Free Muffin and a Broken Heart

“Hey? Are you even still listening to me?” She scowled. “Or would you rather be lost in your tea? I can read the leaves for you if it’s easier, it’s over.”

I swirled my tea around again. She was right. Damn, why is she always right? I was trying to get lost in the swirl. I don’t know, maybe I just have a thing for downward spirals, both in caffeinated beverages and life paths.

I mustered my courage and with all the ferocity of an embarrassed church mouse squeaked “I just don’t understand, why now? I thought things were going swell!”

“Swell? Of course you’d say swell! Who are you, Dean Martin greeting his lounge guests for the night?”

Thud, another kick to my stomach while I was down. Sadness erupted from within as outward sarcasm. “Well, sorry! I can say ‘so well’ if it’s more agreeable to you.” My jaded tone rose her eyebrows in a look of superiority so I tried to compensate by exposing a bit of heartfelt desire for explanation. “Forget it. Mel, do you mind explaining to me where this went off the rails so I don’t have to roll it around in my head every night for the next couple of months?”

This could very well be the last time I see her for months until we run into each other at some Hawaiian night somewhere. The last thing I want to do is to feel blindly inadequate holding a Tiki mug.

“Ahh, I believe your sarcasm shield has finally has been lowered. Well, if you have to know, it was alright up until the owl.”

My whole face perked up. For the first time since we sat down, I became aware of my surroundings. Out of all the cafes I’ve been broken up in, this was a highlight. It was one of those cafes located on a corner of an intersection, with large windows at the end of each booth so professionals on their way to a busy day of work could catch a glimpse of someone like me gobbling down a danish. Bulbous Edison lights hung low above our heads and Ella Fitzgerald rang out around us. The barista’s curious eyes locked with mine for a second before quickly darting away to the stir sticks. I turned back to Mel as she was taking a bite out of a coffee dunked biscotti.

“Or I guess more like when the Owl left.” She added, incoherent words and biscotti crumbs spraying out with every syllable.

“Oh, that’s just great. Bested by an owl, just my luck.” I squirmed in my chair. She silently acknowledged my sarcasm with her eyes; I retreated from my ostentatious deflection and tried to cut through with genuine feeling. “Did you meet someone else?”

“Yes, I did. As I said, I met Henry then I started seeing our relationship differently.”

That’s it, sincerity isn’t going to work, back to the old faithful contemptuous tone. “Henry? I guess I was never good at killing mice and you basically have eyes on the back of your head so I imagine you two would make a great couple. Is that what two birds are called or is it a murder ?”

“Oh please, don’t get poetic on me. A murder is a group of crows and if you must know a group of owls is called a parliament but you’re the one acting much a politician today.”

What can I say? She was wittier than me. I never cared for saving the relationship but now even the promise of winning the conversation didn’t interest me as much. Nothing compared to my new beguiling avian competitor.

“I’m sorry, I’m quite lost. An owl showed up, left, and now we have to stop seeing each other?”

“More or less.” She said nonchalantly, gently swirling her spoon around in her cup. “I think it first showed up about a month ago when you left for that weekend getaway with Jamie; fishing trip or whatever.”

“Was it at least a nice-looking owl? Not one of those scruffy ear-tufted ones, eh? If I can say so myself Mel, you deserve a nice tawny or barn variety. I could even see you with a Snowy–”

“Oh Nolan,” She interrupted. “Even at the end you’re making jokes.”

“Jokes?” I coughed out. “You’re the one who is leaving me for an owl!” I couldn’t help it. My dam had burst. My voice harsh and my face serious. Mel slowly relaxed back into the padded booth and took a sip from her mug. Her long slender hands caressed the cup and strangled the conversation. She had me; plain, bare and sincere. ‘She feeds off caffeine and discomfort’ I thought.

“I’m not leaving you for the owl.” I don’t know what I dreaded more, the uncomfortable silence or her words of derision cutting through it. “You see, when you left that weekend, I had a couple of quiet nights in my apartment to myself. So, the first night I decided to just sit back and watch some TV in bed. Well, I fell asleep watching a show without closing the blinds to that window beside my bed and I woke up to sunlight spraying in. For some reason, I just laid there looking up at all the other tall apartment complexes, their reflective windows mesmerizing me for what had to be half an hour. Just as I was about to get up and start the day, an owl flew right by my window and settled on a ledge of that old decrepit building next to mine; you know the one? The glove factory that always creeped you out –”

“In my defence, Frolic & Fingers is not a good name for a glove company–”

“Hence why it’s decrepit. Anyway, I end up just sitting there, confounded with this owl for about an hour. A little brown owl somehow in the middle of the city. He seemed really quite content in his nest, just prodding around and rearranging bits and pieces that he picked up off the street.”

“Are you all done with that?” The barista was at the side of our table, pointing to Mel’s empty cup and plate full of crumbs. A thin veil of professionalism covering her curiosity of how our breakup was transpiring.

“Yes, thank you.” Mel said with a smile on her face and mind elsewhere. She waited for the barista to leave earshot before continuing in a hushed tone that magnetically dragged me towards her. “You see, I was so enamored by this bird that the next night I left my blinds open to watch it the following morning. I guess it became a morning routine for me; this was about the time Henry got his name. Brew a cup, make my bed, and watch Henry for an hour or two.” She paused and fiddled with her sleeves.

Throughout her whole story, we hadn’t made any eye contact, always looking over each other’s shoulders or down towards the ground. Serendipitously, she checked to see if I had completely checked out and our eyes met. I felt a slight smirk of acknowledgment seep out of my lips and she pressed on. “When you came back, my routine didn’t change all that much. I thought about closing the blinds when you slept over at mine, but you leave so early for work and the earlier start to the day was doing me good, so I kept leaving them open. We hardly ever sleep over at yours but I even thought of purchasing a webcam to watch Paul if I were to–”

“Paul?” I interjected.

“Henry’s friend. He used to fly over and mull about his nest somedays.” She explained, as serious as can be.

“Ah, I see.”

“Anyway, I didn’t end up needing to. You see, neither Henry or Paul have showed in the past week. Nothing, nada. I even bought a pair of binoculars the other day to check out Henry’s dwelling and it looks all torn up and abandoned.”

“What do you think happened.” I implored, with a slight tinge of embarrassment at how engrossed I was.

“Who knows? Rival birds, some other creatures or strong winds. Either way he hasn’t been back and I don’t think he will be. He’s moved on.”

We sat in silence for a bit, the muddy pool of words she’d dropped on me swirling around my feet and rising as I tried to pick it apart. Owls, nests and binoculars? Who was I even dating? Well, I guess, was dating?

Mel promptly put her purse on the table and searched for her wallet.

“Mel, let me grab this one.”

“It’s the rules, the breaker-uper has the pay. No protests. You get a free muffin and a broken heart from me and that’s that.”

Witty and poignant, that was Mel.

“So, why did this have to end then?” I asked. “What does Henry have to do with us?”

“Well, I don’t know and will never know what happened to Henry. Sometimes I think, maybe he just took a second to take in it all in. His nest that was adequate and his middling friend Paul probably seemed like enough to him but perhaps there were no rival birds or creatures. Perhaps one day, reality set in and he realised he was living on the ledge of a crummy old building with scraps he brought up from the street. Perhaps, he finally realised he wanted something different and left. Perhaps...” She had more to say but made a visible effort to contain herself.

We sat in silence for a bit, my feet fidgeting around and her pulling on her sleeves again. Just as she was about to reach for her jacket, I let out “Perhaps Paul was a lady owl, you can’t tell from that far away can you? And Henry never came back to the nest to get away from Paulina.”

“Exactly, who knows?” Mel responded, slipping her hands into her gloves. “Well Nolan, see you around. God knows we’ll bump into each other in the most inopportune times. Thanks for talking with me after we got past the verbal sparring.”

“You’re a worthy opponent but I’m no match for you. Thanks for everything.” I said endearingly and gave her a hug. I sat back down and watched the cars stream by.

By the time I got up to leave, a new barista was stationed at the cash. I gave a small smile to him, the most of a smile you can give when you’ve just been dumped, and pushed the door open onto the windy streets. Crisp autumn air swooshed by and the smell of city rose around me.

It was far out of my way, but I decided to walk by the glove factory on the way back to mine. Large crevasses gashed the old brick walls and spray paint scratches dressed the bottom of the building. I looked up at the myriad of ledges around the old adorned windows and pillars. I was walking by a ledge facing what would be Mel’s building when I saw him. Lying perfectly still and cold in brush below one of the high ledges was a small brown owl. Beside him were a couple of small scraps of garbage and twigs that looked arranged. I looked up at that old yellow and green sign with large black script ‘Frolic & Fingers’.

“Always did creep me out.” I muttered and turned back towards home.