How Do You

-- Distracted --

They sat midway through the small tables of the coffee shop.
As usual, many patrons sat isolated, their eyes glued to their
laptops. Most had some customization or adornment on the top cover to
announce their interests and identity to those who cared to look and
decipher the imagery. Most wearing earbuds to further isolate themselves.

San Francisco has no shortage of coffee shops and most are the
usual chains of Starbucks or Peet's or new investor driven "coffee experiences."

Café Esperanza was an older café that had found a niche catering to long time residents
of The Mission and the newly arrived tech elite who had all but taken over the place.

It still had a television on the wall that was tuned to TV news shows in the morning and
sports later in the day. The family that owned it were from Central America and they
named it Esperanza in hopes it would make it. It was thriving.

And at that halfway table, the young couple sat consuming their coffee and transitioning
into the day that lay ahead. He was occupied with his laptop and she was watching the
morning TV show. Like most morning TV, the anchors  and reporters could have been models
and a handsome black weatherman began talking about the violent weather back East.

"I think he's hot", she said.

"Who?" her husband asked?

"That weather guy. He's new. He's pretty hot.."

Her husband looked up from his laptop to the screen and looked annoyed.

"Maybe you should try the mocha. You getting bored with the latté?", he quipped.

"I'm just looking Michael. I'm just saying I think he's hot."

"I’m just saying you’ve been noticing other men a lot  ,, ‘who’s hot’ more than usual. 
Especially the other night when you had more than your usual.", as he lowered his
reading glasses to look her in the eye.

"Oh I get it, only guys can do that." she said in mock anger.

"Yea, we do that. But we don't keep bringing things up unless they're on our
minds. Seems to me you've been thinking about things.", he said in low tone.

"I don't know what we're talking about here", she said dismissively.

"I think you do. I may be off-base, but be honest with me. The bus is here, I have to go".

Closing his laptop and putting into a leather satchel, he stood up and kissed
her on the cheek.

"Bye Hon, I'll see you tonight.

He reached back removed his wallet and extracted a few dollars for a tip and
placed them on the table.

"Are you going to be home for dinner?" she asked

"Yea, I should be. By seven for sure." he said as he made his way to the
door and out to queue up for the bus that would take him south to Mountain View.

Like migrant workers, the tech elite do not work where they live. Buses collect
them. They are plush and have amenities like continuous WiFi so they
can engage as they travel to their labor. It is by choice, by privilege. Some sleep.

Though they work for the same company, it is as though they are being taken
to tend to fields they have no affection for or connection with.

Non descript, the busses and their schedules delineate the day from collection to 
returning.

She saw his bus turn out from the curb and looked back up to the TV just as they cut
to a commercial.

Her smart watch vibrated and a message appeared.

"Gym - Carol in 15 minutes" it said.

"Oh shit", she uttered. 

Gulping the last of her coffee, she reached down and grabbed a gym bag
and looked over at the barista.

"Bye Maria", she called out to her.

"Bye Stephanie Buenos Dias", the woman said over the sounds of steam
coming from the espresso machine.

As she made her way to the door, she stepped around one
of the employees cleaning a table. He was new. He pressed himself up against the
table to make more room for her to pass. He was Hispanic and
she made note of his physique. He looked in his late twenties, early
thirties.

She made her way to the door and exiting, began walking at
a quick pace down the street.

Arriving at the gym slightly late, she noticed her friend was just stepping onto
the treadmill and was putting her water bottle into the holder. She placed
a magazine onto the tray above the controls. She looked up an saw Stephanie
walk past.

Stephanie went into the locker room and emerged about a minute later with
a sweat towel, water bottle cellphone and earbuds. 

She stepped up onto the treadmill next to her friend.

"Hey Carol. Sorry I'm late", she said.

"When are you on time?", her friend shot back and they smiled.

On the walls lined a row of TVs showing a variety of programming and the
morning TV shows were wrapping up. The weatherman who had annoyed
her husband was doing a final summary before cutting to network programming.

Motioning with her gaze to her friend, she looked up at the weatherman and
spoke above the whir of the machines.

"I told Michael I thought this guy was hot." 

"Well, ‘cause he is. .", her friend said and then she laughed.

"Totally. … Michael got kind of jealous.", she said quizically.

As if it where an endearing quirk, her friend said "Aww .."

"He said maybe I should try the mocha next time.
I don’t he likes me checking out other guys." and she paused
"Probably because I said some stuff the other night I shouldn’t have."

Her friend paused for a moment and then said

"Women can admit other women are attractive. Men get defensive.
Probably the testosterone."

"Probably. I think he’s feeling a little insecure and stressed right now.", Stephanie
said in a more serious tone.

"About work and stuff?" her friend asked

"He’s totally obsessed with it. They have some big deadline and
everybody’s been putting in a lot of time. Seems like forever.
It’s been affecting us.", she said more quietly even though no other gym patrons
were within earshot.

"You’re not fighting I hope?", her friend asked in a concerned voice.

"No. No. We’re fine relationship-wise, It’s just.." and she paused.

"Intimacy?" her friend asked.

"What’s that? Yea. I thought maybe he had a mistress.
I know he doesn’t. But he’s distracted just like it. We’re not intimate a
lot and when we are, it’s not been great.", and she trailed off, disappointed in having to 
say the words.

"A lot of relationships go bad on that. So, have you been thinking about other guys?",
her friend asked.

"I’m not sure I wanna go there.", Stephanie said to try and deflect the question.

"Well you answered that question ..", and she laughed. "I mean it’s one thing to check them out. We all do that. Is it more than that?"

Stephanie paused and thought about how much she wanted to say.

"I think about it a lot."

Her friend became concerned.

"Look .. I don’t want to see you go down a road that you’ll regret taking."

"Thank-you Carol, I appreciate that.. I’m not sure what I’m doing right now.
I shouldn’t even be talking about it."

Her friend looked at her with serious look, her brow fretted.

"Well, you need to be sure. Get sure. And you should talk about it with him."

"I love Michael. I love what we have together. It’s just…." and she paused.

"Your needs aren’t getting met.", Carol said confirming she understood.

"Yea. And I feel really selfish. But i have these urges. I feel like “get it together girl”.
But I can’t. I can’t concentrate on anything. I’ve fantasized to the point
where I get wet. That's not good.", she confessed.

"This is where you have to talk to him. Be honest. Before there are mistakes.
This is a conversation a husband and a wife should be able to have." Carol said.

"I know. We have to. Thank-you for listening. And we both have our careers to weave into it.
I have this writ I have to do today and I totally have to
focus myself on that. How do you make good decisions when you're juggling
so many things?"

They increased the tempo of their  treadmills and they did not speak until they 
went into the locker room to change.

"Take care Stephanie .. Talk to him OK?"

And resigning to what she knew she had to do, she replied "OK"

© Copyright 2019 John Ornville. All rights reserved.