all that she felt, and watched him tuck the tops of his hands into front pockets that had seen many wash cycles. The metallic wheels of a passing trolley car interrupted the first word that both of them began to utter before they broke into grins over the precise timing of it. He closed his eyes for a few seconds until the squealing tones diminished, then said “You go ahead” through smiling lips.

“You mentioned coming back and staying next weekend.” Ray nodded assent, his eyes impossibly grey and blue at once. “I would love it if you accepted my invitation to stay at my place.” She had allowed her words to issue forth unedited and heart pure. Ray’s answer was to reach for both of her hands. He gently grasped them with thumbs and forefingers, the former on top and latter in each palm’s center. His eyes softened so quickly, so completely that she thought he might shed tears, which created her own feeling of losing control. “I should be back for early Friday evening” he said. “I would love nothing more, Jenny.”

There are kisses that are written for the ages. They play across cinematic screens, and sometimes transcendently so as in the montage of “Cinema Paradiso”. They make the cover of Time magazine, poignantly summarizing the heartache of war and goodbyes, or the earthly heaven of a wished for return to home. There are kisses strewn throughout the history of literature, theatre, songwriting, framed and hung in galleries to speak for the hearts who have known or never tasted thereof. There are kisses that take place on subway platforms, urgent fire intended, that tear the hearts from lonely souls who witness them. There are kisses that make promises. Kisses that are born impulsive and explosively passionate that cannot sustain all that is awry with the reasons for them. Tragic love kisses. Unfaithful alive in the flesh kisses. Kisses between young lovers who will not settle into who they truly are as individuals for many years to come, that live within a fleeting certainty which will one day be viewed as an illusion. Kisses that share a long history between partners, infused with tenderness and gratitude in a world so often hard and unforgiving.

Of all the possible kisses, a first kiss stands alone in the rarified air of emotion and recall. A first kiss in a lifetime, yes, but more importantly a kiss between two about to engage in a greatest love. The consummation kiss. The one that we cry for, cry over, write songs about. Ray and Jenny could have held all of the tender vulnerable feelings for each other then, already, only to share a kiss that failed to live up to those two hearts. Jenny had experienced only two first kisses. One had been entirely unsolicited, evil, hellacious. The next had been with her husband who loved her as she had always wished to be loved, with unwavering tenderness. What happened with Ray, surrounded by the clatter of traffic and urban noise, pushed everything but their moment aside. Jenny had stepped slightly into the small space between them, at the touch of his fingers to her hands. His eyes had softened and in them she saw herself reflected, and the sweetness of his soul.

That bubble that she had stepped into seemed to widen around Ray. The city vanished and he bent forward with his eyes locked on hers. They touched their noses together at first, just breathing the unison of shared intention, and then Ray very gently met her lips with his own. She opened her mouth so slightly, enough for him to hold her bottom lip between his two, and he very gently used the tip of his tongue to touch and slide across, then back. In all of its swoon, their kiss contained every hint that had been tantalizing her since they had taken the ferry to Toronto’s islands. I know this. A first kiss that is a memory.

It may have lasted ten seconds. They may have lived every past life kiss of their journeying souls within that span. They may have been unable to keep their eyes open and locked due to the beauty of all that they felt, but it was a first kiss for the ages. With every right reason to exist, it took its place within the pantheon of great romantic kisses. No swelling orchestral score. Without a horizon and sky filling sunset. Not upon the lips of famous faces. Two middle-aged people leaning against an unspectacular rental Buick on a rather tired looking city street. Two who mutually agreed upon something unsayable and reassuringly achingly beautiful for who they were and where they might go, together. Ray and Jenny ended their kiss and reaccepted the reality of where they stood and what time it was on a day named Monday. She stared up at him and he wanted to tell her how radiant she looked then, but kept the words for himself. He could feel it; that his eyes were most eloquent.

“Wow” she said, verging on a whisper. He thought, that word is popular today.

“Indeed.” Ray let go of Jenny’s hands, glanced at his watch and sighed. “I have to get rolling now... you have my cell phone number. I’ll call you tonight from wherever I end up staying, to let you know I have arrived safely, okay?”

“Okay.”

She stepped aside to let him unlock and open the door. Before he climbed in, Ray looked past Jenny to a pair of pigeons that had been snuggled together atop the metal awning of an old hardware store long out of business. What an amazing universe. “I’ll speak with you tonight, then, and look very forward to next weekend.” Jenny nodded at his words and as he bent to enter the Skylark, said “Please drive carefully?” Ray nodded and smiled, his lips still very much alive on her own, then closed the door to start the car.

Jenny watched him give her a little thumbs up and wink, then he pulled into the westbound lanes that would take him on his journey. It was only then, once he had faded from sight, that she turned to glance at the two cuddling pigeons behind and above her. She gently ran her tongue across the bottom lip where it tingled deliciously.

“Wow.”