harwood

With a tender touch, John watched Elena glide her middle finger across the surface of the dash. She added in her index pretending that they were the legs of an elegant figure skater. Twirls and spins, all performed with such grace, captured his imagination. He was never sure of what she was actually doing. It was obvious she had formed some sort of concoction in her mind – like a puppeteer directing each and every movement. Everything had a purpose. Everything was thought out, dictated perfectly to the smallest detail.

She breathed a heavy sigh. Words fumbled out of her mouth – something about getting a cup of coffee.

"I think there’s a small place just up the road," was his reply.

"What town are we in? This place looks dead."

"We’re in Harwood. It’s a little place just outside of the city."

"Do you think they’ll still be open?"

"I guess we’ll find out when we get there."

"I hope they are. I really need a cup. Do you feel exhausted? I can drive a little while you know. I am capable."

"I’ll make it. Just relax. It won’t be too much longer and we’ll finally be there."

"Are you sure? You’ve driven the entire way, y’know. I don’t need you falling asleep again or anything."

"Yeh, I know. It’s fine . . . I’m fine. Just relax already. Okay?"

"Alright, okay."

The sun had faded the white paint on the ‘97 Honda Civic John drove down the old highway. The vehicle hadn’t been washed in at least 8 months. A layer of salt had caked itself onto the thin fiberglass nearly reaching the door handle from last years snow. John got a cheap window-tinting job for his car about 3 years prior, and now the shaded film had begun to peel off of his windows. In parts, it was folded in creases where he attempted to correct the problem. What he thought was the worst part though, was that he had no working stereo. When he rode by himself he would listen to his iPod until its battery would completely run out, but this long trip with Elena was filled with meaningless ramblings instead.

Daniel, John’s father, would have killed him if he saw his car in that kind of shape. He was a stickler for an immaculately clean and well-maintained vehicle. John couldn’t help but think of this when he looked at his pathetic car as he stepped into the loose gravel of The Coffee Pot’s parking lot.

Elena said, "Oh look, baby! They’ve got a chimney!"

"C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here," he said as he finished buttoning his dark gray wool pea coat.

As they briskly walked towards the warm door, small flakes of snow fell on their shoulders. Elena held her tongue out to catch some. She closed her mouth, and an awe of satisfaction crawled from in between her lips as if she just drank the elixir of life.

"Oh I’m sure," John responded sarcastically.

He put his arm around her and led her through the heavy wood and iron door. They sat at a table for two next to the fire.

The cashier said, "If you want anything you have to order up here."

They pushed their chairs in at the same time and exchanged an awkward glance as they got up to order.

At the counter, Elena told John, "I’ll have whatever you are having. I’m going to go wash my face. Will you get it for me?"

He nodded yes. "Yeh, sure. No problem." After just a moment’s hesitation he told the cashier, "I want black coffee. She wants something complicated and sweet. Make it kill her."

"Sir . . ."

"Yes, she wants whipped cream."

"Ok, your total is $7.89."

"Jesus Christ, for a couple cups of coffee?"

"You said you wanted it to kill her."

"Fair enough."

Elena was balling her pathetic eyes out. The black lines of mascara that once traced her eyes now ran down her cheeks like oil in an ocean. She threw a punch at the metal paper towel holder with all she had in her just until the point of contact and hurt her hand even still. She had gotten scared; she couldn’t make herself bleed. She thought herself weak.

"Hey man, here’s your coffee."

"Thanks. Will you do me a favor?"

"Sure I guess."

"Will you tell Elena, that girl that’s with me, that I had to go get something out of the car and that I’ll be right back?"

"Yeah man. That’s no problem."

"Thanks kid."

John pushed the door open, which was even heavier with the wind blowing against him, and walked calmly to the car. He took his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The car was still warm. He remembered he left his iPod in the glove compartment, so he got it out, turned it on, and left the gravel drive for an old highway lost in a sea of trees.