“Well, well, if it isn’t miz detective Connor. How are you this fine Sausalito morning?”
“Couldn’t be better, Buzzcut, unless of course I was still in bed and not here.”
“What is our intrepid crime solver up to today? Nabbing perps? Catching bad guys? Keeping us safe?”
“You trying out for a cliché contest?”
“What’ll it be, detective? Same as yesterday?”
“Large, black Ambrosia,” Erin said, looking around for a place to sit in the crowded café.
“I’ll call out when it’s ready.”
Erin nodded. She was tall, thin, fortyish, with a boyish haircut and a no-nonsense demeanor. This morning as with every workday morning she was dressed in her non-uniform uniform – a corduroy jacket, worn jeans, and cowboy boots. She was working a block away on temporary loan to the local police. A murder investigation. Rare for a tourist town on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge. And she was desperately short of sleep. She headed for a small table in the corner, settled into the chair like a sack of dog food, and closed her eyes.
“O-M-G,” said a too familiar voice not a minute later.
Make it go away, Erin thought. I don’t need this.
“Erin?”
After a moment of pretend ignore, she reluctantly cracked open her eyes to see her ex-whatever standing above her.
“O-M-G?” she asked. “Are you speaking tweet now?”
“My ongoing battle with aging.”
“It doesn’t suit you, Guy. Besides, you’re losing.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
Guy was also on the tall side, made more apparent with him standing and her sitting. He was graying around the temples in a classic gray-makes-you-more-distinguished look. His British accent genuine but cultivated for maximum effect.
“I don’t really want to know, but for the sake of civility, what are you doing here?”
“I was thinking the same thing. Last time we saw each other, you were playing detective a bit further up the road.”
“Crime and coffee. It’s a small county. What’s your excuse?”
“Passing through.”
“Is that the punch line? ’Cause if it is, I have the perfect setup. Wanna hear?”
“Ouch,” Guy said, grimacing. “I see that time hasn’t dulled your tongue.”
“I keep some lines in reserve just in case.”
“Love you, too. By the way, are you going to ask me to sit down or am I going to have to take your insults standing up?”
“Standing up works fine with me.”
Guy pulled over a chair from the next table and sat down.
“Well… since you haven’t asked,” Guy began, “Portland isn’t or wasn’t for me.”
“What happened to what’s-her-name?”
“Ancient history. I’m solo. Decided to be celibate for a while.”
“What, between now and noon?” Erin asked. “Or did you say ‘celebrate?’”
“Working on myself. I need some alone time, catch up on who I am without distractions.”
“And Judith? How’s your daughter doing?”
“I’m sure she’d want me to say hi. She misses you.”
“Ditto,” Erin said. “Where is she?”
“With her mother. I’ll have her come down after I get settled.”
“Come down?”
“On my way to LA.”
Erin paused. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s in LA?”
“Large, black Ambrosia,” the barista called out.
“Hold that thought,” Erin said, standing up. “Never mind. Don’t hold it. I have to get back to work. I could say ‘nice seeing you’ but neither of us wouldn’t believe me.”
“Hang on. I haven’t talked to you in almost a year…”
“And it’s been a good year for me, too. Thanks for asking.”
“I don’t understand. We run into each other by accident, and you haven’t got ten minutes?”
Erin turned and walked to the counter. She got her coffee, put a lid on the cup, walked back to the table, and sat down.
“Five minutes,” she said, “but not because I owe you another second of my life.”
“Why then?”
“Don’t push it. Why are you going to LA?”
“Interview with a small architectural firm. Just a formality. I’ve been doing some consulting for them for a couple of months. Now they want me in the office and to do some fieldwork.”
Erin stared at him without expression.
“Look,” Guy said, “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt it.”
“I haven’t forgotten the money. I have every intention of paying you back. Erin, this move is good for me. And I’ve been sober since we split up.”
“Good for you,” she said, evenly.
“You’ve changed, Erin.”
“Yes. I’m being civil.”
“The edge in your voice. It’s not what I remember.”
“You should see me on one of my bad days.”
“I mean, look… I wasn’t… It didn’t… A year ago I wasn’t the same person.”
“Guy, stop. It’s going to take me the rest of the day to forget that this conversation took place. I don’t have the time or the energy. To be honest, I don’t give a crap about any aspect of your life. Twice in my life I was deliriously happy about our relationship – the day we met and the day I kicked your unemployed, drunken ass out of my apartment. Everything in-between is kind of a blur, and frankly I need for it to stay that way. I’m glad you’re working things out. I meant it when I said ‘good for you.’ But this is where it ends.”
Erin stood up, picked up her coffee, and walked out without looking back. On the sidewalk, she stopped and looked down the length of the street for reassurance that the sun was still shining. She looked up at the ridgeline of headlands above the town where the fog was sitting like a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. Slowly she started walking back to the police station, no longer unsuspecting.
by 
Jim Woessner
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