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Good Science

James Bates

    Social distancing brought us together. It was the seventh week of lockdown and the governor had eased back on state-imposed restrictions about being in public places so I took him up on it. My favorite coffee shop was open for walk-in traffic and take out and I decided to treat myself to a fresh, steaming latte.
    It felt good to stroll from my apartment for three blocks through a pleasant springtime morning and even better to open the door to Carl’s Coffee and get smacked in the face with that roasted coffee bean aroma. Ah, it had been too long. Almost swooning, I moved into line.
    “Hey, buddy!” A zealous manager suddenly appeared, “Six feet, remember?” He pointed to signs on the walls. In my excitement about being out in the world I’d forgotten the six-foot social distancing rule and berated myself for not remembering the drill. Should I make a joke and play my septuagenarian age card with him? No, better not. Why push it?
    He pointed to brightly colored orange circles on the floor with “Six Feet” written on them just to make his point, a picture being worth a thousand words, as they said. I got it. Point made.
    “Sorry,” I said, turning a little red. People were starting to stare. They were also wearing face coverings, something else I’d foolishly neglected to do. Mentally chastising myself, I stepped back quickly and bumped into a tiny woman who squeaked out an “Ouch” when I stepped on her foot. This was getting ridiculous. You’d think after being stuck inside for only seven weeks I’d at least remember how to act in public. But this was pandemic time and things were changing. Still...
    I turned to her as I moved back to the required distance, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.”
    Gray hair fluffed out over the collar of her jean jacket put her in the vicinity of my age. I could tell she was smiling because her eyes were twinkling behind her floral mask. “That’s okay,” she said, then quickly, and thankfully, changed the subject. “Do you live around here?” I was immediately impressed that she didn’t get on my case for not wearing a face covering or berate me for clumsily invading her space, not to mention potentially injuring her foot.
    “I do. I live just a few blocks over,” I said, pointing arbitrarily behind me.
    “That’s nice,” she said. “I’m in town staying with my daughter. I’m from New York City.”
    “Oh, my goodness, did you fly?” I was shocked. Getting on a plane at a time like this with Covid-19 running rampant seemed like an insane thing to do.
    She smiled. “No. Well, yes,” she laughed, understanding where I was coming from. “I flew in a few months ago, before the troubles (as she put it) began.”
    We chatted easily with each other, six feet apart, as the line moved forward. When we got to the counter, I turned to her, “What are you having?” After a brief back-and-forth semi argument, she said, “Well, thank you. I’ll have a latte.”
    Hmm. Same as me. “Two lattes, please.” While the coffees were being made, I had an idea. “Say, would you like to join me?” I pointed outside. “It’s a nice day. For Minnesota in the springtime, anyway. They’ve got their tables set up.”
    “Sure,” she said, “that would be lovely.”
    I paid for our lattes and we took them outdoors. The morning sun was shining brightly warming the day and it felt good to be in the fresh air. We found an empty table, sat six feet apart, and made ourselves comfortable chatting and getting to get to know one another. It turned out we had a lot in common: we both liked to read, go for walks, cook and spend time with our grandchildren.
    During a lull in our conversation, I said, “I don’t mean to be too forward, but I’m having a wonderful time.” She looked at me, raised her mask and took a sip of her latte, then replaced it. She seemed to be waiting for me to continue, so I did, “I was wondering if you’d like to meet again tomorrow.” Her non-committal look worried me. I was enjoying being with her and hoped she felt the same way. “Right here. For coffee,” I added, just to be clear. Was she interested? She was witty and charming and it had been years since I’ll felt so comfortable with a woman. “I’ll even pop for a scone.”
    She eyes crinkled as she laughed, “Well, if that’s the case, how could I refuse?”
    Whew! Relief flooded over me. “That’s great,” I grinned. Suddenly, the pandemic was starting to feel not quite so brutal.
    “There’s only one thing, though,” she said, as her daughter pulled up to the curb and beeped the horn.
    “What’s that?” I asked, standing along with her, wondering if I’d missed something and offended her somehow.
    “Could you please wear a mask tomorrow when we get together? I’d appreciate it.” She pointed. All around everyone was masked up. “It’s good science, you know.”
    “Absolutely,” I said, embarrassed. “I should have known better.”
    “Good,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, same time, same place.”
    I waved good bye as she got in the car and drove off with her daughter.
    One of these days, hopefully, soon, I’ll be able to see that smile of hers. In fact, as I began walking back to my apartment, I found myself looking forward more and more to spending time with her. Her name was Sue. Maybe we’ll be able to ride out the pandemic together and eventually not have to worry about masks and social distancing. I’ve got to believe that one of these days the restrictions will be lifted and she’ll be able to take her mask off. I’d love to be there when she does. I’ll bet her smile is beautiful.

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