I’m finding as I’m getting older that I enjoy coffee more throughout the day – not just in the morning. And we’re talking plain, black coffee. Don’t get me wrong, this time of year I will straight-up murder a Pumpkin Spice Latte… but plain black coffee – hot or iced – has become de rigeur most days. And it’s not the caffeine either – that really doesn’t do much for me. Part of it is the ritual of making coffee. Part of it is legitimately the enjoyment of a really well made cup. Anyway, let’s just say I appreciate Frank and Maggie’s ritual.
The toaster popped just after the coffee maker chirped its readiness. Frank smiled. Sometimes the toaster popped first, sometimes – like today – it was the other way around. In his mind he imagined them in a daily race, the toast popping up after the coffee maker had already given its victory chirp, but they both shook their electrical cables like good sports and the toaster smiles and says to the coffee maker, “I’ll get you tomorrow…”
“I know, Maggie,” he said aloud as the two sunny-side-up eggs reached the perfect consistency and he slid them onto a waiting plate with a practiced tilt of the pan. “I’m just an old sentimental fool.” He quietly thanked the toaster and wished it luck tomorrow as he removed both slices of sourdough toast, applied butter and set them next to the eggs along with two rashers of bacon.
He picked up the warm plate and pulled the insulated carafe from the coffee maker while whispering, “Good showing today…” and moved carefully to the kitchen table where two mugs sat at two place settings across from each other. He placed the plate down in front of him and poured coffee in the far mug first, before filling his own.
“Yes, yes, Maggie, you’ll just have coffee today,” he said with a smile at the empty seat. He picked up his own coffee mug and blew across the steaming black liquid. “Careful, it’s hot…” And then he set the mug down, settled his napkin in his lap, took up his fork, broke his yolk and started to eat.
“Jalen is coming over later – he’s taking me to get my tattoo today.” He paused and then said, “I know, finally, right? You’d like the tattoo artist – she’s got a great dry sense of humor. You’d like her.”
Frank’s one-sided conversation dropped off as he sopped up the last of his yolk with a corner of the toast. He popped the last bit of bacon in his mouth, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and then stood up with a creak that seemed to get worse every day. Pausing a moment he said aloud reflexively, “I’m fine…” then more quietly to just himself but with less certainty, “…I’m fine…” He brushed the crumbs into the trash can before slotting the plate and his mug into the mostly empty dishwasher.
“Hey dad!” Jalen called as he came through the front door.
“Hey son!” Frank called back as he closed the dishwasher and wiped his hands on the dishtowel. “I’m in the kitchen.”
Jalen came into the room and immediately crossed to give Frank a quick hug. “You ready?” he asked as his eyes took in the tidy kitchen. His gaze stopped on the mug of cooling coffee still on the table and he deflated just a little bit. “Dad? You’re pouring coffee for mom? It’s been five years…”
“Yes, and she’s still the best coffee date ever,” he retorted as he moved to the freezer.
“You’re not still making breakfast for her, are you?”
“Nah,” Frank said dismissively as he scooped ice cubes into an insulated mug. “I admit that was a waste of food…” he conceded.
“But not a waste of coffee?” Jalen laughed as he looked at the cup.
“Not at all,” Frank said, moving to the table and pouring the full coffee mug into the insulated mug. “I hope you don’t mind, dear,” he spoke quietly to the empty seat, then turned to Jalen as he put the lid on the mug. “See? Iced coffee. I hear all the kids are doing it these days.”
Jalen laughed. “Alright, dad… Let’s go. Your appointment is at 10, right?”
“Yep,” Frank said as they moved towards the door.
The toaster won the next day.
“Better luck tomorrow,” Frank said to the coffee maker as he carried his plate and the carafe to the table. He poured Maggie’s mug and then his own and then sat and started to eat.
“Yes, yes, Maggie, you’ll just have coffee today,” he said with a smile at the empty seat. He picked up his own coffee mug and blew across the steaming black liquid. “Careful, it’s hot…” And then he set the mug down, settled his napkin in his lap, took up his fork, broke his yolk and started to eat.
“Mmm,” he started as he swallowed a bite of egg, “They said it would hurt, but it really didn’t. Not much anyway.” Then a few moments later, “You’d like it.” He smiled sadly.
He popped the last bit of bacon in his mouth, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and then stood up with a creak. “I’m fi—” he cut off his rehearsed line as he looked across to the empty chair, the place setting… and the empty mug across from his. “Oh…”
