It was the end of a relatively uneventful 2009 and the new year was just weeks away. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s just where I was in my life at that time. I had graduated from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington the previous year and spent that whole summer attempting to surf and going out with friends. Early that fall, just a few months later, I finally got a job waiting tables at a ritzy, upscale joint near Wrightsville Beach. We only opened in the evening hours for dinner so I found my days pretty freed up but didn’t mind it one bit. Having spent the last four years writing papers, constructing presentations and, my all time favorite, “critical thinking”, some free time felt like a well deserved break. With my Bachelors Degree in Communications hanging on my wall and literally had no idea where to go from there, I decided to take the server position to fill the gap. Little did I know, that gap would turn into roughly four years-ish. Despite my “big plans” after college, I was totally content and my parents weren’t pressuring me to find a different job as long as I wasn’t hitting them up for money.

My parents are awesome. They have always been super supportive of most of my decisions and besides, they knew me well enough to know I wasn’t the self destructive type. It wasn’t in my nature so they didn’t have much to worry about when it came to my decision making. Growing up, I had always been a pretty focused kid; I did well in school, never got into any real trouble and was somewhat athletic. Athletic meaning I had energy and stamina but I lacked the competitive gene so I never went anywhere with sports. Another thing that let my parents sleep better at night was that I never really went “boy crazy” like most of my friends after the age of thirteen. I was single for most of my time spent at UNCW with two exceptions, the first being Christopher. We met our freshman year living in the same dorm; thank God for co-ed, right? He was a tall and tan soccer player with blue eyes and surfer hair. I was at every game and of course there was homecoming. He was my first of a lot of things and there were many times throughout our off and on two year relationship that I truly thought it could be love, a few times I even convinced myself that it was. But young love is often reckless and unpredictable, and in the end it just wasn’t meant to be but I came out the other side unscathed and with a lifelong friend.

The other “relationship”, if you can call it that, was a three month fling with a guy from work whom will remain nameless. It was the summer before my junior year in college and I had just started my first waitressing job so I could support myself and stay in Wilmington for the summer instead of going back home. I hadn’t been working at this restaurant long when he made his move. He seemed so different from boys I’d dated before, probably because he wasn’t a boy at all! It caught me off guard for sure; nine years older than me with a thousand lines I’d never heard before and his own house. Looking back I realize how naïve I was about the whole thing. It took me longer than it should have but eventually I discovered what he was really all about. It wasn’t all bad, I look back at it like a growing pain in a sense, plus I learned a lot about life and myself through the experience; if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck. I finally wised up and called it quits in September 2006 and he caused a scene. It was a bit awkward working together for a while after that but luckily a blue eyed twenty year old student was hired part-time as a hostess in early December and just like that, I was off the hook.

I had a little money in the bank and a low maintenance lifestyle; unknowing about loss and even less about love. Life was easy. But I soon learned, when life is letting you enjoy the view, it’s really just giving you a chance to catch your breath.

It was so perfect, the whole setting, almost like a scene out of a movie. Fate must have been on my side because my hair was on point and there wasn’t even a cloud in the crisp, clear December sky. The coffee was strong that day and I can still remember feeling especially awake with clarity for miles. The sun had just made its way over the shortest building that lined the humble downtown skyline and poured in through the wall-length windows. I sat in my usual spot which was advisedly the best seat in the house. At a round, wooden table in farthest corner from the door, I sat alone with an empty seat straight across from me. To my immediate left sat a narrow stainless steel caddy that hosted creams, sugars, honey and cinnamon. I also liked that my table had initials with hearts around them carved into it; it was good reading material for a slow morning. And finally, from where I sat I had a clear visual on any patron entering the small coffee house before they even reached the double wood-framed, glass doors.

On a frigid December morning I had arrived just after they opened, claiming the freshest cup of coffee possible and my favorite spot. Along with my writer’s block, I was accompanied by a copy of J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in The Rye for inspiration and my composition notebook, which I carried almost everywhere back then. Holding a black ink pen loosely in my hand, I drew circles over and over until the paper bled stopping only to take sips of coffee. There was so much to say but it had temporarily escaped me when I saw him walk past the stretch of windows heading straight towards the double doors. He was tall and muscular but not the gym-rat type; more like the “lumbersexual” look with broad shoulders. His look was rough and unpolished with a pair of dark fitted jeans and a hooded twill military jacket. His lush, dark hair was too long to be neatly pushed to the side, although it looked like he had tried, and his beard was thick but trimmed neatly so that it complimented his obvious and strong jaw line. Serious eye brows sat above his dark eyes and just as I made note of his lips he slightly grazed them with his tongue and pressed them together for short lived relief from the wintry weather. He was all man and I was completely intoxicated by him.

He ordered a black coffee, of course, and sat alone in the corner opposite of me. I assumed he was waiting for someone so I kept glancing towards the doors but he never acted as if he were expecting anyone, in fact, he pulled a composition notebook of his own from a worn, leather shoulder bag and began to write.I could only imagine the content of that notebook and I wanted to know so badly.He seemed like the quiet type; one that might have better luck with a pen and paper.Lost in a daydream of dark sonnets that I imagined filled the pages in his notebook, I caught myself dazed and staring at ancient water ring stains in my little round table, my pen no longer making contact with my paper.When I glanced his way he was smiling, not at his writings but at me.Back then you could convince me to avoid an obvious gamble but in his case I was willing to take my chances.Smiling back at him I’m sure I looked innocent but I didn’t feel like it one bit; I thought about the words he was scribbling and then his pen and then his hand… I couldn’t look away if I tried.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 At First Sight:James