Bill always thought of himself as a lover. The ladies, however, did not. He brought them roses, they politely declined. He brought them chocolates, they asked to remain friends. He asked girls out, only to have them say no and walk away. Luck was not on his side, especially the day of January 31st.
It was another day at the office and Bill couldn’t crunch numbers. He had worked at Gold & Associates, the number one accounting firm in Washington D.C., for six years and had never missed a day of work. He arrived at 8:30 AM each day, read the front page news, and was working at his desk by 9:00 AM. Despite his work, Bill’s mind often strayed from his job and onto the ladies. That day, he yearned for Jessica.
His obsessions consumed him from time to time, until he asked the subject out, usually with a result much to Bill’s chagrin.
He was finally ready to request a date. When he saw her next, he would pounce on the oppu-
“Bill could you fill this out?”
Bill turned, saw her face, realized the significance of the moment, decided whether or not to talk, attempted to determine what to say in order to woo her, but this was not exact science, this couldn’t be calculated, what if it didn’t even matter what he said, what if he said the right thing in the wrong way, he suddenly questioned whether he wanted this, questioned his motives, questioned his dignity, and took all this into account when crafting the precise words he would say next;
“Uh yeah.”
But as she turned to leave, Bill seized the moment.
“Jessica, I was thinking about how I very much enjoy it when you come by my desk.” Bill rushed through the words, as if each were burning his mouth, and he needed them out. “I was wondering if you would possibly want to grab coffee with me sometime.”
Bill did not get his coffee date. But this was probably the best thing that ever happened to him, because if she had agreed, he never would have heard that radio show. And then, he never would have met Wilma.
By 5:00 PM, he finished his paperwork and left the office. He tuned in to 87.7 FM on most days, but that was the first day he heard the Grinds Cafe ad.
Bill wanted the coffee, of course, considering the liquid’s magical ability to perk him up. As he heard the ad, however, he was instantly drawn in by the angel who was speaking at the other end.
She had a high-pitched voice, but not squeaky. The long “e” at the end of “coffee” was soft and inviting to any potential listeners. It was evident why she received the job.
Love at first sight can be debated, but hearing someone’s voice is more vibrant, making the connection even stronger.
As soon as the ad ended, he became set on finding this woman. He decided to look up the radio station and call to get information on the company or woman herself. He reached for his phone but realized it was dead.
The remaining 30 minutes it took to get home seemed to take forever. The woman hovered in Bill’s mind, blocking anything else from appearing.
“Need something to perk up your day? Stop by Grinds!”
Entering his house, it was as if Bill had known what to do for years. He scrambled to the computer, fingers speeding as he looked up the contact information for the radio station.
He was devastated to find that they only had a number for business inquires; but he did find an address. They were 43 minutes away from his house, 71 from where he worked. Their offices opened at 8:00 AM and closed at 6:00 PM. He glanced at the clock.
6:10 PM.
The remaining 13 hours before he woke up seemed to take 26 forevers, as the woman consumed Bill’s mind, occupying every waking moment.
“Fresh coffee when you need it… The best way to keep you motivated throughout the day!”
The next day, he woke at 7:10 AM, as usual, and headed out the door at 7:50 AM.
The 15 minutes took .5 forevers, but as she enveloped his thoughts, becoming everything that he was, it seemed even longer. It’s strange how forevers can do that, when the mind takes control of them.
That realization is why Bill broke the rules.
He took a right on M Street, and headed down to the station. It was a new sensation, his gut felt strange as he broke the routine, his paranoia creeping up, but he had to do it.
He arrived at the station at 8:37.
The building wasn’t the largest in the city, but it certainly seemed imposing. The building was five stories tall and made of large grey blocks of stone, though the morning sunrise made them look more pink. A sign stood above the revolving door, with the company’s yellow dog logo smiling down at him.
He walked in, signed his name at the security desk, and shuffled over to the building directory.
“87.7 WDOG”, St. 302
He stepped into the elevator, and waited the .008 forevers to get to the top.
When the doors opened, it finally hit Bill. He had no idea with whom he wanted to speak.
“Can I help you?”
Bill wheeled around to face the secretary.
“Err, I'm not sure really. You see yesterday, I was um, well-”
“I don’t bite, quit twiddling your thumbs and speak up.”
Bill looked down to find she was indeed right. He ceased.
“Well, I heard an advertisement for Grinds Cafe and was wondering if you would be able to point me in the direction of someone who could put me in contact with the company.”
“Ryan James. He deals with advertising.”
Bill peeked down the end of the hall, trying to guess which office it was.
“You really could use some coffee in you, huh?” she chuckled. “End of the hall, on your right.”
“Sorry,” Bill squeaked, fleeing the scene. When he reached the end of the corridor, he knocked on the door.
“Hi, my name is Bill Mars, and I was hoping you could, well, help me get in contact with the woman from the Grinds Cafe ad? The one that aired yesterday?”
Ryan called out, “Brenda? You let this mouse in?”
Bill looked to the floor before realizing he was the mouse.
“I’m just messing with you, Bud. Lemme help you out.”
He pulled out a massive drawer of files, thumbing through as he spoke, “Geico, Gordon’s, ah, here we go!” He pulled out a small manilla folder, labelled “Grinds.”
“I think this is what you’re looking for.” He searched through it for a minute, and returned his attention back to Bill.
“Sorry, Bud. No info on the lady. All I got is this address for their company's headquarters, up on K street.”
“That’ll do, please.”
Ryan gave him the full address, and Bill walked out, disappointed, but with hope.
He took the elevator back down, signed himself out, and got back on the road.
Driving, Bill’s palms filled with sweat, as his thoughts played hopscotch in his mind. Would she even want to go out with him? If she said yes to a stranger, she may be just some promiscuous woman pulling his chain. If she said no, he would make a fool of himself, and experience another lonely night. The possible failures seemed endless. He could envision every single one, except the one in front of him. A minivan.
While he wasn’t travelling that fast, his neck snapped forward and his forehead hit the steering wheel. The pain in his head was like an iron pressing on the inside of his skull. The car jolted to a stop with a clang.
It took .0002 forevers, but the moment stuck with him through the years better than most memories. He would forever remember the feeling of being thrust forward and seeing the wheel a split second before he hit it.
Luckily, he wasn’t hurt much beyond his head. He stepped out, woozy. The man from the car in front was screaming at him, but he didn’t hear the words forming a sentence, just words following other words. When Bill came to his senses, he exchanged insurance information and examined the car.
He owned a 1997 Toyota CRV. The outside was a deep forest green, with plush seats on the inside. The bumpers were silver, and as Bill examined the front of the car, he found that it had been thoroughly dented.
This was detrimental to Bill’s morale, but he had to keep going. He had been through enough already to call it quits with no returns. Thus, he ventured on and arrived at the Grinds headquarters.
The building itself was very different than the radio station. It was only one story and had glass windows, through which one could see into the offices. The layout inside, however, was similar to the radio station.
He walked in a laser still penetrating his head.
This time there was no secretary, but a sign in sheet, and directory of employees. He found Tyler Zinc, head of public relations.
He walked into the office with a similar introduction as before. Frankly, much of what he did at the Grinds office he had already done at the radio station. This time though, he had information.
“I’m sorry to inform you that we can't release her contact information” Tyler said. “Her contract doesn't allow it.”
These were the words that Bill had known were coming the entire time. Somewhere along the way, he would find a dead end and it would all be for nothing.
“I can give you the $5 gift card though, as a thank you for being a loyal customer!” Tyler exclaimed, his smile a bitter contrast to Bill’s mood.
“What a consolation prize,” Bill muttered, taking the card.
He stepped out of the office, left the building, and headed for his car, which would be taking him to the local Grinds. After all, he did have a splitting headache.
The car ride to the store was about as long as the first forever, but it was a different kind. That’s the other thing Bill learned about forevers. Sometimes they’re because you never want the moment to end, but other times, that same end seems impossibly far away.
He pulled into the parking lot, driving carefully, considering his first accident.
Bill walked into the cafe, and was enveloped in smooth jazz and the soft chatter of people getting their caffeine fix.
He ordered at the counter. A large mocha. He hadn’t had one in while, maybe 10080 forevers. The cashier told him to wait at a table. The clock behind the counter read 11:34 AM.
He put his head in his arms, the pain was a throbbing sensation by now. It hit him that it had been for nothing. He would get in trouble for skipping work. And what would he have to show for it? Nothing. A dent in car the size of a basketball? Zilch. A journey that took 3.5 hours? 46 cents on a coffee shop gift card. Was the journey worth the cost? It didn’t feel like it, until Bill heard the three words that changed his life.
With his head down in his arms, he never saw her coming. But he still recognized the voice, which sounded like a choir that had combined their voices into one person: Wilma.
“Your coffee, sir.”