Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5
She pressed her lips together. Amused, but not.
“Nothing?” he asked.
She shook her head. Then she said, “Well, all right. Bellini interests me for several reasons. I’ll give you two. He was the teacher of the first painter I ever loved: Titian. And Albrecht Dürer called him one of the great painters of the Renaissance. Durer happens to be my idea of perfect genius.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Ben said. “I don’t have anything on them, though.”
“What’s the point of this?” she asked.
After a moment, a reply fell into his head, and he liked that it sounded reflective instead of pitiful. “I’m feeling expansive due to being preemptively dumped this morning.”
“Oh?” she said, and maybe it impressed her that he would admit such a thing.
“Next topic?” he offered.
“Suit yourself.”
“Astronomy.”
She looked just above his head, poker-faced.
“Go,” she said.
“Well, maybe something else,” he said. “Maybe —”
“No,” she said flatly. “Astronomy.”
He shrugged. “Fine.” Actually, he had nothing in his head that sounded remotely interesting, astronomy-wise.
“I’ll go then,” she said. “Does the name Carolyn Porco mean anything to you?”
“She’s an astronomer,” he guessed.
“Anything else?”
He shrugged again, relieved merely to be engaged in the conversation; though he was beginning to feel something like heat coming off of Candace’s gaze. Maybe it was her brain in hyper mode. She started talking about the planet Saturn. How this Carolyn Porco made a startling discovery from the data sent back to earth by a probe some years ago. How the rings of Saturn consisted of all kinds of ice and rocks and blank spaces that Porco discovered were not random blank spaces but something ordered. Candace was using her hands to demonstrate the movement of the moons of Saturn and how some of those moons kept the rings in place. Her hands’ circling motions were making Ben slightly dizzy.
“Shepherd moons,” Candace said, her face calm but her voice full of breathy wonder. “Brilliant name for them.” It was not an observation but a fact: The name was brilliant. She may have forgotten he was standing there. But then she turned her gaze back on him and finished: “They orbit Saturn and keep all this debris in orderly rings. Orderly rings that are visible from Earth, hundreds of millions of miles away.”
Ben was leaning against the counter now, half awed by Candace’s calm enthusiasm and half suffering from a sudden onset of headache. He rubbed his eyes and then blinked, trying to play it off as profound interest in what she’d told him.
“So,” he said, blinking, “you’d like to be the next Carolyn P —?”
“Porco. No. I love the idea of shepherd moons. That’s the main draw for me. And anything that puts me in mind of how small our mundane concerns are.” She gestured around the shop. “Coffee and pastries and customers.” Now her expression said, “I can’t possibly give too much of a damn.”
Ben, eager to show that he got it, nodded and laughed. He pushed himself away from the counter and started to say something about not giving a damn, but then he had to grab at the counter again. He winced as his stomach made a hollow noise. The room suddenly got very shady.
“Steady,” Candace said.
Her face went out of focus as his knees began to buckle. She took his arm and led him away, having to support almost his full weight for one second. When his backside met with the cushion of a chair, he knew he was sitting at the small supervisor’s desk in the back. The room sharpened into focus for him. Candace had gone back out front and he heard water running into a cup. She brought it back and handed it to him and told him to drink. His hand shook as it lifted the cup to his lips. It didn’t seem like it was his hand. The water tasted good even at room temperature. He set it on the desk and then put his head down on his arms and closed his eyes. He couldn’t help it.
“Have a nice day,” he heard Candace say out front. He listened to the door open and close, and then to the sounds of Candace moving around in the dining area, pushing the chairs in, sliding the napkin dispenser and salt and pepper shakers to center. He felt the blood returning slowly to his face. He moved his arms and settled his cheek against the cool metal desktop. Candace’s voice called to him from out front. “Okay back there?”
He managed, “Mm-hmm.”
Fifteen minutes later, she came back and pulled a chair up next to him. He sat up, feeling steadier but not ready to stand up. She looked at him as if inventorying his face. “How are you getting back to your dorm?” She seemed to be speaking to herself.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I can finish the shift.”
“No. Not going to happen,” she said. “Lucky for you it’s dead. And lucky the old man is gone for the day. Just sit here for now.”
The front door bell clanged, and Candace blew a quiet raspberry. She went out and waited on customers. The sound of her working was like therapeutic white noise. Though at one point Ben heard a woman’s voice say, “Ma’am, I ordered decaf and this clearly is not decaf.” To which Candace replied, “I’m sure I poured decaf, but I’ll pour you another.” A moment later, she stuck her head into the back and stage-whispered in Ben’s direction, “Harpy!”
Thirty minutes later, Ben was feeling almost normal, having drunk more water and having eaten — because Candace insisted — a croissant and a sugary scone. He’d insisted two more times to Candace that he could continue working, but she made him stay seated. He felt mothered in a way that both comforted and embarrassed him. Whatever slim opportunity he’d envisioned to impress Candace was gone. A shame, since he now felt a reckless urge to tell her outright that he loved her, at least in the playful way he imagined friendly co-workers might do.
About Patrick Kelly Joyner
