Outside it was 3 in the afternoon, but inside of the bar it was already evening. A sunbeam attempted to squeeze through a crack in the wooden shutters, its efforts defeated by a coat rack occupying the space.
A young woman with short blonde hair was talking to an older gentleman with an aquiline nose. They spoke loudly over the Sunday resident band, Dr. Chester and the Unwelcome Compliments.
“So how often were you docked?” Marie asked.
“Oh, once every week,” Gary said. “It was a cargo ship, so we stopped at different ports to deliver crates and what not.”
“What sort of cargo did it carry?”
“You know I don’t know. Maybe shirts or clothing or something of that sort. I never asked.”
“You lived on a cargo ship for eight months, and you didn’t ask what it was carrying?”
Gary laughed and a small drop of beer splattered in his shirt collar. “I guess I didn’t,” he said. He lifted his glass and his eyebrows simultaneously, and Marie smiled.
“Let me buy this round,” she said.
“No, no, please. I insist.”
As Gary walked over to the bar Marie turned to listen to the band. Dr. Chester played a bright red keyboard with his eyes closed, and his microphone glistened with spit. A couple twirled and swayed, singing the lyrics to one another. Their crow’s feet stretched and crawled with the pronunciation. Oh, Maggie I couldn’t have tried anymore…
“I hate this song,” Gary said as he handed a beer to Marie.
“Why, does it remind you of someone?”
Gary laughed. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
“I think I went to school with the bassist,” Marie said. He looks so familiar but I don’t know why.”
“He’s a good-looking kid. You should ask him out,” Gary said, pulling out a stool for himself.
“So, what are you working on all day at the café?”
Gary’s eyes became wide. “Oh, it’s my newest project! I’m developing a novel-writing software.”
Marie looked at him and furrowed her brow.
“This one’s going to be big,” he said. “The user will be able to produce a quality novel in under a month. First, I must finish the software; then I must use it to write a novel.” He conducted the air without a baton.
“What’s your book going to be about,” Marie asked.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said,” I have to work out a few kinks with the coding.”
“Well, I’d love to read it when it’s finished,” Marie said.
“What about you? Did you always know you wanted to be a barista?”
Marie laughed. “Yes. I worked very hard to get here and now I’m here.” She took a long sip of beer and grimaced. “I don’t think I like this one as much.”
Gary studied her face. She had a round chin and angular lips. Her nose was lightly freckled, and dark circles cradles her amber eyes. She smelled like coffee beans.
“When I was your age I wanted to be an actor,” he said. “I even bought a leather jacket.”
“How old do you think I am?” Marie asked.
“22, 23?”
“Well I’m 25,” she said.
“Ah, yes. Excuse me,” Gary said. “At 25 I wanted to be Hugh Hefner.”
Marie took another sip of beer and stared into the foamy, golden liquid. “I just pictured things going very differently, I guess. I just thought I would be somewhere else.”
“Then go be there,” Gary said.
Marie smiled. “It’s not that simple. I have responsibilities here. I can’t just leave. Not right now, at least.”
“So, what’s your escape plan?” Gary asked.
Marie looked at him. “I’m trying to figure that out, but it scares the shit out of me. Sometimes, when I’m about to fall asleep at night, I think about moving away. I picture myself living in an apartment alone across the country. I see a little white coffee table and a faux rug underneath of it. I see myself walking to work as the sun is setting behind me. The sun is always setting in these scenarios.”
“Well that sounds wonderful,” Gary said.
“Yes, but, then I become very afraid. I’m suddenly alone at night in a foreign city where I don’t speak the language. I’m lost in an alley without my phone. I feel an intense fear that I can’t explain. My heart starts racing and I can’t fall asleep.”
“You know how they say that it’s never too late?” Gary asked.
Marie laughed, “Yes, yes, I know.”
“It’s not true,” he said. “Sometimes it is too late. It’s definitely too late.”
“What are you saying?” Marie asked, smiling.
“You should take advantage of those moments that make your heart beat. Those are the real ones. We don’t get much proof of existence over here.”
“I wish I could talk like this with my therapist,” Marie said.
Gary laughed. “You kids and your therapists.”
“Would you like another beer?” Marie asked.
Non Epiphany 