LIGHTS

There's a moment when I wake up sometimes. I can't tell if it's a dream, or if it's just him that's the dream. I wake up and stretch across the bed but find it empty. That's not normal. I open my eyes completely. The white ceiling glares at me. It is not a weekend. It's only Wednesday. Wake up, Em, you've got a busy day. I hear noises coming from the kitchen. I push the dream from my mind, but he keeps coming back.

My feet touch the floor. It's unusually cold for a September morning. I grab my robe and slip into my warm slippers as I walk out of my room. Even with the door closed I can hear Trent moving around making breakfast. I really lucked out with him.

“Good morning, darling.” His Welsh accent makes the words even sweeter. It's not as strong as it was when we met. I leave the doorway I have been leaning against and walk in to the kitchen. He stops as I approach and kisses me quickly before going back to work. I sit on a barstool at the counter.

“You're letting your accent slip again.” He looks at me like he's not amused.

“I told you, my accent doesn't define me. Besides, I'm tired of people asking questions or assuming they know me because of my accent.” He continues with breakfast.

“No, you're tired of girls fawning over you just because of your accent.” He glances back at me and I wink to ensure he knows I'm teasing. He stops and walks over to the counter across from me.

“I seem to remember a certain woman finding it incredibly irresistible.” He leans over and kisses me again. I gentle grab his face and hold him there extending our kiss for longer than a second. He doesn't fight me, but kisses me deeper. I release him, but he doesn't immediately retreat, he lingers just long enough.

“Regardless of the amount of women throwing themselves at your feet, you shouldn't lose such a big part of yourself.” I pull a magazine on the counter over and start flipping through the newest fashions and what Jason Tyde's next summer blockbuster is going to be. I used to think he was incredibly arrogant, but it turns out it was just his ex-wife Brooke. Apparently he's dating someone new. Hmm.

“Em, I know that you don't want me to forget where I've come from, but that's precisely what I want to forget. My past isn't a pleasant experience. I'm not one of the people in your magazine's. I have had terrible things happen in my past that I can't get away from.” Trent speaks with a fierceness I have rarely heard before.

“Yes, but not all of it could have been bad.”

“It was.” He doesn't even look up as he speaks. I try to diffuse the tension,

“Then how did you become such a good person? At some point amid all the terrible things and hard times something good must have happened to you to make you amazing now.” I watch him, waiting for a response, but he doesn't give me one.

The morning light shines through the window behind him, but it doesn't encompass him like you might expect. It's almost like he's just outside of the light in a shadow. He is about six feet tall. His jet black hair is a hopeless mess this morning. His features are worn wearing the scars of years of torment just under the surface of his face and in his hands. Whatever he's been through, it hasn't been easy. And yet, his grey eyes look kindly at me. Like a calm ocean after a turbulent storm. As if I am the only important thing in his life. I can't stop looking into those eyes. The windows to his soul. And in them, I see hope.

“Only you can find the good in me.” He brings me my plate along with a glass of juice. He places the plate in front of me. He returns with his plate and sits next to me and changes the subject,

“How did you sleep?” What may seem like a simple question, is more him letting me know he noticed that I had the dream again. He is not a fan of the recurring dream I keep having. I don't remember many of the details, just this guy that seems to always be around. I don't ever talk to him, or even get close to him-but he's always there. He is the constant. And every time I wake up, Trent worries.

“I take it by your asking that you're worried about me?” I give him a coy smile and hope that he wants to return to the light mood we had at the beginning of the morning.. He doesn't. He sighs and walks over to sit beside me.

“I just worry that these dreams are affecting you more than you let on.” Any frustration he may have showed when I asked about his past is now replaced with concern for my mental well being. He takes my hand and continues,

“I want to protect you...why are you looking at me like I'm mad?”

“Because I'm not entirely convinced that you're not.” I wink at him to try and diffuse the situation. He sighs and begins to eat his breakfast. We eat in silence for a moment before I look at the clock. It's only 7:15, but the stress of the conversation, I stand up as if I've just realized I'm running late.

“Wow, I didn't realize the time! I need to go get ready!” He looks at me confused, but I finish my last few bites and quickly start to clean up my place. He stands and walks over to me, placing his hands on my hips. He looks down at me trying to understand my thoughts. I kiss him quickly on the lips and turn to head to my room. He reluctantly lets me go. There is a pull from him that I haven't noticed before. I stop at the doorway and look back at him as he stands in the kitchen.

“I'm fine, Trent, I promise.” I say it with all the reassurance I hope he understands.

“I know, I'm just a worrier by nature. What time do you have to work this morning?” Here's the thing I've noticed about Trent. He's a worrier about me. Not really about anything else. It's kind of adorable, though, right? I mean he really cares about me.

“I need to get there as early as I can. I've got the big bosses coming in on my shift today.” I walk quickly to my room and close the door. As I hurry through my morning routine I feel the tension and stress of my argument with Trent slip away. When I leave my room to go to work, I can hardly remember what we were arguing about.

I walk into the living room to see that Trent has cleaned the kitchen and has also gotten ready for the day.

“You always manage to get ready so much faster than I do.” There is a lightness now that is unexplainable, but I'm grateful that whatever was wrong this morning is now gone.

“Well, you are a woman. I'll never understand why you spend so much time getting ready when you are just as beautiful as before you started.” I blush slightly. Maybe it's the words. Or the accent. Or a combination of both that seem to make me melt when he says these things to me.

“You are too kind. Any way, I need to get to work. Are you walking with me today?” I say distractedly as I notice a stain on my scrubs, it's not too noticeable, but it still distracts me.

“Just down the steps, I'm afraid. I have an important meeting I need to get to and will be catching a cab. But are we still on for dinner tonight? I've got that friend coming into town and he wanted to meet up. I figured we could all go to dinner.” He speaks just as distractedly as me as he fidgets with his watch slightly and then puts on his suit coat. I nod in agreement, trying to not let on the intrigue I feel. Trent has never mentioned anyone from his past. He always says the past is the past and moves away from the subject. I know he has demons, and I really don't care what he did or didn't do in his past.

He adjusts his coat in the mirror, smooths his hair back even though it was already perfect. He turns to me for approval. I adjust his tie and then pull his face to mine for a goodbye kiss. I am not disappointed. As he hesitantly pulls away, he takes my hand, our fingers interlocking and we walk out together. Trent kisses me one last time at the bottom of the stairs in front of my building and hails a cab.

After Trent gets in his cab, I start walking to work. It's only a few blocks away and I enjoy the morning air that opens a new day with brightness. I check my phone. It's 7:45. I got ready quickly this morning. I don't actually have to be to work until 9 and I am already prepared for the day. I don't know exactly why I was so eager to leave Trent this morning, but the time alone allows me to focus on work and to put aside the doubts that sometimes creep into my mind about him.

I decide a cup of coffee is long overdue and head to my favorite coffee shop. It's on the corner three blocks away. I go there every morning. Yes, I get coffee every morning. I'm a doctor, I need it. For real, I NEED it.

As I walk in, I look around. The same workers the same empty tables. Every day, there is always the same guy sitting against the wall to the far side of the register. No one is ever with him, he always sits alone. The same drink and a book to read every morning. I noticed him for the first time a few months ago. I didn't think much of him and let the memory fade. His blue eyes have a piercing quality to them that pull you in. His short sandy blond hair always well maintained. I've never noticed his hair longer or shorter in the weeks I've watched him. Almost like he's timeless. He wears a pinstripe button up shirts with the sleeves perfectly and strategically rolled up. He has an undefined preoccupation with his watch. He checks it constantly. I was bored one morning and counted how many times he checked his watch. Ten times in fifteen minutes.

He is oblivious to the world, and yet I feel like he is watching more closely than the rest of us. He checks his watch, looks up and then returns to this book. How can he read? I would get too distracted to even pay attention to the words on the page. It must be a ruse.

I admit, my fascination is probably bordering on creepy. Probably. No one else seems to notice him. It's almost like they don't even see him. This morning is no exception. No one sees him, no one talks to him, it's like he's not even here. It's my turn to order.

“Uh, a large non fat mocha latte, please.” I pull the money from my wallet.

“Coming right up. Name?” The barista doesn't even look at me while punching the keys on her register.

“Emma.”

“That'll be 5.16” I hand her exact change and move to the designated waiting area.

I continue to watch him. There is nothing threatening about him. Perhaps that is why no one notices. I thought about asking one of the workers if they know anything about him, but they seem even less personable than usual today. A little thought keeps pestering me to go talk to him. After all, I have time today. It's not even eight in the morning.

“Emma!” The barista's voice booms around me and my cup comes flying across the counter. I've become a coffee catching ninja as I skillfully snatch it without a drop getting on my scrubs. I check my phone again. 7:52. Fine. You win, stupid little thought in my head. I take a deep breath. Drink a sip of my incredibly hot drink and walk towards him. He doesn't even look up as I approach him. What am I going to say to him when I get there? Crap. I didn't think about this.

“Excuse me?” The only words that come to mind. He looks up. Dang. His eyes. They are even more gorgeous up close. Crap. I'm suddenly nervous.

“Yes?” A hint of an accent lingers at the single word that escapes his lips.

“Hi. Um..I just-uh...I...” nothing. My mind is completely blank.

“I'm sorry, do I know you?” Yep. Definitely an accent. My guess is European, but I can't quite put my finger on the region. It's not Welsh, I've learned the differences from Trent.

“I don't think so. I've just seen you here every day for a few weeks and-”

“and that would imply that you also have a fascinating addiction to coffee.” He smiles, raising his coffee cup and taking a sip. I chuckle awkwardly. Wow. This is not going well. Why did I come talk to him again? I have a boyfriend.

“Yes, I do. I'm a doctor, so I think I at least have justification.”
“A doctor? How interesting. I suppose that any other profession just can't justify stopping by for a morning pick me up, eh?” He didn't seem to be mocking me, at least, not intentionally.

“Um. No, I didn't mean tha-” I try to be all sophisticated and tuck my hair behind my ears, but instead I just make a mess, nearly dropping my cup and look like an idiot.

“I know what you meant. I've noticed you busily coming and going for weeks as well, care to sit?” He motions to the empty seat across from him. He puts a bookmark in his book and places it face down on the table. I take a seat. He continues speaking,

“To be perfectly honest, you are rather entertaining to watch some mornings.” His words cause a smile to escape and slide across his face. It's a gorgeous smile. Why he sits alone each day is beyond me. He should have swarms of girls lining up just to catch a glimpse of that smile.

“Oh dear.” I look away embarrassed. He just smiles again. Pulling me back in. That smile, ugh. With his teeth perfectly straight and white. If he wasn't so handsome, it'd be sickening.

“Oh, I didn't mean to upset you. I just find it remarkable that no matter how rude the workers are to you, you keep coming back.”

“Ha. It's a sacrifice for a really good drink.”

“It sounds like gibberish when you order, you know.”

“What? No it doesn't.”

“Non fat de-something...um...?” He raises an eyebrow as if to challenge me.

“ Grande decaf non fat mocha latte.” I say it all in one breath. He yawns, mockingly.

“I'm exhausted just listening to you say it. How did you ever come to try that drink?

“My boyfriend, actually.” I look at him as I say boyfriend. I try to gage his reaction. Is he talking to me just to flirt? He gives no reaction at all. Maybe he didn't hear me.

“Well, bless him for being brave enough to try that monstrosity of a word!” We both chuckle lightly, I take another sip of my drink.

“So, was there a reason you came over to talk to me this morning? Or do you enjoy questioning people's motives behind drinking a cup of coffee in a coffee shop?” I blush as I hear the ridiculousness in his voice. My motive is unclear, even to me. He makes a valid point.

“Mostly, I was curious. I've notice you look at your watch a lot and yet you are always reading a book. Isn't that distracting?”

“Sometimes. Mostly I'm just here to kill time before I head in to the office.”

“You could just catch a later bus. Or train. Or cab. Or, since you have an office, you could read there.”

“I could, but I am so fascinated by the city. I sit here and watch people come and go. Oblivious of me and my life. It's quite refreshing.” He stares off as he speaks, being pulled by the passing black coats and briefcases.

My fingers strum across the table as I instinctively reach for his book and then second guess myself and pull my fingers back towards me. He notices and flips the book over so I can see the title. Persuasion by Jane Austen stares back at me. I look at his face, he is enjoying this. I motion towards the book, he nods and I take it. It's a very old hard bound copy with a beautiful illustration inside of Capt. Wentworth standing next to Anne with a note in hand. I knew this story well. It had been a favorite of my English professor's back in college. I wrote a fifteen page gem about what women are actually looking for in a man based entirely on Capt. Wentworth. I got an A. I lied through my teeth.

Confession: Jane Austen is not my favorite. I can almost hear the audible gasps even when I admit it to myself. Having said that, however; this is a beautiful edition. It looks like it's older than me. I gently place it back on the table.

“Persuasion? You don't seem like the type.” He smiles and ignores my comment. He changes the conversation back to me.

“It was recommended by a dear friend. So, nameless soul in front of me, what is your name?” His gaze never leaves me. He sits with his hands together, fingers interlaced. All of his attention is on me. I play with the advertisement on the table, but he doesn't lose contact with me once.

“I thought you would have caught that when they yell it for me to pick up my coffee.” He breaks his gaze for a second and laughs lightly.

“Yes, but I thought it might be slightly unsettling if I said 'Hi Emma, would you care to join me?' Or was I off?”

“No no, spot on, in fact.” spot on? I don't say that. I shake my head slightly with the hope that

he doesn't think I'm mocking him. He noticed and calls me out on it.

“Spot on? Where do you think I'm from?” The rest of the world seems to stand still as we talk and I can't look away.

“I'd guess Europe? What is your name, good sir? I'm not here when you get your coffee.” He is so smug as I wait patiently for him to tell me. I can see his thought process as he decides whether or not to be honest with me. I sit up straight and interlace my own fingers in front of me almost mocking him. He smiles at the gesture, makes up his mind, and I can tell he's chosen honesty.

“It's Ian.”

“Ian?”

“Yes, Ian.”

“I like it.”

“I'm so glad you approve. Would I have to change it if you didn't like it?”

“Yes.” I try to keep a serious face, but we both start laughing. This is fun. I can't remember the last time I had such a lighthearted conversation.

My phone starts to buzz on the table. I pick it up to answer the call. It's a colleague from work, Marques. Ian stops me by putting his hand over mine. I look up at him startled.

“Sorry, it's just, I have to leave and I wanted to say goodbye before you answered. It was great to finally meet you. I'll see you around.” And just like that, he picks up his book and leaves. My phone is still buzzing in my hand, but I don't notice. I just watch as Ian walks out the door. Even after he's gone, I can't take my eyes off of the door he's just left. I know nothing about him, and yet I already miss him.

My phone starts to buzz again and it pulls me back to reality. It's Marques again. I answer it as I stand and leave the coffee shop.

“Emma, are you coming in today?”

“Yeah, I'm on my way in, why?”

“You're just not usually late. We were just making sure you were okay.”

“Of course, but I think you're jumping the gun a little, it's just after 8.?”

“Emma, it's nine thirty.” I drop my coffee cup on the ground, and it's a good thing it's no longer hot as it spills all over my pants. In fact, it's almost ice cold.

“Shut up, no it's not. I just looked at my phone.” I check my watch this time. The faceplate glares at me as the faceplate switches from 9:30 to 9:31.