II. The High Priestess. [Reversed]

The Coffee Shop—DAY

I am sitting alone at a table in a Coffee Shop in the city.

So this is the first stop Anna wanted to make? I think, Coffee? Though she is nowhere to be found, I realize it is a book that she has given me before disappearing. So, I figure there is nothing more I can do now but sadly sip a cup of coffee and pretend to read so that no one will see how sad I am that Anna is gone. 

Also Joan Baez is playing on the sound system. And that sucks more than a little too.

The book it turns out is The Book, a Torah.

She has left a bookmark in Mishlei, the Book of Proverbs. Some of Solomon’s wisdom couldn’t hurt, I think, but the book must be in Hebrew. Or else in any case, the words swim on the page and I cannot make heads or tails of them.

I look around for help. Through the front windows, I spot a long, black pickup truck sliding into a spot. I know it immediately. It is my old nemesis, Spike.

Why do I have an old nemesis you may ask? I don’t quite remember to be honest. But I suspect that we all have one. Especially up and down the roads of uncertainty and temptation.

Unluckily, mine now closes in on the Coffee Shop, and I keep my head down, praying either Anna would return or Spike won’t notice me. As I transfix on the brown crescent coffee stains on the table, Spike saunters towards the cafe with his entourage. He is tall, muscular with spiked red hair (hence the name) and a rockabilly suit. He flings open the front doors as if a superstar entering the place. Spike looks around the room and spots me immediately. Of course.  And soon slides into a chair next to me at the table.

The rest of Spike’s friends, following a pace behind, soon also crowd me at the table.

One is Gunny Bill, a messed-up Vietnam vet-type in fatigues and a beret; his buddy holly frames have one blacked out lens. He lost an eye in the war, I suppose.  He sits on my left.

The other friend is a schizophrenic junky whore-type who sits on Spike’s lap to my right. She goes by Guillo-Tina Chopstwice.

All three ramble about crazily, to themselves. Spike now formally initiates the meeting.

“Okay, now that we’ve found Frank. Here’s what we gotta do—”

“—What you’ve got to do is fuck me, lover,” smooches Guillo-Tina, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

Bill ignores the scene. “Fuck, man. We can’t talk about all this here. They got ears everywhere.”

Guillo-Tina plucks at the buttons of Spike’s jacket. “Com'n, Spike. Let me give you a BJ. A little one. Right under the table.”

Gunny Bill is incensed. “Let’s not talk about BJs! Let’s talk about LBJ! And JFK in DP.”

“DP? Dealey Plaza?” I think to myself in the middle wanting just to curl up into a ball and escape.  A Waitress large and gruff in a greasy apron, approaches and clears her throat. She stands over us holding two large coffee pots, black and white, regular and decaf. She stares at us frozen in this position for a moment. A vision in a blue wait staff tunic, serene and wise between her columnar urns.

At length, she slams the decaf pot down on the table, rattling the silverware and spilling the full water glasses. The water splashes over me and dribbles over the table edge into my shoes.

“Hi, I’m Frank.” I say frankly flanked. “I’m sorry about the noise. They’re with me. I guess.” The Waitress adjusts the little white paper diadem on her head and tops off my coffee with regular, knowingly indicating Spike with a shake of the decaf as she picks it back up.

“You know, He’s the reason you lost Her. You are losing Her, don’t you know? And, She was the lone spot of happiness for you.”

Meanwhile Spike and the Guillo-Tina are kissing sloppily. The Waitress slams down the decaf coffee pot again so she can jab an accusing painted nail at each of us in turn. She jabs Spike’s chest.

“This is the woman you left Her for? (She jabs at Guillo-Tina) after She left Him— (A jab at me)—for You (Back at Spike)?”

As my brain catches up, I look to Spike in horror at the Waitress’ reveal. Has Spike been seeing Andrea? Have I been cuckolded by this devil and his entourage? That explains so much! I stand up slowly weak with dread, as Spike and company sneer and the Waitress shakes her head sadly. I weakly grab my things and toss a wad of cash and coins on the table.