Impulse Shopping

There’s this new, little cafe I’ve been gracing that’s quaint and cheap with enough charm to keep me going back.

I go in the latter part of the day after the lunch crowd leaves, nestled at a table observing its comings and goings as though I were watching a play.

An older couple sits adjacent to me drinking espresso, sharing a piece of lemon cake. She is digging something out of her purse while he sits with his legs sprawled in the aisle. It’s as though they were in their own living room.

He’s 80 if he’s a day with liver spots that make him look like a crinkled leopard. She abruptly gets up to go to the ladies room whispering something to him before she leaves. He starts fiddling with a hospital bracelet on his right wrist. He sees me looking, so he triumphantly yanks it off like she’s cuffed him from behind. I give him two-thumbs up that reaps a sly smile.

When the woman reappears they prepare to leave. I wonder why he didn’t pay. Maybe she’s an heiress who can afford cake and pricey cups of Italian coffee.

He keeps peering at me over his three ply coked glasses that remind me of an X-ray machine in a leisure suit.

They kiss briefly in front before parting in opposite directions.

Five minutes later as I’m grazing through my greens, who do I see stepping back into the cafe but this man who is suddenly standing at my table.

“Excuse me,” he says as though he were about to ask for directions, “this is strictly on impulse, but would you mind if I join you?”

“Yes, I would,” I quickly say, adding a, “but thank you anyway,” to soften the blow.

He looks stunned that I would actually deny someone I gave the high sign to. He quickly turns on his heel and marches out.   

Klaven, the bus boy who rarely says a word, begins to laugh. I look at him over my wineglass realizing he’s right, it is funny how men keep at it even when their wrists are still warm from hospital bracelets while willing women pick up their tab.

I wondered about my own demeanor. That small display of recognition registering as an invitation, as though it were code to come hither. He was so old and creaky with an ego that clearly still held cards close to his chest forgetting…a straight flush, after all, still beats a full house.

I call my friend, Camille, to tell her I was almost picked up by an outpatient.

She said I should have let him sit down so he’d pick up my check.

“But he didn’t pick up his own Camille…the woman he was with did.”

“What was she wearing?”

“A baggy orange sundress.”

“What were you wearing?”

“My pink Carolina Herrera.”

“He would have picked up your check.”

“He was 80 Camille.”

“And still breathing.”

SB

About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
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12 Responses to Impulse Shopping

  1. Hahahaha! We have a patient who is pushing 100 and is the biggest married flirt you ever met. One day his wife came back while he got their coats and said “Girls, they’ll keep trying until the coffin lid closes.” Of course her priceless line turned into a code between us.
    So to you I say “Looks like the lid is still open” I am dying at the hospital bracelet…dear god! Hahaha!

    Like

  2. skinnyuz2b says:

    So funny. I wish I could have seen the look on his face! I can’t compete with a liver-spotted out-patient, but I’ve had my moments too.
    About ten years ago, I ran into a convenience store. When I returned to my vehicle, both sons couldn’t wait to announce, “Wow, mom, those two guys were checking you out big-time.” I turned, vainly expecting to see a couple of cute, but way-too-young admirers. Wrong. My two fans had guts that hung down to their knees, along with foot-long butt cracks. Hmmm, that explained the hysterical laughter from my boys. My bubble was burst.

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    • I just said to Top Down, maybe I need to increase my glamor just a tad. He looked like a Hummel yet had the balls, though low I’m sure, to circle back in. It made me order another glass of wine.

      Like

  3. D. D. Syrdal says:

    Priceless 🙂 There was a photo someone sent me years ago, of two guys. One was hot, buff, young, and underneath him it said “What we’re looking for.” On the other side was a fat, slovenly Skid Row-bum type with the caption “What’s looking for us.” If I can find it I’ll send it to you, it’s a riot.

    Rule #1 of Life Club: Never make eye contact! 😉

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  4. pmahaney says:

    Too much, but I suspect probably more true than most men would care to admit.

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  5. Rob says:

    Sex is life and life is sex. Give up and you’ve one foot in the grave.

    Like

  6. storyofalice says:

    That made me smile! Also, take out my notebook to write: “Yes, I would mind, but thank you anyway”.

    Like

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