Without a Net

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  “I didn’t stop, though. I should have stopped.” He sounded like he was crying now. “When I saw you crying, I should have stopped.”

  “Stop saying that. I never asked you to stop.”

  She hadn’t, either. In fact, she’d done the opposite. When he hadn’t been able to perform—maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was because she wasn’t a man, whatever it was—but when he hadn’t been able to get it up, she’d helped him with it. And when it was all over, after an excruciating amount of time, they’d both laid there. He on top of her, motionless and tense, she beneath, wishing he’d move so she could close her legs. When he finally rolled off her, it was both in relief and embarrassment, their nakedness displayed in such an obvious manner. She’d pulled the edge of the comforter over herself and he’d gotten up and dressed without a word. She’d heard about this. When the guy just got up and left afterward. She’d wanted him to leave though. He’d stood by the side of the bed at first, moving his mouth like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he hadn’t. She’d felt like shit, letting him stand there so uncomfortable. But she’d already done enough to try to make him feel better. She’d wanted him to disappear and never come back. She was sure he’d seen it in her eyes, her rejection of him. Another blow to his heart.

  Now, here, they were talking about it.

  “Can we chalk it up to experimentation? A drunken experiment and pretend it never happened?” He sounded like a little boy and it made her grimace. She was glad they were on the phone and not somewhere he could see her.

  “Yes, please.” She laughed but it was more of a bark. The humiliation remained, but a little of the tension had faded. “Maybe we can joke about it someday, but for now, let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”

  There was still the… But she couldn’t think about it, let alone talk to him about it. Not yet.

  “Oh, good.” He sounded infinitely relieved. At least one of them could move on. “It was awful, wasn’t it?”

  “So awful.” If there was a word more explicit, she’d use it, but her mind wasn’t functioning well enough to come up with it.

  “I’ve never had a more awful—”

  “Mike…”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re pretending it never happened, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. What were we talking about?”

  “Exactly.”

  They laughed a little and there was another pause, but this one wasn’t as uncomfortable as the previous pauses.

  “So, Fi?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I miss you. You wanna get some coffee tomorrow? I have to work, but I can take a break. We could meet at Helga’s at ten-thirty?”

  “Sure.” It would be better than hanging around her apartment thinking about not thinking.

  16

  “Ugh! Today has been dead! I hate it when it’s dead. It makes the day go by so slowly. I wish I was still on tour.” Betty threw the rag she’d used to clean the steam wand onto the drip plate.

  Meg was straightening up the scones in the display case. “It’s the holiday weekend. Uncle Arthur’s shop was always dead on the weekends before the 4th of July. Everyone’s on vacation. It’s hotter than fuck. No one wants coffee.”

  “I know. And I go crazy like this every 4th of July weekend. The band only has one gig this weekend, too. I’m so bored.” Betty dragged out the last word like a morose teenager. Meg laughed. She actually liked the slower pace. It allowed her to talk to the customers a little more.

  “Where are you playing?”

  “At the Dockside in Hell’s Kitchen. There’ll be a few bands and then there’ll be fireworks. We’re playing on the rooftop terrace. It’ll be pretty cool. You should come.”

  Meg had gone to see Magenta Morning a couple times, and one time she had hung out with the band after the show. It had been sort of cool to be considered part of the group at first, but she’d become uncomfortable when several fans had gathered trying to get the attention of the band members. It wasn’t her kind of scene.

  “Maybe.”

  “You say that every time.”

  Meg closed the case. “I mean it this time. I think it would be cool. I haven’t been to Hell’s Kitchen.”

  Betty wiggled her eyebrows. “You might meet a woman there. We have quite the lesbian following.”

  Meg pretended to consider it. “So tempting.”

  Betty picked up on it. “What? You haven’t been on a single date since you moved to New York.”

  Meg rested against the counter. “It’s hard to date when I know I’ll be leaving in a month or so.”

  “By date, I mean fuck. You don’t need to fall in love. Just have a little fun.”

  Meg looked around to see if any customers had heard. The place was deserted. “That’s really not my thing.”

  “What is your thing, then? So far, all I’ve seen you do is drool over the woman with the boyfriend who comes in once in a while.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know who I’m talking about. The cutie you always flirt with.”

  Meg knew exactly who she was talking about. Fiona. Maybe it was her coffee order name, but she liked it. And her smile. She had a beautiful smile. Although she rarely smiled anymore. She’d never actually talked to her, but it was nice to think about her sometimes and wonder who she was, what she was like, what would make her smile again. She decided to make an effort next time Fiona came into the shop.

  “I don’t flirt.”

  Betty pushed her shoulder. “But you like her, huh?”

  “I don’t even know her.”

  “You can change that, you know.”

  Meg shook her head. “Like I said, I’m leaving soon. I don’t see the point in it.”

  “And like I said, you don’t have to fall in love.”

  A customer came in and saved Meg from having to respond.

  17

  Fiona slept in on Friday, hoping to escape her problems through sleep. It worked for a little while, but even so, she was still up by eight. When she got out of bed, she cleaned her apartment from top to bottom. It was a small apartment though, and she wasn’t a very messy person, so it didn’t take too long. After taking a shower, Fiona threw on an old hippie skirt, a well-worn Columbia University T-shirt, and a pair of flip flops.

  She grabbed her keys and her sunglasses from the ledge near her front door on her way out. Her keys were on top of the journal she’d tried to write in. On a whim, she picked it up and decided to give it another try. She needed to figure out what she was going to do about the pregnancy. Maybe she’d stay at the coffee shop after Mike went back to work and she could come up with a plan. Decisively, she tucked her journal under her arm and began the short walk up the block to the coffee shop. The day wasn’t too hot yet, so her plan was to find a quiet table on the patio where she could sit and think about her situation. Avoidance wasn’t working. She knew if she focused, a plan would come to her and things would be okay. They had to be.

  Fiona looked for Mike when she got to Helga’s. She didn’t expect to see him there yet because she was half an hour early, and she didn’t. The sparse crowd in the normally bustling coffee shop was a welcome surprise. It was the Friday before the 4th of July weekend and most people had already left the city to get a head start on the three-day weekend. Holidays often came and went without Fiona giving them much thought, and even without her current crisis, she probably wouldn’t have made any big plans. Maybe hang out with friends if they asked, but if it were left to her, she would have worked through it. Thanks to her boss, she was left with a large chunk of time to fill and she was at a loss. She was suddenly thankful for the coffee date with Mike, as brief as it would be. In a sudden and uncharacteristic bout of self-pity, it hit her again—she didn’t have much of a life. Faced with everything else going on with her, the unsurprising,
but depressing, knowledge reignited the funk she had hoped was lifting.

  Preoccupied by her depressing thoughts, Fiona waited in the unexpectedly short line to place her order.

  She recognized the new barista when she got closer to the register and a tiny bubble of excitement filled her stomach. Jeez! She really need to get a handle on her all over the place emotions. As usual, it felt like she’d seen her somewhere else, but she couldn’t place it. She would have remembered if she had. It wasn’t because she was so pretty—striking, really, with piercing blue eyes and dark brown hair, a look Fiona found arresting on anyone. It was more in the way the woman carried herself, so confident and amiable. She didn’t chat with the customers, but she had a friendly smile for each of them. Fiona watched her wait on the customer ahead of her and she couldn’t help but anticipate her turn.

  “I see you checking her out,” whispered a voice behind her.

  Fiona spun to see Josh. He was almost laughing as he looked between her and the barista, nodding his head.

  “Shut up!” She bounced against him with her shoulder. She was pretty sure the barista hadn’t heard him, but she blushed. “I was not.”

  “Were, too. I don’t blame you, though. I go two blocks out of my way to come here to see her. Café Joe’s is closer to my office, but the coffee jockeys look like they were hired straight off the docks. Not so easy on the eyes, even if I leaned that way. You here by yourself?” He looked around.

  “You’re a pig. Seriously, I wasn’t checking her out. I was looking at the menu behind her.” She didn’t know why she lied. So what if she checked out a beautiful woman? Either way, she knew how Josh could get, so she wanted to change the subject before the guy before her finished paying and Josh said something to embarrass her in front of the barista. “I’m meeting Mike here. Did your boss free you from the dungeon today, or are you on a break?”

  Josh snorted. “Jared, The Prick, took the day off so I’m taking a long break. Actually, it’s a normal sized break, but when you’re used to getting no breaks at all, even fifteen minutes feels like a luxury. I’m gonna have to order and run, though. Bummer. I haven’t seen Mike in weeks. Since the exam results came out. He’s been lying low. I guess I would, too.” He glanced at her T-shirt and skirt. “Anyway, you look mega-casual even for a Friday. You got the day off?”

  “Yeah, my boss told me to get a head start on the holiday weekend. Little does he know I have no life. I’ll probably run through cases from home.”

  “You have no idea how lucky you are, Fi. You’ll tell me first if something opens up at your firm, right? I don’t know how long I can take it where I’m at. Maureen’s no help. She won’t ‘blend her personal life with her professional life’, she says.” He rolled his eyes.

  Maureen always knew how to handle things like this. Unlike her. “Of course. You’ll be the first to know.” See? Like that. She didn’t want to work with Josh, either. He was a good friend, but was one of the most entitled people she knew. Thankfully, she was fairly confident there would be no attorney positions available for quite a while. She’d taken the last slot, and before she was hired, it had been at least ten years since the last position opened up. The attorneys at her firm liked it there and were unlikely to move.

  The guy before them shuffled to the other end of the dark granite counter where a woman with black hair and tattoos all over her arms delivered the drinks she prepared. Fiona stepped up to the register with Josh next to her.

  “Fiona and Harpo, right? How are you two doing today?” The barista spoke to them. And knew her name. Fiona was surprised. The barista must have read the puzzled look on her face. She smiled her dazzling smile and shrugged. “It’s a weird gift I have with remembering names. You’re regulars.”

  Fiona laughed. “Ah, yeah.” She looked at Josh. “Harpo?”

  He smiled. “What? Josh is boring. At least she remembered me.”

  “Is Fiona your real name?”

  The barista’s question surprised Fiona. Not the actual question. Josh had admitted to making his name up. Rather that she even asked a question. New York City baristas were famous for their terse, less than friendly service. She got it. They sort of had to be to keep the lines moving. She’d ordered from the tattooed barista dozens of times and hadn’t ever chatted with her. This one was always friendly, but she, too, had always been busy and had never chatted. Although the place wasn’t slamming busy like usual, there were still a few people behind her in line, so Fiona was a little uncomfortable with the chit-chat. “It’s a family name. We’re Irish.” Fiona glanced at the barista’s name tag. “Dr. Coffee” was written in black marker on some tape. Not very helpful.

  “Hey, me, too,” The barista smiled. “Irish, that is. Part, anyway. I think there’s some German and Persian in there, as well. So, what can I get you two to drink today?”

  The weight of the past week lifted a little as Fiona gazed into the woman’s beautiful blue eyes. They were arresting—the color of blue verging on violet, and almond–shaped. A dark rim around the iris made them stand out in vivid relief. Sun-kissed skin, a strong jaw line, and a chin with a slight cleft completed her nearly perfect face. A slight dimple on the woman’s left cheek was almost too much. Dimples drove her crazy—in a very good way. She had to look away, but she couldn’t.

  “I’ll have a large iced coffee.” Josh pulled her from her reverie. She looked at the floor. How long had she been staring?

  Fiona cleared her throat and looked up. The arresting eyes held her once again. “And I’ll take a medium, decaf, vanilla latte. Hot. Not iced.”

  The barista held her pen over the cup. “Two pumps?”

  “Yeah, how’d you guess?”

  “Similar to the name thing. I remember drinks.”

  “That’s pretty amazing.” Josh flashed what he thought of as his killer smile. Fiona almost rolled her eyes. God. What was wrong with her?

  The barista smiled at his comment but her eyes stayed on Fiona. “Will that be all?”

  Fiona could only nod her head. She couldn’t tell for sure, but was the barista flirting with her?

  Josh handed some cash over before Fiona had a chance to get her card out.

  She put her wallet away. “Hey, thanks Josh. I’ll get you next time.”

  “Deal,” he said as the barista handed him his change.

  “Come back and see us again.” The barista smiled at Fiona.

  Fiona could only smile back and duck her head. Her cheeks grew warm and she hoped Josh didn’t notice. They moved to the end of the counter. A few people loitered close, waiting for their drinks, and Fiona stole furtive glances at the barista, who kept the line moving. Fiona noticed she was friendly, but she didn’t chat with any of the other customers.

  “Not checking her out, my ass.” Josh smirked. “And something tells me she liked your business better than mine, if you know what I mean.”

  Fiona ignored him and changed the subject. “Hey, last time we were here—when was it? Two or three weeks ago?”

  Josh looked at the ceiling. “Three. Because I had a deadline and I was having a shit week and I begged you to take a break and meet me here to talk me off the ledge.”

  “Yeah. I assume everything worked out okay? I keep meaning to check in but it’s been sort of hectic. Not to take the spotlight from you, but they haven’t hired a new research assistant since they moved me to full-time attorney after passing the bar. So, I continue to do both jobs.”

  “God, I’d be happy with research assistant at this point. They haven’t stopped dragging their asses on my promotion. The position should be mine. I’m internal and I kick ass for them. I swear to god, I’m this close to walking out,” he said, holding his forefinger and thumb so close together they almost touched. “I’m positive I can get a position at a dozen firms. I don’t know why I give them my loyalty. I’m a fool for believing them. In the meantime, I
’m busting my butt to keep proving my worth to them.”

  “You took them at their word. And they are the best personal injury firm on the west side.”

  “Yeah. I think I’m done waiting, though.”

  “My advice is to pick a timeframe you’re willing to wait and if runs out before you get the promotion they promised, you leave.”

  “Yeah. Maybe I should.” He looked like he was seriously considering it.

  “There was something else going on, too, when we talked. There was a woman you were seeing? You weren’t dating and you called her unavailable, but you refused to give me details. You ready to talk about it yet?”

  Josh’s expression told her she’d struck a nerve. He looked like he was considering what to say, which was unlike him. He’d always been the guy telling her way more than she wanted to know about his sex life. Their names were called to pick up their coffee and Josh looked relieved.

  “Oh, yeah. I’d love to talk, but I have to run back. I’m already beyond my break limit. Love you. Bye!” He kissed her on the cheek and he was gone.

  Sighing, Fiona walked to the front door in search of a quiet table on the sidewalk patio. It was hot out, but the patio was in shade and she wanted to be outside.

  The heat meant there were several tables open. Fiona took a seat in front of the café’s multi-paned windows, far enough away from the front door so as not to be bothered by the in and out traffic. She faced the door so she would see Mike when he arrived. The table was placed in the dappled shade of a large elm tree and near an alley running between the old brick building housing the coffee shop and another brick building next door, home to an appliance repair store. Taking a cautious sip of her steaming latte, she thought about Josh and his sudden exit. She wondered what was going on there as she absently tapped her pen against the cover of her journal.

  The journal reminded her she had other things to think about, but instead she watched the barista through the window. Her situation prevented her from pursuing any sort of relationship, but it was the first time in a very, very long while that Fiona had experienced anything close to the kind of attraction she was feeling. But anything beyond simple attraction wasn’t possible. Despair about her situation enveloped her once again. She had to figure out what she was going to do.