The coffee shop was crowded. I hadn't been in place with this many people since the pandemic started. I was still trying to maintain proper social distancing. I gave a wide berth to three high school kids, all wannabe influencers taking up too much space around the counter.
As I circled them, I peeked over their shoulders to see what they were capturing on their phones. Being over 6-feet has advantages. Because I wasn't looking where I was going, I banged into somebody.
"Hey!" It was a woman's voice, "Watch where...Oh that's just great!" She was angry.
I had carelessly bumped into a woman who was leaving the counter with a cold drink, maybe iced coffee. But most of it was now on the floor, or soaking the front of her cream colored blouse.
"I'm so sorry," I said quickly, "It was my fault. Stay there, I'll grab some napkins."
Squeezing through people waiting for beverages, I snatched a fist-full of paper products. She was still standing there with a bewildered look. Liquid dripped from her right hand that was clutching the half-empty cup. She looked up at me as I handed her a few of the napkins. Then I bent down and started sopping up what was on the floor.
When I straightened back up, she still hadn't moved. I towered over her. She couldn't have been more than 5 feet tall. And she looked like a lost, sad, and slightly damp kitten.
"Are you okay?" I asked in a repentant tone. "I'm so sorry."
"You said that already," she replied sadly. "But look at me."
I looked. I liked what I saw. She was nicely dressed, except for the stain. She was wearing red lipstick, which showed up beautifully against her black skin. Even though her eyes weren't happy, they drew me in.
"Here," I said, gently taking her by the arm. "Let's move out of the middle of the room and get you cleaned up."
I guided her to an open table. She didn't resist as I helped her sit down. I threw away the wad of wet napkins I was clutching, and went to get some more. When I returned, she was dabbing at her wet blouse, so I just laid the additional napkins on the table next to her.
"What were you drinking?" I asked, pointing to the cup. "I'm going to buy you a new one."
"Forget it."
"No, come on. It's the least I can do. And I'll pay for your blouse to be cleaned."
"Never mind that either. This was just the perfect end to a crappy day." she said bitterly.
"It's 10:30. How can it be so crappy already? Things could turn around by lunch time."
That was when she started crying. She bowed her head, so I couldn't see her face, but her shoulders were shaking. Even as a guy I could tell this was probably not a positive sign.
"Hey," I said soothingly, as I took the chair opposite her. "How bad could things be?"
I heard sniffling, and she took some more napkins to dab at her eyes. Finally, she took a ragged breath and answered me.
"I had a job interview this morning, and it didn't go well."
"How do you know?"
"I know...I been going through this for a year."
"Well...you look nice."
She raised her head and glared at me.
"Don't patronize me."
I raised my hands defensively. "I'm not. You're dressed like someone who deserves a job. You look competent and well put together. Seriously."
"Thank you, I guess," she said grudgingly. "I came in here and wasted money I don't have, on a fancy drink. And I end up wearing it."
I smiled. I couldn't help myself. She saw it before I could push the smile away.
"It's not funny."
"I agree. I was just thinking that you look cute even when stained."
Her lips tightened. "Don't toy with me. What do you think this is? The day when tall white man swoops in to save poor little black girl?"
I looked around nervously, hoping no one could hear any of this. "Little black girl" made it sound like she was a child. She was maybe 10 or 15 years younger than me. Since I'm 58, this wasn't exactly pedophilia.
"Let's start again," I countered. "My name is Dow...and you are....?"
"Dow? Like the stock exchange? What kind of name is that?"
I felt my face flush, more with irritation than embarrassment. "I...um...it's a family name. You can call me Henry if you prefer. That's my legal first name. Dow's my middle name. Or you can just ignore me altogether."
She softened. "What I said was mean. I'm taking my bad day out on you. My name's Nikki."
"Nikki," I repeated. "I like that name. It's a pleasure to meet you...and ruin your clothes."
"Funny," she couldn't hide a smile.
"I like that smile. Maybe I could see more of it."
"Get me a job and you might."
"What are your skills...besides looking great for interviews?"
She smiled again, and then told me what she did. I didn't really catch the details because I was looking at her. Watching her eyes, the way she wore her hair, how her lips moved, how she gestured with her hands, and that there wasn't a ring on her left one. I noticed my stomach rumbling, and had an idea.
"Since you won't let me buy you a coffee or get your clothes cleaned, let me take you to lunch."
She frowned. "Yeah, no. I'm not going to lunch with stained clothes. Besides, I've got stuff to do at home."
"Then how about dinner tonight?"
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."