Lay Down in the Tall Grass

Lay Down in the Tall Grass - Timber Timbre(listen in new tab)

Saturday morning, at 6:00 AM, the city has barely taken its first deep breath before it yawns away.

Claire, bleary eyed, puts the key in the front door of Café Ulysses. Locks the door behind her. The room is dark, clean from the night before. She hangs her coat on one of the hooks in the back. She drops a CD in to the stereo. A slender finger presses the worn play button.

Early mornings are rote, a pattern that has etched itself into her muscles and the cells of her brain. She puts on the first carafes of coffee. Wanders to the fridge, brings out the cream. She takes the carton with her as she heads to the back exit, pushing the heavy door open.

A small cracked ceramic Mickey Mouse dish sits on the littered ground in the back alley. She hears excited mewing as she pours and disappears back inside.

Then she opens the heavy blinds of the large front windows. April spring’s sun rushes in.

It’s the fifth or sixth Saturday in a row. Since she took over the café, she’s seen more of this place than anywhere. Claire doesn’t miss the late nights at V.I. Lenin’s or the breakfasts at Cymbeline’s or the sweaty thump of the 5 Oh. No. This morning, the city has eyes tight with sleep. It’s still adrift, but she is already at the helm. Once there, she never takes her hands off the wheel.

Danielle will be here in half an hour. No need to unlock the door. She’s in no hurry to share the isolation. The quiet gives her space. She sets about righting the chairs, opening the safe, getting the cashier tray ready.

She lets her mind climb across the lattice work of columns and numbers that are the café’s ledgers. The books are often on her mind. She’s memorized them. They are Ulysses’ cold, nagging synecdoche.

She worries. Much is black, too much is red. Frustrating infections that Esther had let fester. Things have gotten better. Claire has cleared some debts with suppliers. Brought in some new customers. Even allowed the creep of seasonal decorations to further its encroachment. But, better isn’t good enough. Not if the doors are to stay open.

Later when Danielle arrives, Claire is surprised by the knock on the door’s glass pane.

Opening the door Claire smiles, happy now to have company: “Good morning, dear.”

Danielle rubs her eyes, her dark skinned hands balled up just a little. “How can you be like this, this early?”

Claire: “Go out last night?”

Danielle gives a dry, impeached smile: “Haven’t been home yet.” She ties on an apron, and leans on the counter.

Claire sighs, turns the door sign to “Open.” They share a coffee, and then they wait.

The morning passes. A slow slide show of indolent customers , in a chopped succession: appearing, staying, going, ordering. Another day too far from steady.

Danielle does her job with an acquired poise. She’s funny half the time and regularly explodes with a characteristic deep, honest laugh. She is the queen of the ironic “Boss” and “Ma’am.” She’s ok, but Claire misses working with K. He’s been working almost full-time at the library and so he has worked less and less at Ulysses. Danielle is here almost all the time now

There have been other new faces. Jason came and quit soon after. There was a showdown of some sort. Claire won. Hera replaced him. She works majestically, but not enough hours. Claire makes a note to push her to come in more. And there is the very new hire, Zoe. She has promise. There are a few others, who’d been around forever, but who are slowly leaving, in grief over Esther absence or just moving on.

It’s not a bad roster, but one or two more solid hires would mean she could sleep in one or two weekend mornings a month.

Mid morning: G.T. and Brae come through for coffee on their way to do some shopping. Claire has barely seen G.T. since February. They’ve both been busy. Brae’s eyes are warm, but like a morning’s red sun. G.T. said she knows nothing, but sometimes those big brown eyes look like they know everything. There is small talk.

G.T.: “What’s new? Huh?”

Claire: “Not much. I pretty much live here, now. How’re things with you?”

G.T.: “Good. They got me on the road a lot at work. I went to Hong Kong last week. Before you say anything, it sucked. Spent the whole time in the hotel. Jetlag. Meetings. Sleep. Taxi. Plane. That’s it.”

Claire: “Sounds like my life, these days. Except no hotels, planes, taxis , meetings, or exotic locales.”

Brae comes back from the washroom. “Hey Claire. What’s up?”

Claire: “I was just saying –”

Brae: “G.T. was saying that we should double date sometime to catch up.” G.T. sips his coffee. He looks indicted. “You can bring that doctor fellow. He was cute.”

Claire: “That guy? Our schedules just didn’t match. I guess it didn’t work out. That was weeks ago.”

Brae: “Well, we’ll figure something out. Later.” And out they go.

Eventually, Zoe replaces Danielle. Hera comes mid afternoon. Then K at 5:00 to help Hera close.

It’s 6:00pm by the time Claire leaves. At 6:53 she stumbles on the stairs to her front door. Sbeckett is there. His eyes are cold. She decides the old cat has figured out about the ones she feeds in the alleys.

She looks down at him as he waits for her to open the door. “Is it that I give them cream and not you, or is it that I do it at all?” Sbeckett ignores her and darts in.

Claire falls asleep on the couch, after eating leftover pasta. The TV’s light paints her face with fluid blue light and shadows. A thin smile curls the corners of her mouth. Her roommate wakes her up around 11:00. Claire drags herself to bed and lies there. Sbeckett jumps up onto he duvet, slumps down beside her. She rubs his neck. He purrs.

She thinks endlessly about Ulysses. Her eyes slacken and close. The black-red mess is slowly smudged into a map with points charted. It’s a clear path. All she needs now is the wind.