“In an effort say something poignant and illustrious, all I can muster is being true and in the moment. I have lost track of the actual time that I have been in your company now because it seems that I have always been in your head. The connection between us is more than a little scary but we have both said we are standing firm and seeing this through.”
“Is that what you are actually sending her?”
Johno nodded. He looked at his phone again. Somehow it felt heavy to him. Brogan scratched her head and shrugged.
“Will she understand all of that?”
“She’s not stupid,” said Johno.
“No. No. No-no-no, of course she is not, no,” she said. “But maybe it’s just a bit—I don’t know—a bit out there.”
Johno deliberated on this for a few more seconds and sent the message to drafts. Brogan sat hunched over her latte admiring the foam art the barista made with cinnamon and nutmeg. He had etched a fire-breathing dragon into the foam.
“This is clever, isn’t it,” she said and looked up over at the barista. He noticed her and smiled. She gave him two thumbs-up. “I think he’s proper gorgeous. You think he fancies me?”
“I think he’s gay.”
“Shut it,” she said. “You are just jealous.”
“Of what? –Some pretentious coffee maker with too much time on his hands? –Get a real job,” said Johno.
Like his father, John Joel Denny was a manufacturing process engineer. When he was at college, he did his apprenticeship at the company his father worked for and then went to university. His aloofness about the barista was not because he had any distain for art. He thought it a lively hobby. However, talent like that should be applied to making the world more proficient. Johno looked at Brogan who had made eye contact with the pretty-boy-coffee-Van Gough. She smiled and wrinkled her nose at him like a bunny. He beamed, raised a coffee cup at her and winked.
“Good god,” said Johno.
“Sometimes you don’t need to say something poignant and illustrious,” she said. “Now text your girl and tell her you want her and stop arsing about.”
“Then find someone else.”