The Computer Lady

Good morning. I mess around with the traditional POV patterns in this one, and I definitely break rules, but I like the result. It gets interesting...fun little story with a great twist. Hope you like it. A fiction sample for you... Check out my books on Amazon. Have a good day, whatever you're getting into! Never know what might happen. :) Trying to let the universe take over, but it's hard sometimes. ;) Love to you, C.A.

The Computer Lady

Grunting, The Computer Lady always arrived at Bumble Bee Cafe after lunchtime; she appeared around two in the afternoon. She was nearly forty-five years old, and her too-long, frosted bangs blended into her shoulder length, patchy-frosted hair. Sometimes she resembled a scarecrow. Short with small breasts, she wore a little extra roll around her middle, because every now and then, she enjoyed a Bumble Bee pastry. Sometimes she wore lightly tinted, Janis Joplin style glasses. Other days, she showed her face. But one thing never varied -- every day, after slowly eating her lunch (tuna salad on wheat, cup of soup), she sat and stared at her computer for hours. She drank water. From time to time, she asked the server, Jim, for more water. Mostly, she demanded it. Water, more water.

Several times, Jim had thought that she might need a hose attached to her lips.

Computer Lady raised the glass and shook the ice. No words at first. But when no one immediately responded, she changed her ways, and she began to scream. "Where is my water?"

Jim tried to keep the glass full to avoid the inevitable scene, but he'd been busy with the end of a lunch rush, so he'd been a little distracted. "I'll be right with you," he answered. Quickly, he found a full pitcher and refilled her glass.

An hour or so later, Jim thought she was gone, so he cleared her table, taking her water glass with the plate, the fork, the knife, the soup spoon, and the always-wet napkin. But that was the wrong move, he found out. Way wrong.

Suddenly, Computer Lady returned from nowhere and yelled, "Where the hell is my water?" She yelled it loud enough for every customer to hear.

Heads turned.

"I'll get you another one. So sorry," Jim said quietly, hoping his tone would soothe her. "I thought you were gone."

She muttered, "Hmmphhh," shaking her head with disgust. "You always assume I'm gone. It's not right."

Jim grinned and hurried to get her another water. With lemon.

She went back to her computer.

When it was time to close, Jim took the check to her. Seemed like the thing to do. He'd been doing the same thing for years.

She looked up and yelled, "Do I have to pay this NOW?"

"Well, we are closing," he whispered. "We always close at six. You know that."

"Hmmmphh," she said, handing him her credit card.

After Jim rang the card, he took the slip over to her. Again, it seemed like the natural course of events.

When she saw the slip, she scowled at Jim and asked, "Do I have to sign this NOW?"

"Uh, that'd be great," he muttered, trying to hold back a chuckle. She wasn't just simply rude. She was beyond rude. He'd seen it before, but it usually wasn't that bad.

After Jim finished rolling his silverware at the Bumble Bee, he had some time to kill before he met up with his friends, so he headed to Lucky Dog Coffee for a shot. Then he glanced to his right, and there she was again. The Computer Lady. As always, she was sitting by herself, staring at her computer, drinking water.

Jim called out to her, "Hi there, I just saw you. I work at the Bumble Bee...you know, where you just were. You writing a novel on there?"

"No," she barked.

"Oh, okay," he said, introducing himself. "My name's 'Jim' by the way. I've never told you all these years."

She muttered, "Laura" and went back to her computer.

He knew her full name. He'd seen the credit card slips for years, but it was nice to hear her say it. Then he asked, "Why do you come into the Bumble Bee every day?"

"Oh, I banned that place for a while because of bad service, but now I go back because I like the soup," she answered, still staring at her computer.

He nodded, rose, went to the bar, and ordered his espresso shot from her, the Barista. No, not one, a double shot. On the way back to his table, he walked near The Computer Lady, sliding right by her, wanting to look at her screen, wanting to know what she was searching for, wanting to ask more questions, but she was still buried in the computer. So he gave up.

He thought about how she came in every day at the same time, how she ordered the same thing. She always stayed for hours, and she rarely looked up from her computer. What was strange was that she rarely typed anything either. He couldn't figure out what she was doing, and he'd never had a chance to sneak up behind her to look at the screen. Well, he'd had the chance, when the tables were slow, but he'd never had the guts. Sometimes "not knowing" was better. But his next mission was this: he was determined to make her react, to hear some sound come from her other than choppy words and angry grunts. Perhaps she was a closet genius, and she was creating something brilliant on that computer, right there, right in the Bumble Bee Cafe. Could be anything. Maybe she was a nurse. Yeah, she worked the early shift, and she came into the restaurant after. Yes, she saved lives. Maybe she was creating the cure for Cancer. Or Diabetes. Or mental illness. Maybe she was memorizing the famous paintings of the world. Looking at photographs? Videos? Her kids? Nah, she definitely wasn't the motherly type. Strangely, he wanted to give her a hug. She looked like she needed one, but he was afraid she might crack. He wanted to do something, anything. He wanted to know what stories lived inside such an angry heart. She might crack.

Jim's phone vibrated. He checked the screen. Text from Jason, the sensitive one who couldn't hold his liquor. Jason wrote, Jim, you better come out with us. You've been a hermit, and I'm already buzzing, and I need help with that girl, you know, I can't talk to her, and I know she'll be there, she is so amazing, holy shit. Jim's phone vibrated again. Text from Kara. Heya, I'll be there now, I changed my mind. I'm getting wasted. Lisa broke up with me. Again. I need you. Five more texts. Five emails. Then he got hooked on some YouTube. Even after his espresso shot was long gone, down the hatch, Jim sat next to Computer Lady, staring at his phone. He was there for hours and hours and by then, it was getting a little late to go out. Might as well just chill and go home. Jason would make it happen with the girl. And Kara had serious muscle. They'd be all right. He thought about sending a group text that said this: I'm here. Who is going to help me? Then he looked up and saw her, the Lucky Dog Barista.

Curiously, the Barista was staring back. She thought he was attractive for an older man. She was only twenty, and he appeared to be at least twenty-five. The way the Phone Man was dressed, maybe he was an artist, yeah, a painter, or a musician. No ring on. He always came in at the same time every day, around 6:30pm. And he always sat next to the woman who was buried in her computer; the Barista assumed she was his mother. How sweet, he's hanging out with his mom on a Friday. Not a great resemblance, but it was there -- their quiet ways, and the expressions -- utterly unreadable. She'd been a Lucky Dog Barista for a long time, and she could usually read a face, but when it came to the Phone Man and his mother, the Barista remained stumped. Phone Man always ordered one shot, like a poet. But that day it was two. Strange, very strange. Perhaps he'd be interested in a free shot. She could deliver it to him. She was sexy, playing with a straw, making eyes at him. She wasn't trying to be sexy. She just was. Often times, on her days off, when she dressed for the occasion, she made men and women drool. She thought about making him something free. But she couldn't tell...maybe he wanted to be in his own space. Like his mom. He was impossible to decipher. Every day, she tried to make him smile. Maybe if she could make him smile, she could make the mother smile too. So far, nothing. Always, he simply stared at his phone. What was strange was that she saw the phone flash and vibrate, but she never saw him text anyone back. He just looked at his phone and sipped his espresso. Maybe he was an undercover cop or a Dad. Nah, he didn't seem like the fatherly type. Maybe he was an actor, yes. He looked like one. So handsome, in a weird way. Some days she wanted to hold his hand. But he might shatter. Other days, she wanted to grab his shoulders and shake the pretty face right out of him, to know his real heart. It was maddening.

The Barista cleaned the espresso machine, and she made as much noise as possible.

Jim went back to his phone.

The Computer Lady held up her glass, shaking the ice. Then she yelled, "Hey, can I have some more water?"

"Right away," the Barista said to Computer Lady. She said it ever so softly, trying to keep the scene calm.

That voice, Jim thought. He too knew what it was like to keep a customer from breaking, really breaking. He wondered about her, the real person attached to the voice. Jim turned off his phone and looked sideways at the Barista.

The Computer Lady yelled, "Water!"

The Barista swooped in, handing a tall, dripping glass over to The Computer Lady. She rolled her eyes, and then she looked at Jim, smiling wide. "You always come in here at the same time, every day."

Jim's eyes widened.

In a huff, for no reason, the Computer Lady rose and said, "I'm never coming back here." And she left.

The Barista shook her head. "What's wrong with that lady? I thought maybe she was your mom."

Jim glanced down. "She is. She just has no idea. She gave me up, you know, way back when."

The Barista sat down at Jim's table. She sniffled a little. "Oh my god. That's why you come in here every day."

Jim looked back up. "At first, yes. And then I realized...well...now I come in here for you."

-- C.A. MacConnell