A visitor to a coffee shop unintentionally makes the cashier feel uncomfortable.
|It’s after eight in the evening when the phone rings. The caller ID says The Java Cup.It’s my daughter, Autumn, who works there serving café lattés to downtown customers. I pick up the receiver. “Hey,” I say.
“Mom,” she says in a whisper, “Guess who’s here?”
“Who?” I ask, not even bothering to guess. Whose presence would warrant a phone call?
“Dr. Hanberry,” she says, still whispering. He must be standing at the counter waiting on his coffee or something.
“Really?” I ask, my words dipped in sweetness. Hanberry is my GYN doctor. He’s Autumn’s doctor, too. Also, he has an identical twin brother, who just so happens to be my sister, Lisa’s GYN guy. The family that…. oh never mind.
Anywaaaay, “He is?” I continue.
“Yes. And, it’s embarrassing.” Maybe so, but I'm suppressing a giggle.
“So, I called you 'cuz no one here understands. Least of all, Calvin. “
I’m wondering why she even told Calvin.
“You know what he said to me?” It must be a rhetorical question. She blurts out the answer before I can respond. ”Calvin said, ‘What? You mean cuz he’s seen your junk?’”
I can’t help it. A soft giggle erupts from my lips. Junk? In all my forty-one years, I've never heard of my "stuff" being called "junk". Who does this Calvin think he his? Even still, I’m hit with a mental flash; A drunken loser in a smoky bar trying to hit on some girl…"Hey baby! can I go through your junk?" Or, even worse… "Every woman’s junk is one man’ s treasure."
“Mom,” she says, bringing me back to reality. “This is a traumatic moment for me.” I can almost see her stomping her foot. Again, laughing on my part. I guess, being twenty, it’s embarrassing for her, seeing her gynecologist somewhere other than his office or examining room.
“Is anyone with him?” I ask, stepping over her trauma. I’m old, I have two children; my junk has been exposed more times than I care to count. I’m so over it.
“Well? who is with him?”
“His wife, and daughter.”
“Is she pretty?” Oh my gosh! Did I really just ask that? The gossipy me rearing her ugly head.
“Mom!” She drags the word out. “Focus! Me...your daughter...first born...is having a moment. I need your help.”
“Aaawww. Autumn. I’m sorry,” I say. “That sucks. Can’t you like, go to the bathroom or something? Go to the back, wash some dishes.”
“Can’t. Nice try.”
“Has he said anything to you?” She just went for her annual two days ago. I know he recognizes her.
I talk her down, tell her I love her. Whew! I’m still on the call list when things get tight.