had no choice but to accept her curious overture, said “Sure. I’ll get it.”
“Let me get it for you,” Rachel said, starting to get up, intent to play hostess.
“I know where the mugs are.”
“So do I! Please, let me.”
Before Darren could further protest she was up and in the kitchen. Somehow the awkwardness between the two remaining occupants of the room was felt even more profoundly than when they were alone earlier. Luckily this was ameliorated somewhat by Rachel’s shouted questions coming from the kitchen.
“CREAM?”
“Just sugar, please.”
“We don’t do sugar, do we Jo?”
Jo looked mournfully at Darren and answered, loud enough for Rachel to hear, “No sugar on the premises. Sorry.”
“Black then.” Darren accepted his fate and sat at the table. In a mercifully short amount of time, Rachel appeared with a mug which she placed in front of him, then sat in her old seat next to Jo. All three took a simultaneous sip of their sugarless brew, to which Darren commented, “This is good.” And he had ruefully admit to himself that he really meant it; it was outstanding coffee.
“I got it in Hawaii like a year ago, it’s been sitting in my fridge this whole time. Every time I go to someone’s house for coffee it hits me I should have brought it. Don’t I always say that Jo? But today I remembered. Lucky us, right?” They all took another simultaneous sip.
The next twenty or so minutes resembled something of a contest between three people trying to maintain the best semblance of appearing as if this wasn’t a completely odd situation, and Rachel was the clear winner from beginning to end. Darren learned in this moment
10