Chapter 4 - Walter Said I Used To Sit At Table Seven Every Morning
Walter was still at the café when I returned.
Calvin had closed early.
The chairs were up on half the tables.
Walter sat at Table Seven.
Of course.
I took the seat across from him.
He looked at me.
“Marcus tell you everything?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I frowned.
“Why good?”
“Because he never knows when to stop being official.”
From the back counter, Calvin muttered:
“That is a wild accusation coming from you.”
Walter ignored him.
I put the photograph between us.
“Tell me about Maya.”
His hands tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I'm asking.”
Something in him changed.
Maybe he remembered my note too.
He nodded.
“She was twenty-seven.”
Three years older than me.
“Army medic?”
“Yes.”
“Same unit?”
“For those four months.”
“Friends?”
Walter looked at the photograph.
“Very.”
I waited.
He noticed.
“Roommates.”
“On base?”
“Eventually. Before that she had another roommate.”
“How did we meet?”
“Here.”
I looked around.
“Of course.”
“You hated the coffee.”
“I still might.”
“You said it tasted like somebody had described coffee over the phone.”
Calvin laughed behind the counter.
“That sounds like her.”
I turned.
“You remember that?”
Calvin nodded.
“You complained every day and still came every day.”
“Why?”
Walter answered.
“Maya.”
That hurt without becoming memory.
I looked at him.
“What was she like?”
He smiled.
“Difficult.”
Calvin said:
“Walter.”
“What? She was.”
The smile stayed.
“She had no patience for people who apologized without changing anything. She bought expensive running shoes and never ran. She called me every Sunday even when she was mad at me.”
“Why was she mad at you?”
Walter looked away.
“Later.”
I caught that.
“Was she mad at you when she died?”
His face closed.
“Yes.”
I could have pushed.
Didn't.
“What did we do here?”
“You ate breakfast.”
“That's all?”
“No.”
“What else?”
Walter rubbed one thumb along the table edge.
“You studied. She complained about officers. You corrected her stories when she exaggerated.”
I almost smiled.
“Did I?”
“Constantly.”
“You liked me?”
Walter’s face changed.
“I loved you.”
The word landed too heavily.
He noticed.
“Not like that.”
“I assumed.”
“You were the person who could get Maya to call me after we fought.”
I looked at the photograph again.
The hand under the table.
“Why were we holding hands?”
Walter stared at it.
“I don't know.”
“You were there.”
“That morning?”
He leaned closer.
Then his expression changed.
“No.”
“What?”
“That wasn't morning.”
Calvin came over.
Walter pointed.
“The anniversary photo was taken at night.”
Calvin looked.
“You're right.”
“How do you know?”
“The apron.”
Walter nodded toward his younger self in the picture.
“I only wore that ridiculous thing for closing shifts.”
Calvin frowned.
“So?”
Walter looked at me.
“You and Maya didn't come in together that night.”
My chest tightened.
“Who came first?”
“You.”
“Was I upset?”
“Yes.”
“About her?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Walter hesitated.
“You asked me if Maya had been here.”
I looked at him.
“Had she?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She came in twenty minutes later.”
“And?”
Walter looked at the photograph.
“You two sat there for almost an hour without talking.”
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
“Did she tell you?”
“No.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“But when you left, Maya stayed.”
“What did she say?”
Walter’s eyes moved to my uniform.
The same fear from earlier.
“She said if anything happened, you would know what she wanted.”
I stared.
“What did that mean?”
Walter shook his head.
“I didn't ask.”
“Why not?”
His face tightened.
“Because I was angry at her.”
“About what?”
He looked toward Calvin.
Calvin quietly went into the back.
Walter waited until we were alone.
Then:
“She had signed a medical directive without telling me.”
I sat back.
“What did it say?”
“That if she couldn't recover enough to make her own decisions, she did not want prolonged treatment used just because I couldn't let go.”
I stared at him.
“Why would she say that about you?”
Walter laughed once.
No humor.
“Because she knew me.”
May you like
Then his eyes came back to mine.
“And she knew you would be the one person in the room who wouldn't mistake my fear for her permission.”
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