A New York Romance

by Winters, Abigail

  What is he thinking? Julie questioned to herself. Can he help her husband? What will he do? She fumbled through the letters and waited for Charlie to choose a bed, but she ended up falling asleep among the piles before he moved a muscle. He thought of all the people he had met and creatures he had seen, like the bees among the scarce city flowers, the chubby man he embarrassed before spring, Betty Tildess, and many more and wished them true love. Then he carefully covered Julie with a spare blanket and went to sleep.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning, Julie and Charlie looked at the address on Mrs. Costea’s envelope. They hailed a taxi and took it to her home. When they arrived, Charlie didn’t go to the door. He just stood on the sidewalk for a moment and stared at the house.

  “You’re not going to talk to her or meet her at all, are you?” Julie asked, remembering how he refused to talk to the couple in the coffee shop.

  “No, I have always done my work without humans seeing me. There is no need to meet her,” he answered.

  Charlie just stood there, staring at the luxurious brick home. They took great care of their home. It sat back off the road a hundred yards or so, gated along the sides. Every bush was neatly trimmed, every spring flower was in its place, the windows were cleaned to invisibility, and the lawn had just received its first diagonal cut. The edges of the driveway and mulch bed were clearly defined, even around the three-car garage.

  “If people put such care into their relationships, they would find true love within a few years,” Charlie whispered.

  He waited patiently until the door finally opened. They looked closely at the man. Then they looked even closer at the details of his face. It was the pinstriped suited man whom called Charlie an idiot. There he was, dressed in a different, yet equally posh suit as the day before. His briefcase was at his side, and his cell phone cupped over his left ear as he ranted on about numbers and names of people he obviously was not fond of.

  “How’s that for synchronicity?” Charlie said.

  “He’s going to be a tough one,” Julie said.

  The man stepped into his black, luxury BMW, backed out of the driveway, and sped off down the street. Charlie and Julie walked up the driveway and peered through the window. Theresa sat on the couch, crying holding a picture of her sons and husband.

  “Shouldn’t we talk to her?” Julie asked, feeling sorrow for the woman.

  “No, I never appear to the humans unless I need to,” he said. “But I will make an exception for her husband. He will be a tough one.”

  Charlie wished good thoughts to the woman, vowed he would help her, and returned to the city. He walked to the nearest café, ordered a tall black coffee, and returned to the law firm where Pin Stripe obviously worked. As he approached the door, the doorman slid in front of him like a military officer clicking his heels together.

  “May I help you?” the doorman asked.

  “I have a delivery for a gentleman inside, Mr. Costea. A cup of black coffee that he would much enjoy,” Charlie said very politely.

  “Very well,” the doorman said as he opened the door. “Just make sure you check in at the front desk.”

  Charlie looked into the man’s eyes as if he were looking into the eyes of a king who was letting him enter his kingdom. He went to the front desk. The secretary was busy and distracted with a phone call and Charlie whispered, “I’m here to deliver coffee,” and walked away without her noticing. The doorman looked through the window smiling as he thought Charlie checked in at the desk and was approved.

  He took the elevator up to the fourth floor where he remembered the man in the pinstriped suit, peering through the office window. From there he stood on a bridge that overlooked the entire lobby, looking for the man with the slicked back, black hair. Unfortunately, most of the men in the building were dressed in expensive suits, and had slicked back, black hair. They probably all drink black coffee too.

  Then Mr. Costea came out of the elevator with a look of adrenaline in his eye, as if he was on an important mission. He turned and headed down the hall away from Charlie, who noticed the fresh polish on his shoes and the way the hems of his pants were neatly creased, loosely flopping around his ankles. Charlie followed the smell of cologne down the hall and around the corner.

  “Where is my fax, damn it?!” Mr. Costea yelled. He stood there with his hands on his hips in an angry stance. Charlie leered at him from around the corner. The secretary behind the desk looked frightened as she adjusted her glasses and shuffled through the papers on her desk.

  Charlie saw the secretary’s name on the office door, Flo, and crept up to it unnoticed. Mr. Costea grabbed his fax when the secretary handed it to him, turned without a word, and walked passed Charlie out of the office. Charlie watched as some of the tension fell away from the secretary when he left the room. He smiled at her then followed the smell of expensive cologne down the hall again with the cup of coffee, like a deer stalking a fearless lion with a peace offering.

  The man walked into his office and slammed the door in Charlie’s face without knowing. Charlie waited a moment, took off his shoes, and sat them neatly outside the door, and then he calmly turned the knob.

  He walked inside to find Mr. Costea behind his polished mahogany desk, lighting up a cigar. The smoke alarm was sitting upside down on his desk with the battery detached. The wall was littered with framed certificates, law degrees, and professional accomplishments. Charlie noticed that there was only a small picture of his wife on the desk. There were no pictures of his children, brothers, sisters, or parents that he might cherish. On the shelves there were photos of fishing trips and fancy parties, probably with big clients, colleagues, or bosses scattered among the many law books that lined the room, mixed with modern knickknacks that probably didn’t mean a thing to him. Charlie did not think people like this really existed. Times were surely different in this modern age.

  “What do you want?” Mr. Costea suddenly asked, as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a file. “Well, who are you?”

  “I’m the idiot from the other day. Remember me?” Charlie responded.

  “No, do you have an appointment?” the man asked, taking another puff of his cigar then putting it out quickly in the ashtray next to the disabled smoke alarm. “Damn cheap shit. I told her not to get me this kind,” he mumbled to himself.

  “No, I don’t have an appointment, I was…”

  “Then what are you doing here?” the man interrupted. “You’re not one of those interns from a community college are you?” he asked, looking at Charlie’s clothes and appearance in doubt of the possibility. “Because I don’t have the time for that,” he muttered.

  “No, I’m not. Remember me from the other day? I had accidentally…”

  “Where are your shoes?” Mr. Costea noticed his socks unevenly stretched across his feet. They did not even match. One was blue, one green, but both were in an argyle pattern.

  “They’re in the hallway outside the door.”

  They just stared at each other in silence for a moment. Mr. Costea wanted to ask the next obvious question, but shook off his confusion and asked, “What were you saying now about the other day?”

  “The other day on the street outside of your office building, I had accidentally caused you to spill some coffee on the lapel of your suit jacket and I…”

  “I remember you now. Do you know how much that suit cost?”

  “No, I don’t,” Charlie answered.

  “That tie cost more than your whole outfit,” he said, looking at Charlie’s clothes once again with distaste. “So what do you want? I accept your apology. Is that what you came to do? You can go now.”

  Charlie said nothing. He just stared at Mr. Costea, fumbling through the papers in the open folder for a moment until he yelled, “I said I accept your apology, you can go now! Did you come here to bring me that coffee?”

  “To be honest I just brought the coffee to get through the front door and front desk,” Charlie said, as he sa
t down in the leather chair at the edge of his desk, keeping the coffee to himself. He could see that simple kindness would not be enough to reveal true love to this man. First he would have to break through the stone layers around his heart.

  “What do you want? I’m a very busy man.”

  “I’m not here to apologize to you. I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” Charlie said to his surprise.

  He stopped fumbling through the papers, looked up, and laughed.

  “What would I apologize to you for?”

  “For bumping into me on the street, calling me an idiot, blaming me alone for the coffee that ended up on your suit, giving me an uncomfortable look, and simply for disliking me without even knowing me,” Charlie answered, “and now also for treating me rudely in your office.”

  Mr. Costea looked at him, puzzled. Charlie took the lid off the coffee and gulped a mouthful between his cheeks to swish it around, like he drank his café mochas. However, the coffee was hot, almost boiling hot, and Charlie just remembered how much he didn’t like the taste of black coffee. Suddenly he spit the coffee back out of his mouth and all over the man’s desk, covering the papers that sat open in his brief case.

  Mr. Costea jumped up and stood there with his arms outstretched, certain that Charlie did it on purpose. A moment later, a rather large security guard walked through the doorway. He grabbed Charlie by the back of his shirt, dragged him down the steps to the emergency exit, and threw him swiftly out the back door. “Don’t ever come in this building or bother Mr. Costea again,” the security guard warned, as Charlie’s shoes tumbled passed him. The coffee cup landed between his legs, spilling hot coffee across the front of his pants.

  Charlie gasped the air, clenching his facial muscles and hands as the hot coffee soaked through his pants. “You really shouldn’t litter,” he whispered as he breathed out, then he picked up his shoes with one hand and the cup with the other. He sent a quick wish of love to the ants that were ready to feast upon the spilled coffee in the concrete cracks before he threw the cup in the garbage. Charlie put on his shoes as he walked around to the front of the building where Julie was waiting. She saw the stain on his pants and hoped it was only a spill. She also noticed the slow defeated way he was walking, with his head hung low.

  “So how did it go? Did you show him what true love is?” she joked.

  “He threw me out. Now I’m not allowed in the building. I’ll have to sneak in,” he said with a sudden, mischievous smile.

  She hugged him. It was a different kind of hug than she had ever given him before. Charlie could feel her affection. His defeat was her defeat. He quickly turned from her when she opened her arms and started walking.

  He looked back up at Mr. Costea’s office window. Indeed he would be a challenge.

  “Did he hurt you?” Julie asked as she wrapped her left hand around the inside of his right elbow and followed him side by side.

  “No, don’t worry about me. I can always get a new body if I need one,” he said with a serious kind of humor.

  Julie suddenly felt the enormous distance between them, as if part of Charlie would always remain in some far off, unreachable place. Nonetheless, he was here with her now. She could feel the tension in his arm as she held it tight. “Maybe you just need a new pair of pants for now,” she forced a laugh, finding herself feeling close to him again.

  Julie grabbed Charlie by the hand and dragged him into the street. She started dancing around him, but Charlie didn’t dance. Julie could feel the distance again, but she did all she could to ignore it and instead, she tried unendingly to drag Charlie back into the moment with her. She touched his face and kissed his cheek. She held his hands and hugged him from behind, but Charlie did not return the affection with as much enthusiasm. The distance between their hearts could be felt in his smiles.

  Back at the motel, she lay in bed, staring at him from under her covers and asking herself, Does he not want to be close to me? Does he not think of me the way I think of him? Does he desire to sleep next to me and hold me close?

  He stared out the window until she was asleep, and then went to bed himself, as he had so many times before.

  Chapter 20

  The next morning Charlie left the motel before Julie woke up. He left her a note stating he wouldn’t be gone long.

  He walked to the law firm downtown to meet Mr. Costea. The same doorman was on duty.

  “Hello sir,” Charlie greeted him, carrying two cups of coffee.

  “Good morning,” the doorman replied.

  Charlie sensed the hesitation in his voice, wondering if he should block the doorway again as if he was a part-time security guard, working extra hard for a promotion.

  “Cup of coffee for Mr. Costea,” Charlie said with a smile.

  The doorman relaxed and asked, “Did he enjoy yesterday’s coffee?”

  “Very much,” Charlie said as he passed through the doorway. Charlie did not even stop at the desk. While the secretary was directing another patron he passed by like a coffee shop delivery man who had been there a hundred times before.

  Mr. Costea was in his office. He hung up the phone and fell into his squeaky leather chair mumbling about the client who was on the other end, “If you don’t want to go to jail, quit robbing your neighbors’ houses.” He opened his brief case, fumbled through his papers, and then sat back and closed his eyes. He nearly fell asleep when he suddenly felt a presence in the room. He opened his eyes to see Charlie sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk, staring at him.

  “Ah!” he screamed. He leaned back in his chair, nearly falling over backwards.

  “How did you get in here?” Mr. Costea asked as he stood up, still startled.

  “Relax, don’t call security, I just came to apologize,” Charlie said. “I brought you a coffee this time.”

  Charlie checked to make sure he kept the café mocha and handed the black coffee to Mr. Costea. However, he refused to take it from his hand. He just stood there, looking at Charlie, wondering who the strange person before him was. Charlie sat quietly, taking sips of his mocha, swishing it around his mouth like a little kid does with chocolate milk.

  Mr. Costea glared over the desk at his feet. He could see his shoes sitting outside the open door. Charlie’s left ankle crossed over his right knee, slowly bouncing up and down as the edge of his sock hung loosely off his toes.

  “How did you get in here?” he asked as he lifted the lid to the coffee, examined it, and put the lid back on.

  “I walked,” Charlie replied.

  “You said you wanted to apologize,” Mr. Costea hinted to him. “You’re not going to spill more coffee on me, are you?”

  “Oh yes, I mean no. Yes I came to apologize, no I am not going to spill more coffee on you or your things…at least I don’t plan to.”

  “Well…” Mr. Costea hinted again rolling his hand to encourage Charlie’s apology.

  “Oh yes, I’m sorry,” Charlie said.

  “That’s it? That’s your apology?”

  “It is not the words that are important, it is that I really meant it, that is what is important, and I mean it. I’m sorry,” Charlie said again, then he just sat there, looking around the bewildered man’s office.

  “I…accept your apology,” Mr. Costea said, then he stared at Charlie as he sat there looking around his office. He was waiting and hoping for him to get up and leave.

  “Did you hear me? I accepted your apology. You can go now,” he hinted again.

  “I’m just waiting for your apology to me now. Then we’ll be even.”

  “Okay. If I apologize, will you go away? I really don’t want to have to call security again.”

  Charlie shook his head in agreement.

  “Fine! I apologize for bumping into you,” he recalled Charlie’s requests from yesterday, “for blaming you for spilling coffee on me, ah…and for …”

  “Calling me,” Charlie hinted to him.

  “For calling you an idiot,” Mr. C
ostea finished.

  “And?” Charlie provoked his memory.

  “And for giving you an uncomfortable look?’” he hoped that was it.

  Charlie shook his head in agreement but gestured with his hand that there was more.

  Mr. Costea sighed and thought as he twirled his pen around his fingers. “And for disliking you…without knowing you, right?”

  “This isn’t a test to see if you can remember and tell me what I want to hear. I don’t accept your apology,” Charlie said.

  “What?” Mr. Costea yelped as he reached under his desk to push the security button. “I don’t need to apologize to you. I was just humoring you because I didn’t want to call security again and have you thrown out. I was being nice,” he said in a not so nice tone.

  “That is why I do not accept your apology. You said a lot of words but none of them were sincere. You apologized to me for your own benefit, so you simply would not have to see me again, not because you meant it…” suddenly the office door opened further and there stood the large security guard with an angry look on his face. Charlie stood up as he was grabbed by his shirt, dragged down the stairs, and tossed out the back door. His shoes came tumbling after. Charlie stood up, put on his shoes, and walked away, looking as if he had an ‘I didn’t get to the bathroom soon enough’ accident again.

  Julie read the note that Charlie left on the table, saying he would be back shortly. She showered and waited. Then Charlie walked through the door with coffee stains on his jeans again and Julie laughed, “He didn’t like the coffee again?”

  “He’s going to be my masterpiece, if I ever finish,” Charlie said with sincere laughter.

  Julie just smiled. He noticed her sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. Her nails were painted red and makeup lit up her beautiful smile.

  He felt his human heart beat faster and the blood rush with more force through his veins. “Are you hungry?” he asked, distracting himself from the feeling of attraction inside.