Papa Joe's

Papa Joe's on the corner of Clement Street was where I got breakfast
most days. It wasn't that the food was particularly good - well, it
wasn't exceptional, though they did some fine pancakes with syrup
melting on top, just the way I liked them. Some places did the syrup
way too thick. But like I said, it wasn't the food. I just liked
sitting by the window and watching the neighbourhood come to life. For
me, an easy breakfast was the root of all happiness. It cleared my head
for the rest of the day. But I wasn't too hungry this morning. I
skipped the pancakes and just ordered coffee.

I took my coffee black, but no matter how often I came into the place,
the waitress would always forget and put the milk straight in. I don't
know any other coffee house that has a policy of putting the milk in
the coffee for you. Lucky for Papa Joe I had gotten so fond of his
place, or I'd have to take my business elsewhere.

Papa Joe was leaning on the counter, exchanging wisecracks with a
customer. Well, not exchanging wisecracks exactly. He was cracking them
and the other guy was laughing. The other guy was one of the regulars -
I'd seen him here before, but I didn't know his name. Anyway, he was
laughing at all Papa Joe's jokes. That's how it always was. Everybody
always had to play straight man to Papa Joe. It just wasn't easy
getting a word in. The other guy might have been real funny, too. He
could have been some undiscovered comedian waiting for his big break.
But he wouldn't get it here. That's how it was with Papa Joe.

His name wasn't really Papa Joe, of course - somebody told me it was
Mervyn something - but it might as well have been. Nobody ever called
him anything else. Man, I'd lay odds his mother would take Joe over
Mervyn. Anyway, he looked like a Papa Joe. He was big - real big.
Everything about him was big. It was his place, no doubt about that,
but I'd lay odds it was his world too, and the rest of us were just
passing through. He probably had it in him to be a great dictator or
something like that, so it's lucky he was a nice guy. The worst act of
enforced will I'd ever seen him pull was when he yelled at Doris for
spilling mustard sauce over a customer one time. Or maybe he didn't
yell, I could be wrong about that. He didn't really have to yell. See,
it didn't matter where you sat, you could always hear Papa Joe. Trying
to have a private conversation over coffee, you always felt like you
had a crossed wire somewhere.

It's hard to believe he was a real person - he looked more like a
cartoon. For one thing, he never seemed to change his clothes. Cartoon
people never changed their clothes and nor did Papa Joe. I'd been
coming to the place for months now, and he always had the same yellow
shirt and the same apron with grease stains all down the front. What
did he have to wear an apron for anyway? He was the boss. I guess it
was just because he was a nice guy. He must have been breaking some
health regulation by smoking that thing, but nobody ever made a Federal
case out of it. Hey, he was Papa Joe. And this was his place.

The waitress glided over and poured me another coffee. I had to
forcibly restrain her from adding the milk. I'd seen her here before,
too - on a Tuesday, I think. Yeah, she had the Tuesday shift. She was
quite pretty - not as pretty as Darlene in my building, but still a
pleasant enough sight at this time of day.

I tipped in a little sugar and stirred, then glanced at the paper while
I let the coffee cool down. Someone had been run over on Duke Street
yesterday. It was nobody I knew.

Teddy showed up about nine-thirty. Teddy was a friend of mine, but out
of all my friends I guess he was the one I liked the least. It was
nothing personal - he just had too many irritating characteristics to
ignore. Like the way he always sneezed so violently. And that
remarkable knack he had for stating the obvious and making it sound
like a pearl of wisdom. Talking to him always reminded me of that Bond
film, when Roger Moore is hanging out of a plane and the girl says
"Hang on." I forget which one it was. Live And Let Die, maybe.

Teddy ordered a coffee - white, no sugar. I wonder if the waitress will
start putting the sugar in too?

My coffee was just cool enough to drink. I stirred it quickly one more
time.

"You wanna take the spoon out of that before you drink it."

Teddy was deadly serious. I raised an eyebrow, just like Roger Moore
would have done, and took the spoon out.

"Some poor bastard got run over on Duke Street yesterday," Teddy was
saying. "Nobody I knew. He must have been crossing the street and not
seen the car coming."

It was a pretty safe bet.

"Hey man, the sports page is missing!" Teddy was starting to panic as
he flipped through the paper. He was a big baseball fan. I liked
baseball too, but Teddy went on about it all the time.

That was another thing about Teddy. He never bought his own paper. Not
that he was mean with money - far from it. In fact, I'd lay odds he'd
pick up the bill for breakfast. But he always said that news was for
everybody, that we should share it and not have to pay for it. Maybe he
had a point. But it was still annoying.

I could hear Papa Joe crack another joke. The other guy was still
trying to tell a joke of his own. No chance. It could have been a real
funny joke, too. It could have made Papa Joe laugh a lot. But like I
said, Papa Joe was real big. He might laugh so much that he had a heart
attack. So maybe it was better this way.

"You made a move on Darlene yet?" Teddy was on to Darlene now. A sly
grin was spreading across his face. I'd forgotten how annoying that
grin was. See, the last couple of times I'd seen him, Teddy had been in
one of his bad moods. So I hadn't seen the grin for a while. Yeah, that
was another thing about Teddy - he had a real short fuse. Laughing one
minute, all pissed the next.

I told him I'd been busy.

"Too busy for a broad like that? Come on man, she's divorced, right?
She's just down the hall. When you gonna make your move? The worst that
can happen is she'll say no."

It was the Bond girl thing again. (Which one was it, Thunderball? No,
that wasn't Roger Moore, that was the other guy). I knew the worst that
could happen was she'd say no. Man, that's what I was afraid of. Total
rejection. It didn't get much worse than that.

"Teddy, why don't you run out into the street? The worst that can
happen is you'll get hit by a big truck."

I almost said it, but I guess it wasn't worth it. He'd only get
offended and leave. He seemed pretty upbeat today, so why spoil it?
Still, it was tempting.

Why did he care when I made my move, anyway? He'd already blown his
chance. He stopped her in the hallway with some dumb question about
catching a bus. I guess the plan was to make conversation. But then he
sneezed, big time. All over that new blouse she'd just bought. Man, he
better hope that first impression doesn't last too long.

Actually, I guess it's not Teddy's fault that he doesn't cover his nose
when he sneezes. It would take Olympic-class reflexes to pull that off.
Those sneezes were extraordinary. They just came out of nowhere. One
minute he looked in the prime of health, the next he just blew you
away. And it always happened at the worst possible time.

I wasn't sure about Darlene. Like I said, she was real pretty. And she
had something that Annabel didn't have - a personality. So it would
have to last longer than a couple of nights at least. But Annabel
didn't have a nine-year-old daughter, either. Man, I had enough trouble
just looking after myself. Anyway, she'd seen me with Teddy now. So she
probably figured we were friends.

I took another sip of coffee. Teddy wasn't sitting there any more. He
was leaning over a total stranger at another table.

"Hey man, do you have the sports page there?"

The guy who had been sitting with Papa Joe was just leaving. I thought
about going after him, give him the chance to tell his joke. Or maybe
he didn't have a joke. Maybe he had something serious to say. Something
real important. But it would have to wait.

Teddy was leaving too. But he'd slapped a couple of bills on the table
first. I knew he'd do that. He's way too generous with money. Jacob
Macarelli still owes him a couple of hundred bucks and here he is
paying for my breakfast. He never offered to pay, though. He just
slammed the money down, like I couldn't afford to buy my own lousy
coffee. I wish he wouldn't do it.

The Spy Who Loved Me - that was the one. I think.

Come to think of it, the coffee wasn't lousy. Papa Joe did a decent cup
of coffee. I guess I'd just had so many that I didn't appreciate it any
more. But yeah, the coffee was good. Coffee and pancakes. If they could
just get the milk thing right.