I sit down at the restaurant with my friend and order a coffee.

They bring it in one of their signature cups: a China cup with

a black background and vivid pink blooming flowers

adorn the cup.  I open the package of Madeline cookies

and carefully arrange them around the saucer.

My friend orders her healthy vegetarian sandwich

on whole-grain bread.

When the sandwich arrives, she inhales it like a starving wolf

on the steppes of Siberia. Between bites she starts a long discourse on her

favorite subject, herself.

I sip my coffee and bite into a Madeline.

I drift off and think about him.

Tall, well-built, almond-shaped hazel eyes. Dark blond hair in an almost military cut.  

Hiking boots ready for his next adventure.

Personal office space dotted with advanced degrees, awards for his time in the military. Pictures of the wife, the child. Various vacations. A life well spent. A life being the head-guy.

And he is the head-guy. Chatty, friendly, full of curiosity and interests. The office girls rotate

around him like planets around the sun. He is engaging…interesting.

In the many years I have known him, only once, recently, did he utter the words “my wife.”

Never before. No wedding ring, no recent photos. Lots of trips, none of which seemed to include her. The wife.

Recently, he has become more than a little interested. At long last. Now that I know for sure there is another.

My friend talks on. I eat another cookie and sip more coffee. I nod my head and say things like “Yes, absolutely.” “Interesting!” and go on with my daydream.

Thinking of others; the half-a-loaf guys. Always giving you half a loaf and never the whole loaf. And I, desperate, needy? Willing to accept that and be happy. The husband, the ring, the vows. Yet…. there in person and absent in soul. Never really there.

I’m older now. Less needy. The internal fires have dampened down more, which is a mercy. I can be more removed, more objective.

The waitress comes to pour more coffee. Are all those cookies gone? I inspect the saucer and realize that all that is left are the crumbs. All three cookies, gone.

The crumbs are all my head-guy is offering. Not the whole loaf, not even half. Just crumbs.

For once in my life the crumbs won’t be enough.

My friend has finished her sandwich and has wound down. She is looking at me with a funny expression.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” I reply.  I am quite certain now. I finish my coffee and brush the little crumbs away as we get ready to leave.

5/26

cew