By Noon

Like clockwork my alarm went off at 5:30 am. Restroom, shower, teeth brushed. I put on my signature attire; black leggings, grey top. The only variation – black flats rather than black boots. Same routine, different day. I made my coffee the way I like it, hazelnut creamer and heavy on the coffee. I was ready to tackle the day ahead.

—-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —--

I was driving the route I drive every day to work, like the rest of me, this too is predictable. And then something unexpected happened, or was it divine intervention? Where I would normally turn, the road was closed with detour signs and orange cones blocking the way. My head started to spin as I tried to decide what to do. My work was located at the end of this street and here I was stuck on the other side.

I decided to turn around and go to the little cafe on the corner, Ronnies Coffee & Dreams, to assess my situation. Once parked, I sat in my car and called the office. Tammy answered after the call was routed to her work cell.

“Are you kidding me Tammy? They tore up the whole street! They could have let us know.” I frantically exclaimed.

“I know, right? I just got off the phone with Jeremy and he says take the day off and enjoy the weekend. I know I will!”

Tammy had a husband and kids, so it was no wonder she sounded especially happy with an unexpected three day weekend. Whereas I was feeling more panicked and anxious with only myself to consider.

“Ok, thank you Tammy. See you Monday.”

I hung up with a feeling of dread. How was I going to spend my time today? How was I going to pivot from my usual?

I do not do well with change. The last time plans unraveled, so did I. I remember sitting on my bed, still dressed for something that never happened, staring at the wall until the light outside shifted from afternoon to evening. Since then, I seldom make plans. I don’t accept invitations. I go nowhere unnecessary.

Structure feels safer to me. Predictable feels survivable by nature.

This was going to be a day out of the norm for sure, for in that moment I desperately needed something different. I swallowed hard, grabbed my bag, and opened the car door.

—- —- —- —- —- —-

I had been sitting at the circular table for nearly an hour at Ronnies when the little bell above the door jingled. I glanced up from my book and saw the most beautiful pair of blue eyes staring back at me. I gave a little half smile to the person owning the eyes, and as I did so, so did he. For whatever reason, my shoulders softened, the pains in my gut subsided, and a sense of calm rippled through me.

He scanned the area with the look of someone searching for someone, just not sure who was to be searched out.

“Hello,” he said as he crossed the short distance between my table and the door. He had brown hair, with the build of someone used to hard work. That coupled with his amazing blue eyes and a smile a river wide, words had no meaning to me right then.

“I noticed the lights on the blue car outside have been on for a bit now, is it yours?”

Suddenly, words did have meaning.

I leaned back a little and glanced through the windows of the front door to look. Sure enough, I left my lights on.

“Oh gee! Thank you so much! Crap, I hope it will start!” I quickly stuffed my book in the bag, along with the remains of the muffin in its tin. Grabbing my to go cup of coffee I headed through the door to my car.

—- —- —- —- —- —- —- —-

I slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key halfway, waiting. My chest tightened in preparation for disappointment.

What would be the worst thing if it didn’t start?

I’d need a jump.

And as I rushed past the blue eyed stranger moments earlier, I’d noticed the stitched lettering across his coveralls - the name of the local auto shop next door.

These thoughts surprised me. I wasn’t spiraling nor was I feeling immobilized. My head didn’t feel heavy with the pressure of doubt.

I was… considering help from a stranger.

—- —-- —- —- —- —- —- —-

The engine sputtered once. Twice. Then fell silent.

I exhaled, long and slow.

One leg still hung outside the car, the door open, morning air brushing against my calf just below my leggings. I hadn’t completely turned the key off when I heard-

“Looks like she’s thinking about it,” he said gently.

I glanced up to see him standing near the hood.

“Go ahead and try it once more. If she still won’t start I can take a look for you. I work right there.”

He pointed across the lot to the auto shop.

Realizing I hadn’t turned the lights off the first attempt, I clicked the knob and shut the door, remembering the dome light had been on too.

Calmly this time, I turned the key.

The engine came to life.

“Woohoo!” I shouted, punching the air in relief.

I should have driven away.

Instead, I turned the car off, opened the door, and stepped out.

Extending my hand toward him, I said, “I’m Anna, thank you again... Paul.”

I let my eyes flick briefly to the stitched name across his chest before meeting his gaze.

“Had I waited much longer, I doubt it would’ve started.” My voice didn’t waiver.

He smiled as he took my hand. His grip was steady, and warm.

Neither of us seemed in a hurry to let go.

“Well,” he said, glancing toward my car, “most people would’ve peeled out of here by now.”

I let out a small laugh. “Most people probably have somewhere to be.”

“And you don’t?”

“Apparently not.” I gestured toward the blocked street in the distance. “My office is on the other side of that mess. We got the day off.”

He nodded slowly. “Unexpected freedom.”

The phrase made my stomach tighten.

“I’m not great with the unexpected,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

He studied me thoughtfully. “You don’t seem like someone who likes to waste time.”

“I don’t,” I said. “I also don’t like waiting around for things that may not show up.”

There it was. A sliver of truth, slipping out.

He didn’t pry or ask what that meant.

Instead, he said, “There’s a place down the street that makes a solid burger. Nothing fancy. But it’s good.” A small shrug. “If you’re not rushing back to anything.”

Lunch.

My mind betrayed me immediately.

I saw myself months ago, dressed and ready, waiting for my date. Telling myself it didn’t matter if he never showed up. Telling myself I didn’t care.

Structure feels safer. Predictable feels survivable. Lonely feels familiar.

Paul shifted slightly, hands sliding into his pockets. “I own the shop so I can come and go as I please.” He nodded toward the shop. “But no worries, if not.”

I looked at him more carefully then and realized something uncomfortable.

It wasn’t the road that kept me from moving forward. Nor was it the date who stood me up.

It was me.

The cones, the torn-up pavement, the sputtering engine — none of it had trapped me.

I had.

“I don’t usually say yes,” I heard myself admit.

He gave a half smile. “Maybe today’s different.”

The word settled between us.

Different.

I glanced back at the closed street once more. Then at my still-open car door.

“I suppose,” I said slowly, “there’s no harm in lunch.”

His smile widened, obviously pleased. “I’ll take no harm.”

And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like I was bracing for disappointment.

—-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —---

After locking my car, Paul and I walked along the sidewalk, keeping pace with each other.

The morning air felt different somehow – lighter, or maybe that was just me.

A breeze caught the loose strands of my hair, and I didn’t rush to tuck them back in place.

A few hours ago, I had been the woman who memorized her routes, who avoided detours, who measured her days in predictable increments.

Now I was walking beside someone I’d met because my plans had fallen apart — and I wasn’t calculating the risk. I wasn’t rehearsing disappointment. I was simply there.

Like clockwork, my alarm had gone off at 5:30 that morning.

But by noon, I wasn’t watching the clock at all.