Clare and Johnny III

He is very thoughtful, almost too thoughtful. Everything is measured. He's the kind of person you'd want to take by the shoulders and give a good shake.  Well telling him to live a little.  

As we walk past coffee shops I wait for him to pick one.  We pass several and come nearly to the end of the shops.  

"Did anything stand out?  What do you think?"

He says it timidly as if questioning himself.  

"Johnny is this a date?"

His eyes widen at this remark.  He has a warm face that sometimes come to light with a trusting smile.

"A date... a... I didn't."

I can't let him finish.

"Of course it's a date. You're taking me for coffee, so take me Johnny. Pick something. Don't mess around asking me questions about where you'll take me, just take me."

I can tell this rattles him, but sometimes you need to take them by surprise. You need to skip a few phases when time is short.

"Well if that's what you would like."

"That's what every woman would like Johnny."

His words trail off and I decide that I like him very much.  There is an innocence to him, an unpretentiousness.

"How about Starbucks?"

"Ah I hate Starbucks."

He screws his face up at this.

"Well that's where I'm taking ya, so don't complain.

He starts walking towards the shop and I notice a bit of stubbornness as well.  

We're sitting now in two armchairs in the airport Starbucks.  People buzz by us hurrying to planes and gates and duty free shops.  I look across at Johnny and wonder who he is and if he can guess any of the reason I've chosen to talk to him.

"How long till your plane?"

He looks down at his watch.

"About an hour"

He says it matter-of-factly.  Making it a clear statement.  He almost seems hurried.

"Well excuse me, if you need to go I'm not stopping you."

He stares over quizzically as if trying to puzzle me out.

"Clare, what do you want?"

"You know what maybe I just want to chat for twenty minutes. Really chat, not regular date chat about all the trivial, unimportant things that take up most of the conversation but really don't matter at all."

He holds up his hands to this.

"Talk about pressure."

He says this in a wry, sarcastic way, a smile working its way onto his lips.

"Maybe life is precious and each word that we speak is actually important, so maybe we should try to avoid the unimportant.  Maybe it's our duty, here in this coffee shop to have a real conversation.  About who we are, and want we want, and why we want it."

This all just flows out of me. As sometimes happens. I feel stupid after letting it all slip out.  It's sounds sentimental and romantic and I feel sure that these will be lost on him.

He sits blinking and staring into my eyes, as if trying to decide what to say.

"Okay Clare."

He pauses and shakes his head slowly but his smile doesn't leave.

"What, if I dare ask, would you like to talk about?"

As he speaks the words his eyes are laughing at me? With me? I'm not sure but as he finishes another voice blinks into existence all around.  It speaks with the emotionless metallic voice of an intercom, which blends together with all the sounds of the airport until suddenly I can see something click and his face changes, the smile fleeing away.  The same straight expression returns.

"Clare my plane is boarding.  We'll have to save that conversation for another time."

"Airports are such funny places aren't they?"

"Clare my plane is boarding"

"All the commotion, all the people from different places going different places."

He stands up with an ugly frown adorning his face.  

"Do you really have to be so rude?"

He looks embarrassed and almost helpless now.

"I've got to catch my plane."

It's like he's apologising with his face as he says it.

"You know.  I talked to you because you looked so sad sitting there staring out the window."

He's backing slowly away, disengaging.  I can see he's one of those who would arrive at his gate five minutes before boarding and this lateness is making him visibly uncomfortable, this break from regular airport procedure.

I see an airport cart idling just outside the shop, the driver must have needed to use the loo, the keys jingle temptingly.

As with most things I don't think.