Tomorrow's June

by Claudia Caget

  "Oh, that is so nice! What can I get you?" I served them and they went and sat in the corner. Their presence didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Really, I was surprised that after the first awkwardness, I couldn’t care less. I went in the back to check on the bathrooms, and when I came out of the women's room, Ian was standing there. He blocked my way.

  "Hey." He had that weird chorus song look on his face.

  "Hey," I looked at him, knitting my brows to discourage him. What the fuck did he want?

  "Where are you living now?" He leaned into me, causing me to flatten myself against the bathroom door.

  "Why?"

  "I thought maybe we could go out sometime."

  " I don't think so. What is the matter with you?" My hand fumbled for the doorknob behind me, readying for escape.

  "Oh come on, Mia. I think you still dig me."

  "Dig you? Where did you come from, the ‘70s?"

  Ian ignored my sarcasm, and leaned his face closer to me, acting as if he was going to kiss me. "Come on Mia."

  "No Ian. I don't think so. Why do you want to hurt Amy? And what about Elease?"

  Ian smiled, half to himself and shook his head. “Yeah, that didn’t work out.”

  “No kidding.”

  Ian moved closer to me. “Come on Mia. We used to have so much fun.”

  “Really? Because I don’t remember it that way. And why are you trying to hurt Amy?” I asked again. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

  I turned my head away, sliding past him to freedom. I stood facing him, unencumbered in the hall, my hands on my hips. I still needed to get by him but at least I wasn’t pressed between him and the door.

  "She's a weird chick. I needed a place to live." Ian turned toward me, walking a step closer.

  What is it with this guy? I stepped back. I couldn’t believe I once dated him.

  "No Ian. What happened to Chicago? Or was that a lie?"

  "I decided not to go, that's all." He stepped toward me again, causing me to put up my hand to stop him.

  "Bullshit. You are a liar.”

  “No, I am not lying. I want to call you sometime.” Ian walked right into my outstretched hand.

  I had enough.

  “No. Do not call me. Get out of my way." I pushed past him and went back into the kitchen. Kurt wasn't around, so I had no one to tell about my encounter. I went out to the counter to see Ian and Amy getting up to leave. I watched them walk out the door, thankful there were no goodbyes.

  I was getting ready to turn to restock the cups when a familiar voice jarred me out of my reverie.

  “Mia.”

  I turned and John Armiss stood at the counter. I hadn’t seen him come in. He always seemed to catch me at my most emotional moments.

  I smiled at him.

  “Hi Professor Armiss. What can I get you?”

  I watched as he stood looking at me for a moment like he was deciding if to say something.

  “I’ll take a half-caf cappuccino.”

  “Okay.” I turned to make him his drink. When I glanced up at him he was still staring at me. A nervous smile spread across my face. I could hear him take a deep breath.

  “I wondered if you had applied for that job at the museum.”

  Of course I didn’t. I wanted to crawl under the counter and hide.

  “I, uh, didn’t. I, um, things were really crazy in my life and it just slipped my mind.” I busied myself with his drink, not letting myself look at the disappointment on his face. What was the matter with me?

  He nodded but didn’t say anything. I rushed to fill the silence.

  “The position is every year, right? I am going to apply next year.” I smiled at him to solidify my intent.

  John stood silently for a moment then spoke.

  “The deadline is June 1 and the position begins September 1 and runs to July 1.”

  I nodded as I finished his drink and brought it to him, and then rang him up. As I took his money, he clasped my hand. Shocked, I looked up into his face.

  “I really hope you apply. You were one of my best students.” He was looking into my eyes and suddenly I was embarrassed because I was so unmotivated.

  “I will. I can’t work here forever,” my smile was sheepish as I returned his gaze and his change with my other hand.

  John smiled at me and let go of my hand. “Use me as a reference.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  He nodded in return and I watched him leave the coffee shop.

  What the hell had just happened? I just admitted that I had couldn’t work at the Garden forever. Something I had never allowed myself to think about. I never gave a one thought to my future. I was nearly 27, living at home with a dead end job, no friends, and no boyfriend.

  I stood around at work thinking about the choices I had made, then went home, and locked myself in my bedroom. I wrapped myself up in blankets and indulged in some old fashioned self-pity.

  Chapter 16

  Part of my regular daily activities at home consisted of staring at the wall or, better yet, out the window. I was doing just this on a gray December morning when I noticed an extremely interesting looking young man visiting my neighbor, a divorced woman in her late 50s who lived a few doors down from us. Her children were grown and gone, and I could see her through the windows, wandering around her house, looking shell shocked at the realization that life had knocked the daylights out of her. Actually, she looked like my future.

  The man stayed for about 10 minutes and left. I didn't think another thing about it until I saw him stop by her house at approximately the same time a couple of days later.

  I became concerned about her. Maybe she was an invalid. I asked my mom about it.

  "Who? Rose?"

  "Yea, what's going on with her?"

  "I don't know. Why don't you go ask her?"

  Wow, was my mom helpful! I decided to go over and see what was up. We had been friendly in the past, especially when her kids lived at home. They were a little older than me, but I still talked to them. I especially wanted to visit when her friend was over. Maybe he's a late morning booty call. I wanted to see for myself.

  I told myself that I was just checking up on her, not being a gossip. I hadn't talked to her in a while and I wondered how she was, I reasoned. I didn't want to be nosy.

  The next day, Saturday, I dolled myself up and went over to Rose's about 10 minutes before her visitor was scheduled to arrive. During the week, when I was home and had the chance, I had observed him arriving at about the same time and staying for 10 minutes or less. Who wouldn't be curious?

  I knocked.

  Rose answered the door in what I would call breathless anticipation.

  "Oh hi Mia." Clearly she had thought I was someone else.

  Time had not been kind to Rose King. Her once youthful appearance gave way to sagging jowls and dark under-eye circles. Her skin looked gray. She evidently was sick.

  "Hi Mrs. King. I just wanted to come over and say hello. I am living back at my parents’."

  "Oh Mia, that is nice. I am not feeling well today. Can we visit some other time?"

  "Of course. I will call first." She didn't look well. I left and watched from my bedroom window as Mr. X made his daily call. What was going on? Was she getting regular meals delivered? I always missed Mr. X’s arrival so I never saw if he was carrying anything. My parents were oblivious to the comings and goings of the neighbors’ visitors, so my imagination was left to run wild.

  And it did. The thought preoccupied my mind for the better part of four days. Due to scheduling conflicts, I was unable to arrange it so I was home when he stopped by. Another week had passed and I was thinking about Mr. X over a beer at a cheap dive downtown.

  Due to a long-running conversation we had started at work, Sarah and I decided that we needed to take positive action to affect change in our lives. I was ashamed of my lack of action on the career front and as a modern woman, more or less; I wanted to take charge of my l
ife and future. As much as I could do that in Toledo, I supposed.

  Part of this positive action was to go out and be proactive, a plan Sarah wholeheartedly agreed with. We even had a theme for the evening: "Getting On With Our Lives." The career part of my metamorphosis could wait, I guessed.

  Sarah had just gotten out of her miserable relationship with Mark and since I was no longer attached to anyone, we made a pact at the beginning of the night that we were going to ask one guy out that night, courtesy of our new status as “modern women,” and hopefully fully lubricated from the alcohol.

  Why she picked this bar, I had no idea. It was probably the cheap beer. No one was getting rich working at the Garden.

  Over the course of the evening, she had better luck than I did. There was no one even remotely interesting at this place.

  After a long night of slim pickings, I was getting pretty tired and was waiting for Sarah to close the deal with some biker-looking guy when I saw Mr. X. He was sitting at the far end of the bar, eyes darting around. I was pretty drunk by this point, and I wasn't getting any younger, so I walked right up to him.

  "Hi, I'm Mia."

  He looked at me like I just stole his wallet.

  "I see that you visit my neighbor a lot. Are you with Meals on Wheels?"

  Mr. X's eyes narrowed and he stared at me.

  "Who?"

  Surely he must remember. He was over there every day like clockwork!

  "Mrs. King. Older lady, looks sick."

  "Oh yeah." He looked at me intently. "You're her neighbor?"

  "Yes, I grew up with her kids. I feel bad for her, all alone in that house. No one ever comes to visit, except you, of course."

  "Yea." He looked away like I was bothering him. I was.

  "So are you with Meals on Wheels or what?"

  He looked like he wanted to get up and leave. He must have thought better of it because leaned back on the stool and half-smiled at me.

  "Yes, I'm Miles from Meals on Wheels. Mrs. King is one of my best customers."

  Encouraged, I sat down next to him.

  "Nice to meet you. I'm glad that you are going over there every day. She needs someone."

  "Yes. I love my work."

  I looked over at Sarah, who was gesturing to me to go. I turned back to Miles.

  "Would you like to go out sometime?"

  He must not have had any experience with modern women because he looked shocked. I had no time to spare. I pulled out a pen and a piece of paper (modern women are always prepared), and wrote down my name and phone number. I handed it to him.

  "Hopefully we can get together!" And then I turned and practically ran to meet Sarah and went out the door. I was careful not to look back.

  "I did it! I gave that guy my number!" I practically shouted it in the parking lot as I did a little leap. "How about you? Are you going to go out with that biker?"

  "Yes. I know he isn't the type of guy I normally go out with. In fact, he's a little scary, but damn it, I am sick of uptight office types and young slacker losers." Sarah laughed. "I can't wait to take him home to mother."

  "Well, I would say that we accomplished our goals tonight. We both wanted to meet guys and we did. Even though mine was a bit of cheat. I have seen him at my neighbor's. He works for Meals on Wheels."

  "My guy is on disability for a power saw accident at work. Let's hope he didn't cut off anything important!"

  We laughed all the way home. I couldn't wait to go out with Meals on Wheels Miles.

  I have never given my number to someone to call. I have read articles about how long to wait for someone to call you, blah, blah, blah. But I honestly didn't have any experience in these matters. In the past, pre-Ian, if I liked someone, he usually liked me and we would spend practically every waking hour together almost immediately and there wasn't any waiting around. I wish that I had paid more attention to those articles, but since I didn't, I thought I would wait three days, and then confront him out in Mrs. King's front yard. That should do it. He was going out with me or else.

  I didn't have to wait three days, of course. He knocked on my door two days later after making his delivery to Mrs. King, which I missed again. I was so glad that I was home.

  "Hi Mia. I lost your number." Miles stood on my doorstep. He was incredibly pale and so skinny.

  "That's okay. You know where I live." Despite his pallor, he was pretty handsome in a rough, beat-up sort of way.

  "Would you like to go get coffee or something?"

  "Right now?" I was surprised.

  "Yes."

  "Don't you have to work?

  Miles looked confused. "No."

  "Was Mrs. King your last customer?"

  Miles nodded. "Yeah, for now. People will beep me if they need me. So how 'bout it?"

  "Ok." I made a mental note of what I looked like. "Let me get my coat and shoes on."

  I met Miles outside.

  "I'll drive."

  An alarm went off in my head. I don't like to be without my car. I didn't want to come off like a big baby, so I smashed the warning bell and walked to Miles' Grand Am parked in Mrs. King's driveway.

  "Where to?" Miles asked me as we pulled out of the driveway.

  "Anywhere but the Organic Garden. I work there and am sick of the place."

  "How long have you worked there?"

  "Four years. It blows. How long have you worked for Meals on Wheels? That must be rewarding." I turned to look at him.

  "I did it on and off for about ten years, becoming pretty serious the last three years. It is rewarding. Let's go to a bar, instead." He glanced over at me then back at the road as if driving took all of his concentration.

  "Ok." The thought was not lost on me that if I had a normal job I would be there right now, not riding around in a car with a sort of hot guy on my way to a bar at 10:30 in the morning. It was like Kurt all over again. I felt very rebellious.

  Miles drove to a small little place near downtown.

  "Do you live around here?" I asked him when I got out of the car.

  "Yes, very close." Miles was staring at me.

  "I didn't know bars were open this early, " I lied, trying to act naive, as we walked to the front door.

  "Yes, some open at 5:30 a.m. to accommodate the midnight shift." Miles went in first, holding the door. I took it as a signed he was a somewhat gentleman.

  My eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light. There were a couple of what looked like diehards at the bar, but for the most part, it was empty.

  I sat in a booth while he went up to get a couple of drinks. For a minute I had a Kurt flashback. I spent many a day off in the bar when I was with him. I had a tinge of sadness. I missed him.

  I had to sweep that thought out of my mind as Miles came back with our drinks.

  "Thanks."

  He said nothing but took a sip of his beer.

  "So, do you come here a lot? Is this your neighborhood bar?"

  "You could say that."

  "I used to live off of Monroe Street and there was a bar that I used to go to all the time. Cheap, good atmosphere, no assholes." For some reason, I felt like I had to be street to talk to this guy. I felt a little ridiculous.

  "Yeah, well you get your share in here. Not everyone is cool."

  Huh. Awkward silence.

  "So what made you come over? I was pretty obnoxious the other night." It was a classic Mia move, aggressive and self-deprecating, all at once.

  "I have been working too much. I thought it wouldn't be bad to meet people my own age."

  "That is exactly why I gave you my number. I don't ever do that. Besides, I practically know you since you visit my neighbor and all."

  "Right."

  Whew. This guy was tough. Not chatty one bit. I tried again.

  "Did you go to school in Toledo?"

  "What do you mean, high school?" Miles picked up his bottle and drank, staring at me.

  "Yes."

  "Yeah, I went to Waite." He was still staring
at me.

  I nodded. Miles was an east sider. That spoke volumes.

  "My dad went there, a long time ago, of course. He dropped out in the ninth grade."

  "Yeah, I dropped out too."

  No shit. My next question, "Did you go to college?" flew out the window as I searched desperately for something to talk about while avoiding his eyes.

  "Yeah, I have lived here all my life, too. I went to McAuley Girl's School. They closed it down a few years back. It was a Catholic school."

  "Oh." He continued to stare at me intently. I was unsure of why. Just then his beeper went off. It startled me and I jumped.

  Miles looked at the number. "I have to get this." He then got up and walked to a payphone that was hanging on the wall near the bathrooms.

  "OK." Why didn't he have a cell phone? I would think the Meals on Wheels people would give him one. What if he didn't have change for a payphone one day? And did he have a regular route or he just hung out waiting for people to call when they were hungry?

  Miles came back shortly.

  "I have to go make a delivery. You can either stay here, wait at my house, or I can take you home."

  What a choice. “Are you going to deliver a meal to a shut in? I want to go."

  Miles looked annoyed. "They don't like us taking people when we deliver. It scares the old people. Why don't I take you to my apartment and you can wait for me there?"

  "Ok." I got up and followed him out the door. We drove to a sketchy neighborhood to a rather large, old house down on Summit Street, which had been converted to apartments. His was in the back, up a narrow flight of stairs located on the outside of the building. The door opened into the kitchen.

  Inside, the decor was definitely man living alone. I sat on the couch.

  "You can watch TV. Don't touch nothing," Miles said, walking into what looked like a bedroom off the kitchen. He came out a short time later and walked toward the door. "I'll be back in about a half hour." And with that he was gone.

  It was only after he left that I realized what a stupid predicament I had just put myself in. Here I was, in an apartment of a man I barely knew, in a bad part of town, without a way to leave. Smooth move, I thought to myself. I got up and looked out the back window. Even though it was the daytime, there was no way I was going to walk to civilization; I was too scared of the neighbors. I could call a cab, but I didn't have any money. Besides, I didn't see a phone anywhere.