Olive and the Second William

I shouldn't have called out.

Olive had a tendency of doing this when calling out sick, feeling guilty. But, she couldn't take it anymore. If she had to input one more employee who ended up not even starting on the date she was informed of, she was going to smash her work laptop...at work. Her boss always said they were “willing to help” or “do what was best for the team,” but Olive had taken on the role of three other staff members who had quit over the last year. She reminded herself that her job wasn’t her life and to try and enjoy this day.

As she went to prepare her usual cup of coffee with her usual oatmeal cup filled with dried apples and cinnamon, Olive’s stomach turned at the smell of the hot water pouring over the oats.

Today needs to be different.

She took the day off for a reason, yes? Maybe... she should try that coffee shop she always sees people on their bikes go to.

Twenty minutes later, Olive arrived at said coffee shop. It was on the corner of a somewhat quiet street and served as a brewery at nighttime. The inside was bright, filled with natural light, white walls, and a Tiffany blue espresso machine. The baristas moved at a steady pace, and the space felt warm thankfully and not stuffy. The shop smelt like a lived-in home, from coffee brewing, to the smell of breakfast cooking, and wafts of freshly wetted soil from the indoor plants, while soft classical music played.

Olive settled into a corner. The seating was a long extended bench along the back wall with separated tables. She sat diagonal from an elderly man who seemed like he should be reading the paper but was fiddling with a ring and staring out the window into the neighboring evergreen tree in the parking lot.

As Olive brought out her laptop and awaited the coffee she’d ordered, she couldn’t help but stare at this man.

Sometimes, Olive didn't know what it was; call it a sixth sense, but she could tell when people needed something.

As she kept glancing up at the man from her laptop every few minutes, sipping her coffee, he glanced over at her. "Good morning," she said, cheering her coffee cup to the air against a nonexistent cup.

"Hello, dear," the man smiled awkwardly, looking back down at the ring. "Anything interesting in the paper today?" Olive asked, seeing if her intuition was right. Olive hated when she got like this; she was physically unable to stop herself from talking to this man.

I’m so sorry I’m like this stranger!

“Not even remotely. Property taxes are getting raised again, I guess.” He chuckled and jutted his head toward her laptop. “Are you writing?”

"Attempting to," she sighed sarcastically, " I'm waiting for inspiration to strike. I took the day off to finally enjoy writing, and well, nothing."

The man nodded, acknowledging her words, and then paused before glancing quickly over at her and back to the ring. “Have you ever been to Washington Park? Down in Anacortes?" the man asked.

Olive tilted her head in question. “No? Why do you ask?"

"My son, he used to go there for inspiration."

"Oh! Does he still go there?" Olive said mid-sip and realized...she'd said the wrong thing.

The man sighed deeply and revealed “Actually, today would've been his 30th birthday. I try to do the things he enjoyed most; one of them was having coffee at this place." He made a casual sweep of his hand, indicating the cafe.

A pit formed in Olive’s stomach, she knew what it was like to grieve family.

“I’m so sorry for your loss."

"Oh, it's okay…What did you say your name was?"

Olive set her coffee down and reached her hand out. "It's Olive, what's yours, sir?" He took her hand in his giving a strong shake.

"Bill. Pleasure to meet you and thank you for the condolences. It's been about five years since he passed. It was a hiking accident, but he went doing what he loved."

Olive stared at Bill; he was looking pensively at the ring again, twirling it faster in his hand. "Is that his ring?" She pointed to it.

"Oh, yes. It was his grandfather's. He would always sneak into my room to grab it, and I gave it to him on his 18th birthday. It's the ring his grandfather was given on his wedding day, the blessed ring. The engraving has faded over time, though."

Olive's curiosity grew. "May I take a look at it?"

Bill looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question before shrugging his shoulder. "Sure."

Olive peered at the ring. It was made of some kind of dark red wood with a band of black opal. She could see the red in the opal bouncing off the sunlight through the cafe's windows. It was quite beautiful.

Finally, she looked at the engraving on the inside. Faded though it was, she could still make out, "To my best friend, you have my heart till the end of time." Olive felt the emotions build in her throat and swallowed them down quickly.

"It's beautiful, Bill." She handed it back to him.

"Thanks, Olive. I was lucky to have parents that were so in love. Sadly, my father passed young, and my mother never remarried. That's actually why my son would go out to Washington Park. A bench is out there dedicated to him. My father's name was also Bill; well, three Williams, if you will, I'm the second...obviously" He chuckled shyly.

Olive’s sixth sense was going off again. Before she could even think, she was leaning forward.

“Bill?"

Bill looked up at her, his blue eyes bright in color but sad within. "What's the next thing that your son would've done today?"

Bill, taken aback, had to think for a moment. "I-I guess he would've gone to the bookstore, down south a ways, and then I was headed towards the water to get the muffins he liked and walk up to the spot in Washington Park to see the view. Why do you ask?"

Olive closed her laptop and placed her hands on top of it, looking at Bill with determination. "Do you mind if I join you today, Bill?"

He laughed like she was joking, but Olive held her stare, looking down at him over her glasses as if he could read the thoughts in her head in the singsong voice:

I'm being seriousssss!

"Dear, you don't even know me."

"Sure I do. You're William the second, and today's your son's birthday. Come on, I can drive us. I can drop you back off to your car at the end of the day." Olive said this all as she was packing her bag and headed for the door. Bill, still frozen in what was happening, turned around in his chair, his body half-twisted to look at her in the doorframe.

"Well, come on! Let's seize the day!"

Bill hurriedly got up and couldn't believe what he was doing, but neither could Olive. She had never done anything like this before.

Bill and Olive spent the rest of the day driving to his son's favorite spots and eating his favorite foods. She learned of Bill's life, and he of hers. That day, she grew a friend in a stranger, just because she decided to take the day off. And though she wouldn’t have known it that day, Olive and Bill grew quite fond of each other.

And each year, at that same coffee shop, in that same spot, if it landed on a workday, she was sure to take the day off and not feel guilty about it.