We sat here.Every single Sunday Morning.Rain or shine.From eight to nine.
For her this was what she did "Just before yoga"
And for myself this was my day off.
She was a landscape artist.
I was manager of Starbucks.
We did not speak ,though we were once best friends.
We did not talk, though we had tons on our minds to tell.
We did not touch, yet we spent 9 months in the same womb.
The Nixon twins.
We were nothing the same, I turned out the unfunny joke.
She is blond, named Angelica, married with two kids and a Jeep.
I am a redhead, named Hades,single with no offspring and I am proud to say that public transit is my friend.
She toke a deep breath as if to start a conversation.
"Hades" she said."I think your anorexic"
After almost an hour of people watching, I wondered what urged her to speak, and for what?
"Anorexic?" I say.
Sure I was a little thin but needless to say I was proud.
"I rather be anorexic than fat Angie"
"You looked at me right after you said that."
What was it with the women of our generation? She started pinching at the non existent fat of her midriff and puffing her cheeks by holding her breath. She definitely was not at all fat.
"Angelica Samantha Nixon, you are not fat" I said.
"Whatever Hades keep your lies for someone else " she said.
8:46 am only fourteen minutes to go. She got ready to speak again, something she wouldn't do unless she really needed a favor.
"Jakes birthdays coming up" she said dropping the subject of weight.
Jake, my nephew of 8 years was one of Angie's kids that did not inherit the looks of our side of the family, but instead was born a plump little boy who was spoiled. Like father like son.
"Really? What does he want, a box of doughnuts?"I say smiling at my own joke.
"Hades that's not funny" she said holding in a laugh.
"But seriously Angie, I can't believe you created that. How you ever recovered from the birth I do not know"
She laughed and it echoed over the unnecessary playlist of Cat Power and Velvet Underground that seemed put on replay.
"I need you to make a cake" she said.
"Me a cake? I am a man Angie, we don't bake cakes.Why? Ask one of your friends from your long list of hypocrites,feminist and divorcés"
She rolled her eyes.
"Hades, you're manager of a bloody Starbucks.Who makes The brownies there?"
She continued on to greedily sipping her Vanilla green tea that was 80% sugar and contemplated another cup.
The process included biting her lips and nibbling at her thumb until the answer came.
"Have another cup" I whispered.
Being herself and accepting what she thought was a challenge she pushed away the cup and looked at me.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Fine-fine because you are my sister"
Her content smile changed her face.
"Thank you Hades!" she gets up to leave staring at her vintage watch.
Her motions called the attention of secret admirers from their seats, as if it was hard to tell in this tiny restaurant. They could of tried to be subtle.
She stopped at the door and looked back with her hazel eyes.
"Hades, remember Jake hates chocolate and is allergic to gluten" she ads.
"Have fun at yoga" I said, only it was so quiet it probably sounded like I was talking to myself.
What kid didn't like chocolate?
I was convinced men did not bake cakes.Did they? Great.On my free day I will be looking up recipes...