“…my heart feels the weight of all I don’t know…”
Continuing the first plot point in the fiction Maya
It was a very warm, sunny Sunday morning as Anne cautiously walked into an almost empty Jack’s. Anne was slightly pensive, remembering the day before when Jack delivered her latte and invited himself to her table.
Anne thought, “When he brought the latte his walk, his movements were like poetry in motion, atypically smooth. He must have an artistic personality.”
Jack was behind the counter looking at the open door as Anne walked in. He smiled at Anne, not too big, nor too slight, a smile that said welcome home.
As Anne approached the counter about ready to ask where everyone was, Jack said, “Anne Eth Janes, research scientist of DNA, you made my day. What’s your pleasure this most beautiful morning?”
Anne wasn’t quite sure how to take that welcome statement, reminding herself, “He’s a salesman, incredibly nice to everyone.”
“Good morning, Jack. Oh, yes, it is just incredible outside. The same please, a double-shot coconut milk latte.”
Jack, still smiling replied as a young five-foot seven-inch brown hair female college student walked out of the door behind, “I’ll bring it right out to you. Mind if I ask, any plans for this incredible day?”
Jack started writing the order on the cup as the young woman stood beside watching, then elbowing him as if to say “I’ve got future customers, go make the latte.”
Anne thought, “My plans are none of his business. Is he just making conversation or sort of flirting?”
As Jack stepped sideways to wind up in front of the latte machine Anne replied, “I’m thinking about just walking around town to get to know Cambridge a little better.”
Jack looked up as the machine made a deep burr sound, and asked, “Would you mind if I made a recommendation? I grew up around here. Cambridge is part of my DNA. My family knows everyone and everything Cambridge.”
Anne replied, “Sure.”
Jack, holding the latte as if a lure, walked out from behind the counter to the nearest table and chair and sat down, placing the cup on the table as an invitation for Anne to join in a chat.
Anne thought, “It is an incredible morning and I can always leave if he goes astray.” So Anne sat down, grabbed her latte, and took a sip awaiting whatever Jack had to share. After all, she thought, he is very cute.
Jack started, “This is a perfect day to get to know Cambridge a little better. I’d recommend walking through the campus. It’s like a park, simply amazing. Can I call you Anne?”
Anne responded, “Yes.”
Jack continued while Anne noticed his smile ever-so-slightly increase, “Take a good book when you walk through the campus because I’m sure you’ll find someplace where you will want to sit and just absorb the beauty. About three blocks up from here is a little cafe, Sebastians, just off of Main, a great place to grab an afternoon snack.”
Anne put down her cup, thinking it was time to get outside to enjoy this warm sunny day, and said: “Jack, owner of Cambridge’s best coffee shop, thank you.”
Just as she was about to stand Jack started, quicker than his usual pace of speech, “And if you’re up for a very little adventure to get an insight into the deeper character of Cambridge, my very good friends and I get together every Sunday evening to just relax and sing a little. On evenings like this, there will be a little fire pit under the most incredible play of stars. If your interested, we always meet at M Street beach at 9.”
Jack noticed Anne’s eyebrows turn down as if asking herself a question, and quickly said, “I’d be happy to take you since you’re new to Cambridge.”
Anne thought, “Sounds like an adventure. I’ll say yes for now and ask Evan what he knows about Jack. I can always back out if there are any red flags from Evans report.”
Anne replied, “Sounds like an experience. I’ll meet you here at, say, 8:45? Will that work?”
Jack replied, “Perfect. I’m a little envious. You get to enjoy the campus today. I’ll look forward to hearing about it tonight.”
And then Jack stood with Anne following.
The two smiled at each other just a fraction of a second longer than comfortable whereupon Anne turned and walked toward the open front door carrying the cup of latte in her hand thinking, “What just happened?”
Jack looked at the ground for a brief second, then at the front door, Anne was walking through. As she stepped outside a ray of sunlight covered her as she looked over her shoulder back at Jack.
Jack stood motionless savoring the image of Anne with the sunlight bathing her as if she were an angel.
A sharp voice from behind Jack said, “Jack, are you okay?”
Jack turned and replied to the young woman, “Yeah. I was just enjoying the view. Beautiful day. Hey, take the day off, paid, on me. Go enjoy. I’ve got this covered.”
She replied, “Wow, thanks Jack. See you tonight at the gathering?”
“Of course,” replied Jack.
As soon as she had walked past the coffee shop storefront Anne called Evan.
Anne heard Evans reply in her earbuds, “Jack is a kind of local hero. He is part of what we call the Cambridge family. Everyone of importance knows him. He’s a kind and gentle soul. Yeah, I’ve heard about those Sunday gatherings. In all of Cambridge there’s no one you’d be safer with. Go, enjoy the evening, and tomorrow come tell me all about it.”
That evening when Anne turned the corner of the coffee shop she saw Jack standing there with a guitar case in hand.
Once at the beach, Jack grabbed Anne’s hand, guitar case in the other, started walking toward a small group of about fifteen young college student looking types sitting around the fire pit on the beach, and said, “Those are my friends over there. It’s a great group. You’ll enjoy them.”
As Jack and Anne approached, the group turned and someone said, “Jack, who is this, introductions.”
Jack pulled up two low beach chairs and offered one to Anne with an outstretched arm and open palm.
Anne sat down, feeling the stare of the crowd on her, about to introduce herself when Jack said, “Everyone, this is Cambridge’s newest DNA research scientist, and Jack’s coffee shop aficionado, Anne Eth Janes.”
The young crowd all said “Welcome,” in various tones, some with “…Anne” added.
Anne smiled, feeling calmer, starting to relax at the sight of the flickering embers from the fire, and replied, “Thank you for that warm welcome.”
Everyone then turned to Jack who had by this time taken out his guitar and was sitting back ready to start.
“I’ve been inspired to practice this next piece. I hope everyone enjoys it.”
And with that Jack took a gentle strum of the guitar, and then a few more creating a series of incredibly soft and perfect chords harmonizing to the flicker of the fire dancing below the fullest sky dome of stars Anne had ever seen since her childhood.
Then she heard his voice form perfect notes, “…Fire on the beach,..” and from that moment on Anne watched as Jack became the song, poetry in motion, she thought.
Jack continued to sing, “…tomorrow we’ll go…back to our lives… with sand in our hair, and song in our ears…”
After the fire pit and songs, as Anne and Jack slowed their walk, hand in hand, Anne slowly stopped, turned to Jack, and said, “This is it, my apartment building.”
Anne looked at Jack who looked up at the three-story brick building, and then down at Anne’s eyes looking at him. Jack looked back at Anne, at the symphony of greens and starlight flicker in her eyes, at her perfect nose, and how her lips were framed in the subtlest of the lightest thin line before transitioning into the rest of her skin.
The two slowly leaned into each other, as if a magnet had taken over until their lips just lightly touched.
Something strange happened next. It was as if they both lost thought of where they were, and that light touch turned into an incredibly deep kiss, unlike either had ever experienced.
Jack suddenly stepped back, taking a deep breath, and said, “Did you feel that, hear that sonic boom?”
Anne, caching her breath softly replied, as she shyly smiled, “Yes.”
The following Wednesday, Anne was focused on researching a proposal she had responded to and did not notice the growing reflection on her computer screen of someone walking slowly toward her.
As she worked through the DNA enzyme interactions, the pattern of cause and effect, her thoughts flickered between images of what the woods might have been like from the stories from her childhood that her mom told her of the farm in Brittany, and flickers of Sunday night, the beach fire with Jack and his friends, the songs. She thought, “Jack had me floating on clouds with those guitar riffs.”
A voice jolted her from the momentary daydream of the past Sunday.
“Are you doing anything Friday night? There’s a little hole-in-the-wall nightclub called The Backstage. They have the best acts and it’s a really small space, like a private concert with the artist. I understand you like music. Not a date. Think about it,” said Evan.
“Oh, hi Evan. Friday?” Anne thought about how much she enjoyed the time with Jack and his friends. She thought why not.
“You know, Evan, as long as we’re clear this is not a date, then yes. Thank you.”
Evan replied, “You’ll enjoy this place. It’s a local secret, an incredibly small and intimate venue. This Friday it’s hosting a special local artist. It’s scheduled to start at 8:00. Turns out this place is within walking distance of your apartment, so I could meet you and walk with you there if you’re okay with that.”
The muscles around Anne’s eyes slightly tightened as she paused, considering that Evan was all business and sincere, then relaxing the muscles at the sides of her eyes responded, “Evan, how kind of you. Sure, it would be nice to have your company on the walk. I’ll be ready at 7:30.”
That evening Anne and Evan walked along the sidewalk. Anne was very familiar with this neighborhood. It was the same walk she took every morning to get coffee.
Just a block shy of her now favorite coffee shop there were people walking along the sidewalk. Anne heard the sound of people talking. Evan stopped at an alley. Ten feet into the alley was a door to an establishment, that Anne thought could be a restaurant entrance.
Evan said, smiling, “This is it.”
Evan walked to the door reaching back with an open palm offering a hand to guide Anne. Anne reached out to hold Evan's hand as he walked through the door with Anne following into the dark interior.
As Anne’s eyes acclimated to the candlelit tables, she saw Evan give the hostess two tickets. The curly blond five-foot six-inch young woman behind the desk pointed to a table with two people sitting at it just one row behind the front row of four tables. Anne looked around to notice there couldn’t be more than twenty small tables each with four people sitting around it.
Evan grabbed Anne’s hand and gently led the way, traversing the tight spaces between the chairs of talking people. Evan pulled out a chair for Anne, who was looking around, taking in the ambiance of a nightclub, something she had never experienced.
Anne noticed Evan holding the chair. As she sat she whispered, “Thank you.”
Evan smiled and sat at the chair next to Anne.
Just then a voice came over the ceiling speakers, “Backstage guests, tonight we are honored to have one of Cambridge’s finest entertain us, Jack Messina.”
Anne thought, “Jack? My Jack? Jack from the coffee shop, from the evening at the beach? Messina? Is Jack related to Arcangela?”
Anne felt dizzy as the tall well-chiseled young man with black curly hair, black jeans and signature brown t-shirt carrying a guitar in one hand walked up to the tiny circular stage with a single stool and a thin metal three-foot pole holding a microphone. He paused ever-so-briefly, then sat as he raised his classic Spanish Córdoba guitar.
Looking down at a slight angle he slowly ever-so-slightly raised his hand to start.
From the first note Anne knew it was the same song from a few nights ago on the beach. Then after the strum of a few chords Jack’s smooth as honey voice started ever so softly, “Fire on the beach,..”
Anne felt like she was about to pass out.
She knew the lines, “…maybe this is just a dream… and maybe we’re still asleep….”
No part of this story may be transmitted or reproduced by any means or in any form, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording by any information storage or retrieval system, without the author’s written permission.
This story is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, and incidents that bear any resemblance to actual people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
