Right Face, Wrong Time

I first saw her face in the No-Name Coffee Shop. That's literally what it's called. The idiot owner told his best friend, Joe, "I don't want my place to be like those big-name coffee places. It's got to be more of a no-name place."

Of course, Joe quipped, "I dare you to call it No-Name Coffee Shop."

In case you haven't guessed it, I'm the idiot. I had been working in that very coffee shop and dabbling with online courses, not certain what to do with my life. About that time, my wealthy grandfather decided to divvy up part of his estate before passing away so he could watch us enjoy it. The shop went up for sale, so I bought it, all thanks to my grandfather. Swell guy. Needless to say, he gets his coffee free.

Back to the girl. She had a hood on, like she was hiding from the law. But her eyes. They were mesmerizing. I saw reflected in those deep blues both sadness and warmth. I wanted to get to know her right then. I wanted to wipe away the sadness and give her as many smiles as my grandfather had given me.

As she studied the menu on the wall, I studied her face more closely. I noticed her perfect, cute, kissable nose. She was licking her lips. Then, her mouth dropped open. My eyes snapped back to hers as I realized she caught me staring, damned near drooling.

She smirked. "Would you like to take a picture?"

Would I? I stumbled, "Sorry. I, uh..."

Her face lit up like a kid at Christmas. "Don't sweat it. I needed some levity today." She held out her hand. "I'm Olivia."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I shook her hand. "I'm Patrick. I'm, uh..." I decided to go for it. "I'm enchanted. Olivia, may I sit with you for a bit if I buy your coffee?'

"Won't your boss object?"

"Naw, he's cool." I turned to my only employee at the moment. "Cindy, you can do without me for a bit, right?"

Cindy winked. "I think I'll manage."

I filled Olivia's order and poured myself my favorite dark roast.

Sitting with her felt like coming home. We talked about art and movies and books. I already knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Olivia. It was magical.

Finally, an hour later, she said, "I'd better go. Thank you for the coffee. It was really nice meeting you, Patrick."

"Wait a minute. I need to take you on a proper date. Please, give me your number."

There it was again. The sadness. "Oh, my God, you're married."

"No."

"With someone?"

"No."

"Then what's holding you back?"

Her face searched mine, her expression shifting from sadness to pity to resolution. She shrugged. "Nothing. I'd be happy to go out with you."

We exchanged numbers. I suggested meeting at the park the following afternoon. We'd walk and then go out to dinner.

I changed clothes three times preparing for that date. No, it wasn't a first impression, but it felt like it. My heart was hammering away like a bass drum in a metal band. I was pacing by the flagpole when she breezed into sight. Gone was the hood. Her hair, a dark brown, cascaded to her shoulders with soft curls. She wore a soft, flowy pair of pants and a cropped top, teasing me with that bit of skin. Her smile gave that drummer the go-ahead to crash a cymbal.

I held out my arms and we hugged. I wished I could have prolonged it. I told her, "You look like a painting."

"You look mighty nice yourself."

We walked slowly around the park perimeter, savoring our conversation and each other's company. When we were nearly back where we started, I held out my hand. She took it with a pained expression that vanished as quickly as it materialized. We walked hand-in-hand.

"I...I..." she stammered, "I have something to tell you.

"Come here." I pulled her to a bench and sat facing her. "What is it? Just tell me."

"Patrick, I'm terminal."

My hand covered my mouth. I looked her in the eyes, hoping this was a sick joke.

I took both of her hands. "Cancer?" She nodded.

"We can fight it. I'll help."

She shook her head. "They've done all they can." She pulled her wig off to show what little had grown back after chemotherapy.

It was no joke.

I couldn't believe how off my timing was. I had finally met the woman of my dreams, only to discover I wouldn't have her for long. Suddenly, my course of action was clear. "Olivia, I'm going to stand by you and make you as happy as I can for as long as I can. Cancer be damned."

She pulled me into a hug, and this time, it was prolonged. Then, I kissed her - gently at first - and then deeper, stronger. When we finally came up for air, I said, "We will be doing a lot more of that and then some."

She giggled and nodded. I gave her one more gentle kiss. Then I added, "...but first, let's go get some food."

I'd like to say that this story ended happily, with a grand miracle of recovery, but then it wouldn't be about bad timing.

My angel, my Olivia, was with me for 18 glorious days, at which point she became a different kind of angel.

It was horrible timing, but that beautiful face will stay with me for the rest of my life.