Forget

Portland was wet. The rain never seemed to cease, but, surprisingly, that didn’t bother me. I kind of enjoyed my morning walk in the rain and I only lived six, quick blocks from work.

Five nights a week I worked as a waitress at a little cafe called Ranier. It smelled like cigarettes and baby power, was dimly lit, and the black-top tables had poetry scratched them them. Angry nineties rock blared from speakers by the counter and indie movies played silently on the TVs around the place. The vibe was always laid back and, in the year I’d worked there, I couldn’t recall a single bad day. Ranier was a haven.

On Thursday nights at exactly seven my favorite customer would walk in. Too stubborn to carry an umbrella, he would always walk in soaked to the bone, his dark hair in his face. Despite his downtrodden appearance, Rafe was a magnificent guy and never failed to bring a smile.

“Lovely Amy,” he said at he sat down at the table in the corner, “how was your day?”

I couldn’t help but smile. Rafe opened up with the same line each week and would offer up a blue-eyed grin with it. He said it was his life goal to wear me down. I was all ready his; we both knew that, but I liked to pretend.

“I saw the sun for five minutes today,” I said as I poured black coffee into his favorite blue mug.

“Always a good day when the sun shines.” He smiled and his eyes glittered with laughter. Rafe emanated sunshine. It could be the darkest, cloudiest day and Rafe would still brighten the room.

I went back to work, casting occasional glances at Rafe. He politely ignored me, absorbing himself in a tattered paperback instead. At exactly nine, he got up and left, winking at me on his way out.

Every week was exactly the same. I was normally a restless person; the move to Portland from Miami had been because of that. I’d craved new scenery after only two months. Portland had made me complacent, though, and the weekly repetition didn’t seem to bother me like it would have in Miami or Annapolis or Raleigh or Tuscon. For once, I was happy with a boring life, but I would wish otherwise.

July 4 was a huge day at the coffee shop. Ranier was crammed with people all day. Most of them were tourists sporting state t-shirts and holding maps. They all wanted to be in the day rose gardens when the fireworks display started.

At seven it became just another Thursday, though. Rafe walked through the door, a smile playing on his lips.

“Lovely Amy,” he said as he sat down on a stool by the counter, “the sun is still shining. You had a good day, I take it?”

I grinned and leaned against the counter. “Wonderful day and lots of customers. Met a woman from Brussels today.”

“Brussels?” His beautiful, thick dark eyebrows arched in interest. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.”

“She was wonderfully erratic; you would have loved her.”

Rafe nodded. Occasionally, he would bring friends in with him and it seemed that the stranger and more random they were the closer to them he was. I briefly wondered if he saw me as someone eccentric and that was why he gravitated towards me, but I let it go. Maybe I was just different.

“I would have liked to meet her.” His expression became solemn as he drank his coffee from his favorite mug. “I’ve always wanted to visit Brussels. It seems interesting.”

“I’ve never looked into it.”

Rafe let out a gasp of mock shock and wagged a disapproving finger at me.

“Beautiful city with tons of shops and rows of places to get gorgeous chocolates. The museums and galleries are supposed to be some of the best in the world. And they have the Atomium!” He frowned at my blank look as he reached for his mug. “Huge statue built for the World Fair of an atom.”

“Well, it sounds great, Rafe.”

He nodded as he sipped at the lukewarm mocha. “When I go, Amy, you should be with me. I think it would be good for you to see the world.”

I smiled. In the past two years, I’d lived in fourteen American cities and been to Toronto and Mexico City. It may not have been some fantastic Euro trip, but I’d done more than most. And if I left Portland, would I ever really want to return to the monotony of it? Would the fast-paced life of the bigger cities lure me in? and what about the pull from their music scenes?

“I don’t think I could ever leave Kansas,” I sighed, pushing myself away from the counter.

Rafe shook his head. “You never want to be stuck, though, Dorothy. Oz could give you a whole new outlook on life.”

“Just talking to you gives me a whole new outlook on life.”

He smiled. “Then you’re halfway there.”

Rafe kept me talking about hopes and dreams until nine and then he grabbed his coat.

“Where do you go when you leave here?”

“The moon, the stars, my own private galaxy.” His voice was oozing with playfulness, but I could believe him.

Rafe was the kind of person that could say he frequented Mars and I would nod, no questions asked. You just didn’t find guys like him on Earth. He was too satisfied with life, funny, intelligent, and adventurous to be from this planet. I could tell you right now that I would gladly marry Rafe.

“Kidding,” he said when I didn’t reply. “I go for a walk through the gardens and then I usually go home, in bed by time. It’s not like I leave here and become Superman.” He shrugged into his jacket. “Nope, I’m Clark Kent all the time.”

“Well, Clark, mind if I join you on your evening stroll?”

His eyes lit up even more than usual, if that was even possible. “The day I’ve been waiting for has finally come, Dorothy.”

I laughed and shook my head. Truth be told, I’d been waiting for this, too. Now my heart was hammering and my stomach was twisting. It wasn’t often when I met a guy whose company I truly enjoyed, so I got overly nervous when I did. If Rafe was a quick fuck and an awkward breakfast it would be no big deal, but I could feel he was so much more than that.

“Leaving!” I shouted to my boss, who had holed himself up in his office at noon. He could handle closing alone.

I grabbed my coat off the rack and went out the door, which Rafe had held open for me. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gone out with a gentleman.

We walked through the gardens, weaving through tourists and holding hands like lovesick teenagers all the while. He walked close to me so I could feel his body next to mine and it lulled me into a sense of security. Having him near was such a new feeling. I chastised myself for not allowing this closeness sooner.

As we turned the corner of a random street, Rafe pulled me against the building. I cocked my head to the side, my body surging with heat.

“I’ve had my eye on you from the moment I met you,” he said, his voice taking on a new husky tone I found myself wanting to devour.

“Now you have me,” I said, snaking my arms around his neck.

He lowered his head, nuzzling his nose against mine, and pressing his body so close to my own. Something in my abdomen exploded in white, hot sparks and I pulled him flush against me, knotting my fingers in his hair. The kiss was a tangle of lips, clashing tongues, and biting teeth. How long had it been since I’d felt this kind of passion?

As his hands pulled at the hem of my t-shirt, the unmistakable sound of a gun’s hammer being pulled back hit my ears. Rafe and I pulled apart and I was immediately looking down a dark gun barrel.

“Hand over your watch or I blow your girl’s brains out.”

My heart stopped as Rafe fumbled with his drug store watch. The teenager wielding the gun let his his eyes wander greedily over my chest before the watch was offered to him.

“All right, nice,” he said, examining the time piece. “Now, Blondie,” he stuffed the watch into his pocket and grinned toothily at me, “I want you to lift your shirt up.”

My mouth dropped. “E-Excuse me?”

“Your tits, I want to see your tits.” He waved the gun in my face.

“Look, man, you all ready have the watch,” Rafe said, putting his hand on mine. “There’s no need to humiliate the girl.”

The boy’s face scrunched up in anger. “Man, who asked you?” he shouted, the gun now pointed at Rafe. “Shut the fuck up while your girl here shows me what she’s got.”

“No.”

Rafe,” I squeaked. My fear was causing sweat to drench my body, my t-shirt was sticking to me, and I felt about to faint from the adrenaline rushing through me. I just wanted to get this over with.

“Look, even she wants to do it,” the boy chuckled.

A spasm of pain and anger spread over Rafe’s face as he looked at me and then at the gun. “I said no.”

The boy quit laughing and pushed the gun against Rafe’s forehead. “Come on, Sweetie, show your tits or Superman here is going to paint that wall,” he pointed at the building with his free hand, “with his brains.”

I lifted my shirt up, not even pausing to think about it. The situation was humiliating and degrading, but I cared more for Rafe than any trace of modesty I’d retained over the years.

The boy practically salivated like a male dog trailing after a bitch in heat. “you’re one lucky motherfucker,” he whispered to Rafe. The boy reached up with his free hand and gave my left breast a firm squeeze.

My eyes welled with tears and Rafe’s face contorted with fury. Before I could react, Rafe had thrown his right fight into the mugger’s jaw. The kid stumbled and Rafe took advantage of the confusion and let fists fly. The gunman fell onto the pavement spitting blood and cursing.

“Motherfucker, I got a gun!” the boy screamed, wielding the weapon.

“Youv’e got that gun like you’ve got brain, Boy!” Rafe shouted. “You may have it, but you aren’t fucking using it!”

The gun went off, a shrill bang followed by my banshee scream. Overhead, fireworks were blasting in a technicolor array; the display had started.