Rick and Mary.

I’m sipping coffee, and reading at the mega-bookstore. This guy walks in and plops down just over there, in the corner. He looks stressed. His hair looks stressed. First, he takes the extra chairs at his table, puts one at mine, distributes two others elsewhere… leaves one across from himself. He sets up for what’s about to take place. A meeting with the ex!
Minutes later, she strolls in… rain droplets all over her hair and jacket, and as she sits down she explains to him how she had to take a few buses to get here, mentions the rain and yadda yadda. He tells her how far away he parked and how much time is on his meter. Small talk that’s about to turn big. “Ding” goes an unheard bell.
I can’t help but overhear them but continue to attempt to read my book. They get right into talking about “the kid”… the daughter who visits the father periodically. Dad makes a few comments, while Mom takes out an actual wirebound notebook and begins to describe the way things are going to be! Things he is allowed to say (to their child). Things he’s not.
At first everything is extremely civil. They’re talking like two business people discussing the best way to approach a new venture, with special emphasis on what’s best for the client.
“I agree.”
“Yes, that’s fair.”
“Oh certainly!”
Then the mud rolls in. Much to the astonishment of my peripheral gaze, the guy begins to shift about and… get loud. The conversation takes several nasty turns. I’m embarassed for them right now. Many of us sitting nearby can’t help but hear. He begins to get specific. Apparently, in recent visits by Little Child, his privacy has been violated, and, case in point, his paycheck was observed. He thinks it was purposely done. She denies this. It all gets louder. No one notices (including myself) that I’ve been reading my book upside down for the last five minutes. He’s squirming really bad now, fuming, like a great storm that’s so close in upon you that there is very little delay between lightning and thunder. She knows he’s about to leave, and she pleads with him… “Rick, I’ve travelled across town to be here today, please we need to talk about these things.” But he’s already up, wrestling his coat on. I felt my heart go out to her in this moment.
He tells the whole room “Look Mary, I agreed to a conversation, and we’ve just had it!” She’s pleading even as he’s saying it… but he’s already gone, muttering and slapping the air behind himself, trying to find the left armhole. Gone. Jacket half-on, half-off.
Mary does not run after him. She sits with her head in her hands, looking down at the table. She turns to the girl in the next table (behind mine) and says “I’m sorry. We have to meet in a public place or else the meeting would not even last this long.”
This particular meeting was perhaps ten minutes.
The girl smiles at her and says “I’m all for you” and Mary says “I’m not even embarassed that you heard all of this, because I think of you as… a witness.”
She looks over at me and I give her my best Witness #2 smile.
She just walked away not even fifteen minutes ago, the time it has taken me to write this. Back on the bus. Soon, somewhere across town a babysitter will get to go home earlier than anticipated.
I feel sad for these people, Rick and Mary. And moreso for all three of them, the child being the third. And I wonder, how (or maybe “why” is a better question) do people get to this kind of a place in their lives? In my own life I seem to be so sheltered from having to deal with these type of issues. I turn my book rightside up and keep reading, the biggest problem presently on my plate being whether or nor I should go get a refill.