Specter
The coffee cup in my hand is warm, it's heat seeps gently through the Styrofoam walls of its prison, easing the stiffness in my fingers. I've been here for quite some time, but the hands on my watch have stopped ticking, so I know not how long. I have come here everyday for the past four years. When I started coming to this place I could walk its length over and over. But such long walks are beyond me now; my brittle arthritic knees can't take the stress. These days I simply sit here, coffee in hand, and watch the world, content to sit and watch it pass at what seems to be light-speed.
I used to dread this, this disconnection from the world, with every fiber of my being. It seems strange that I should have come to revel in it. Everyday sit here and watch the people, watch them as they interact with each other, watch them come and go, watch them. Some of them I see everyday, some come and go so quickly they are ever only a fleeting memory. There are handsome young men, handsome old women. Single parents with their children, teenage girls who sit and giggle over boys, lovers who kiss across the tables when they think no one is looking, children throwing temper tantrums. I watch them all. For some I write stories in my head, others I let pass as they are, and never even speculate on their pasts, their histories.
Today has been full of interesting people. Four old women sat close, nibbling slowly on ice creams, discussing new books, old movies, their health, and their children. They parted ways with kisses and tears, unknowing of how many times they'd see each other again.
Two men sat next to me and ate their food in unbroken silence, twin brothers, split apart by time, politics, or the love of a woman. They glared at their plates, trying to find the words that could fix the break between them, never quite managing, desperate to remember exactly what it was they were fighting about.
They left, and short time later their table was taken by a woman in a blue pinstriped business suit, who was joined by her lover soon after she sat down. He brought Chinese food, and they talked as they ate, planning when and where they would next meet, and whose house they could use to hold a surprise 40th birthday party for his best friend, her husband. When she left he called his wife to see if she wanted him to pick up dinner on his way home.
Three boys sat behind me, writing lyrics for their band. One had a voice sweet as any angel's, cool and clear as water. He hummed as they worked, and low, soft, wordless tune.
One girl worked alone at the ice cream counter. When someone would order something she was all business, quick and efficient about her work. She'd give them their order, thank them for their patronage, and follow them with her eyes as they left. Alone again, she danced as she cleaned the counter, her eyes lit up with happiness, making her a hundred times more beautiful than the prettiest face.
A nervous young boy had his first job interview. He did not fidget as so many young people are wont to do, but his eyes and slight stutter belied his outward calm. The man interviewing him picked up on his nervous cues and assured the young man that he was doing just fine.
A few tables away from me a young girl sat down and read for a while. She drowned out the world through the book, so thoroughly she didn't notice when a friend sat down across from her until he poked her in the shoulder. They talked animatedly until he excused himself, and she sat watching him leave, much happier for seeing the man she loved. When he was out of sight she took a notebook from her bag and began writing. She looks back and forth around the food court, watching the people the same way I am watching her. I fancy that I catch her watching me; that she is writing about me.
When she is gone two girls take the table behind hers, they are sharing ice cream and jokes. Under the table they rub legs, and one drops her hand below the surface to caress her companion's knees. They fed each other, laughing when the cold treat dripped onto their hands. One of the girls got a smear of it on the side of her mouth; the other gently wiped it away.
A man and a woman passed by each other, going in opposite directions. Each scowled as they passed the other. Closer inspection revealed they were both wearing the same shirt.
The food court is almost empty now; the mall is getting ready to start closing down for the night. Still, there are a few stragglers drifting around. A mother and her two children sit down by the small carousel in the center of the food court. The boy, younger of the two, sits tiredly in his chair, his feet dangling above the ground. His sister though, is all energy and mischief. She skitters around their table, hiding behind chairs, chattering nonstop; smiling happily at everyone and everything. Her mother gives her a few dollars and she buys a ticket for the carousel. She is the only one on the ride, and she loudly urges her pony on. Watching her, I cannot help but think of my own granddaughter, of how much I miss seeing her. Slowly the ride comes to a stop, and the little girl leaves her horse with a kiss and the assurance that he was the best pony ever. Her mother watches her, grinning gently, and when her daughter gives her a hug and whispers a thank you in her ear, tears cloud her eyes for a moment; then they are gone.
Over the mall's intercom system a woman announces that the mall will be closing in ten minutes. My coffee is cold in its cup, though I have not drunk a drop. Maybe tomorrow I will call my son, have him bring my granddaughter over for a visit. I think of her and smile. It has been far too long since I have seen her. Another announcement, nine o'clock and the mall is closing. I glance at my watch. It's stuck at 5:42. Tomorrow I will remember to change the battery for sure. But for the moment it is time to go home. I stand and don my coat, leave my cold coffee on the table, one of the janitors will take care of it for me, and make my way to the exit, smiling at the new janitor as I pass her on the way out.
Kathy shivered. She hadn't been working this job long, but she hated it already. It wasn't enough that people were slobs that couldn't clean up after themselves. No, she had to get stuck with the last shift as well. She sighed. The mall was fine as long as it was full of bustling people, but at this time of night it seemed so dead, she couldn't help but feel creeped out. A cool breeze swept by her and she shivered again, looking for, but unable to find, it's source. More than ready to go home, she did one final quick walk through of her section of the food court. Thankfully, there had been no one in her section for a while. Kathy smiled and turned to survey her section, only to find, much to her shock, that a coffee cup had somehow found its way onto one of her tables.
"Hey Janice," she called, "why did you put a cup on one of my tables?" A moment later an older woman appeared, smiling sadly when she saw the coffee cup. "Well Kathy, it would seem that you have met Jim." Janice walked over to the table, and picked up the coffee cup. Kathy shot her a funny look, and Janice explained as she walked back. "There used to be a man who would come here and watch people, one of the regulars, ya' know? I used to talk to him sometimes. He lived two hours from his only son and granddaughter; they were all he talked about, though he rarely go to see them. About three weeks ago he's sitting at that table, drinking his coffee, watching the people go by, and he just keels over. Saw it myself. Doctors said he had a heart attack. Poor man died at 5:42. His son was bringing his granddaughter to see him at seven. Ever since, we've been finding a cup full of cold coffee on that table every night at closing."