Juxtaposed

He sat across from his girlfriend in the ice cream shoppe, but he paid her no mind. She sat with her back to the counter so she didn’t see the couple in the long queue for ice cream on the lovely summer’s day. She was savoring her coffee crunch double scoop before it melted clear away, oblivious to her boyfriend’s nonchalance. Honestly, it was easier to pretend they were on the same page than to try and get on the same page. So she was knowingly oblivious, if there was such a thing.

The guy, we’ll call him Clark, has an untouched bowl of plain vanilla on the table in front of him, but it is luckily shielded from the glare of the sun by the shadow cast by the large umbrella just outside the window to his back. He, unlike his girlfriend, we’ll call her Janine, has an unobstructed view of the aforementioned couple in the tedious line, no closer to ordering their food than they were when they entered. He was thinking that if it were he and Janine, they would have probably left. As it was, they had arrived in the exact nick of time, barely beating the crazy afternoon rush at their favorite sweet shoppe. He nodded in time to something his girlfriend said, having no idea what it was or what he had just agreed to, but not caring either. Instead, he studied the couple that had begun to intrigue him.

The girl in line was a touch under 5’4″. He knew this because he was 5’4″, and he was quite self-conscious about it. So, she would come up just past his shoulder perhaps. The perfect height, he thought. She had honey blonde hair someone had gathered into a large, white clip on top of her head, leaving her neck bare, probably a reaction to the weather more than anything, but Clark still appreciates it. The man beside her was considerably taller, probably closer to 6 feet but still not tall by modern standards. He would never play for a professional basketball team. His hair was cropped short, possibly a reaction to premature balding, a thought that made Clark smile in spite of himself. Janine, believing him to be smiling at her, smiles back, still oblivious.

As the queue begins to move oh-so-slowly forward, the couple stands apart from each other, an invisible barrier a non-subtle reminder of some fight they aren’t talking about but is obviously making their collective air brittle. Perhaps the trip to the ice cream shoppe was a compromise of sorts, or an apology. Clark cannot tell from his perspective, but he likes to imagine. It’s what he spends the majority of his time doing, imagining the lives of other people. He lives vicariously through them, something that should trouble him, but does not. His spoon that he has set firmly in the ice cream begins to slide forward as the ice cream cannot help but begin melting in his bowl. He does not notice this, though it does catch Janine’s eye.

The boy in line, we’ll call him Jeffrey, puts his hand tentatively on the girl’s lower back, a gesture meant to show his soothing nature, but it puts her off instead. She moves further away out of arm’s reach as they finally arrive at their joint destination, the counter. The cheery cashier, whom Clark remembers fondly from about ten minutes previous, with a name tag that reads “Carlene,” asks them for their flavors and they stand dumbfounded, as if they haven’t been waiting in line so long and haven’t looked at the menu. He looks at her, but she is now ignoring him, staring daggers into the menu above their heads as if it were the holy grail. Behind them the others in the queue start to get shifty and aggravated. A low buzz becomes a medium rumble while they make their choices, and even “Carlene” seems to lose her cheery smile for a moment before it returns.

Janine waves her hand in front of Clark’s face, finally ready to admit that something is wrong, in the room, in the relationship, in her life. He turns to face her, turning red from having been caught in his favorite activity, knowing how the conversation must go. She is slowly getting up to speed, but they meet in the middle while behind her the drama continues to play out. There are tears and accusations as the couple moves aside and the others shove in to take their place at the counter. It is understood that if they want to get ice cream on this day they will have to go to the end of the line after the tears and accusations. That won’t be necessary, though. The disagreement has proven to be too great. On her way out of the ice cream shoppe, still in tears, the girl glances quickly in Clark’s direction. He instantly sees it in her eyes, if even for just that one milisecond of time. She’s afraid of what is behind the unknown door that she has just opened.

And he knows he is too, as he turns once again to face a now-saddened Janine, and a pool of ice cream that has begun to drip on the tablecloth, and the door closes in the nameless girl’s wake.

Sam