A Conversation with Mrs. Wendell

Eden Monroe rushed out the door.

That blasted, not-so-faithful alarm hadn’t gone off. And now, because of that stupid alarm, she was running late.

She hated being late.

Running toward All Café Long, her home away from home, she realized she had a big problem. If she arrived later than 7.30 a.m., her seat, her spot, would most definitely be occupied by someone else. And if that happened, her whole day would be…ruined.

The thought of losing her spot, spurred her on as she ran down the narrow path toward her favorite coffee shop. She knew the shortcut like the back of her hand. So well, in fact, that she could have darted down the road blindfolded.

Make it on time!

She looked at her phone and nearly tripped over a small pile of pebbles strewn along the path.

What the heck?

She groaned frustrated by this delay, as time kept ticking away.

Being late is for slackers.

And Eden Monroe was not a slacker. She was determined to make her dreams come to fruition and refused to cave to the so-called normal life. The husband. The 2.3 children. The white-picket fence. And the house in the suburbs.

That’s simply not me…?

As she hastily turned around the corner, her eyes locked on the café’s entrance. And the moment she let out a sigh of relieve (prematurely), dread overtook as she noticed an elderly lady enter, moments ahead of her.

No, no, no! Not…today!

She picked up the speed and entered the cozy coffee shop like a hurricane.

When the door smashed into the wall as she lost her grip on it, she instinctively lifted her shoulders and flinched at the noise. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she looked apologetically at Jaxx, the coffee guy, mouthing 'I’m sorry,' to him. As per usual, he simply shook his head with a cheerful chuckle making her instantly feel at ease.

To be fair, it wasn’t the first time she had scrambled through the door at All Café Long early on a Sunday morning like a torrential typhoon.

Eden wondered whether being at her favorite café on a Sunday morning was any indication that maybe she needed...to get a life. That maybe she needed to connect more with…people, as in living and breathing human beings.

No, she was happy. She was content. Yes. She. Was.

She had her stories and her book buddies. They were all the friends she needed.

“Good morning, Miss Eden,” Jaxx said smiling, looking at her with a twinkle in his eyes. Or so it appeared. His eyes always twinkled. She mumbled a brief greeting, zooming in on the elderly woman walking towards…

No! Stop! Not gonna happen.

She zoned in on her table in the corner, and surged through the café, trying to push past the lady…but…

Language, not suitable for children, started to pile up in Eden’s mind as the lady slowly and carefully eased behind the narrow space and pulled out the chair…her chair, at her table.

She mumbled, and tried hard to appear calm and collected. But the woman must have had strong spidey-sense because she looked up at Eden with astute awareness.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, dear,” she said softly. Instant rush of guilt ran through Eden's veins. She had been impatient and right out rude.

What was wrong with her? This wasn’t her style.

When Eden's shoulders sagged like a deflated balloon, the elderly lady's blue eyes shone with unexpected energy as she shuffled in her place.

This woman was strangely familiar. Like she was…

“Did I take your spot, dear?” the lady asked. Eden straightened her back, taken aback by the woman's perceptiveness, but she wasn’t going to admit to her own bratty attitude to…a stranger.

Was the woman a stranger?

“Uhm…Well…” Eden stammered, not sure what to say.

“Oh dear…let me move…”

“No, it’s…” She was certain she looked like a lobster. This was embarrassing.

But it was what she…wanted...right? She wanted her spot back.

“It’s fine, Ma’am…” Eden tried again, apologetically.

“You can call me, Mrs. Wendell, dear…The table is yours.”

Eden realized she had been holding her breath and a subtle smile appeared on her lips. She'd got what she wanted. Her day was saved.

Ugh. This was awkward.

“Thank you…Mrs. Wendell.” What else could she say. No reason to let a good seat go to waste.

Both women took their respective places, and Eden began to unpack her backpack. She unloaded her computer, keyboard, mouse, notebook, book, pens, and headphone onto her table, with little room for any refreshments coming her way. She got it covered.

Mrs. Wendell, on the other hand, took out a single book from her small and dainty purse.

The contrast didn’t escape Eden’s notice. Her eyes fluttered to what Mrs. Wendell was reading but she quickly looked away, and kept her head down. She didn't want to pry. And anyone who knew her well, was well aware she wasn’t a morning person and avoided conversing with others that early at all cost.

Focus on the screen.

A few minutes passed before Jaxx came walking toward them with his tray, bringing them coffee and scones.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were one and the same,” he chimed happily, pointing out they had ordered the exact same drink and treat.

Black coffee, with one teaspoon of sugar, and a splash of milk, topped with cinnamon. And a scone, cut in half and evenly buttered on both sides.

What were the odds?

“Stranger things have happened,” Mrs. Wendell chuckled sweetly, beaming at Jaxx. It didn't escape Eden's attention he looked good this early in the morning. She smiled to herself, trying to ignore the fact he lingered a beat too long.

Once Jaxx left them to enjoy their morning, as Eden had expected, much to her dread, Mrs. Wendell turned to face her. “What is a young woman like you doing here on a Sunday morning?”

What does anyone do at their favorite café on a Sunday morning?

Not really knowing how to answer without sounding rude or dismissive, Eden cleared her throat and tried to be accommodating. She felt compelled to make an effort, since Mrs. Wendell had given back her seat. “It’s what gets me out of the house in the morning,” Eden admitted, which wasn't all that far from the truth.

“How does your husband feel about that?”

Presumptuous!

“I don’t have one,” Eden quickly replied, dryly.

“You will my, dear…you are still young and have much to offer.”

Seriously? How could she know that?

Eden hid the frown behind her coffee cup. Unable to hide the dislike she felt their conversation had taken, her strong reaction bubbled forth. “Not everyone wants to be tied down.”

Ashamed by her abrupt and defensive tone, she was about to apologize when Mrs. Wendell laughed brightly, easing the tension. “You are very right, my dear. But let me tell you a story..."

"Is it about a young woman?" Eden scoffed, wondering whether there would be a not-so-subtle lesson for her to learn in the end. There always was.

But Mrs. Wendell chuckled lowly and nodded, and said, "Much like yourself, dear."

Surprise, surprise.

Eden looked at her laptop and wanted to return to the friends waiting for her behind the strokes of her keyboard. It's where she felt most herself. Since she was aware of social etiquette, and the importance of showing general politeness, she slightly turned her chair signaling to Mrs. Wendell to continue her story. And so she did.

"The woman in my story was brilliant, beautiful, and inspiring...and she used many hours creating heroic men, using every possible adjective from her online Thesaurus, concocting tortured backstories and rich emotional lives." Mrs. Wendell was a good storyteller, that much was evident, so Eden remained silent, whilst enjoying her scone and special brew.

"She was independent and self-sufficient, and while she designed men of great stature, with steel-hard abs and sharp cheekbones..." Eden's coffee went down the wrong way, which caused Mrs. Wendell to pause, furrowing her eyebrows with amusement. "Are you okay, dear?"

"Aha," Eden croaked with an eager nod of her head. Instinctively, she glanced over to where Jaxx was assisting early risers, and was rewarded with a kind smile. Blushing, she returned her attention to the older woman that had clearly noticed the brief interaction judging from the knowing grin on her lightly painted lips.

"The woman was so lost in her make-believe world, she couldn't see the real-life man trying to win her heart..." the woman continued.

"Then he played it too safe," Eden murmured, at which Mrs. Wendell chuckled.

"You might be right."

Of course she was right.

"Long story short, the young woman never married, but she went on to write best-selling novels portraying the kind of men all women dream of." Mrs. Wendell lifted her cup with a shaky hand, and took a sip of her coffee. "But she was happy and had no regrets."

A pregnant pause lingered in the air and Eden wondered whether that was the end of this strange tale. She had to admit the whole scenario was a bit confusing.

Was there a lesson in there she'd missed?

She had expected a mixture of comedy and drama, ups and downs, highs and lows, ending with a big plot twist. But Mrs. Wendell's story contained none of the usual ingredients to captivate the audience (if one person was considered audience).

"Is that it?" Eden asked when the pause stretched into awkward silence.

"Oh no, the story never ends, that's the point, love."

She didn't get it. All stories end, unless it's an ongoing series, but even series end at some point. That's just how it goes. That's life. And that's exactly why Eden thrived in her made-up world, where she could control the ending. And if there was a development she didn't particularly like, she always had the option to rewrite the scene, or shelf it.

“The moral; do what you love but be balanced…and don’t forget to look up.” Although Mrs. Wendell's face beamed with joy, there was a trace of sadness hiding behind the blueness of her eyes as she added, "All I want is more time with him.”

The twist. A man. There was always a man.

Eden's heart went out to Mrs. Wendell. She could only imagine the pain of losing someone you loved. Well, she didn't have to imagine. She already knew.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wendell," Eden finally said in a low voice.

"I didn't lose anything, Miss Monroe..." the woman responded with a mischievous grin.

"But you said..."

"Remember, no regrets, and she lived a happy life..."

Now, Eden was at a loss, and she wondered if she was still dreaming and had in fact never woken up.

Weird.

"But your husband," she began, trying to get to the bottom of Mrs. Wendell's conflicting statements.

"I never got married," Mrs. Wendell quipped, rising with difficulty from her chair. The sound of the feet scraping against the concrete floor pierced the quiet and serene atmosphere of coffee shop, drawing the barista's attention to their secluded corner, once more.

"I don't understand, Mrs. Wendell," Eden said pointedly, but the old lady brushed the words to the side and chuckled lowly, amused.

"I took my husband's name before I met him, and I have faith in you," Mrs. Wendell explained, as if that would clarify everything.

It didn't.

As Eden stared at the foamed heart, coating her comforting drink, she wondered if her coffee had been spiked with a hallucinogen. What else would explain this wildly offbeat exchange with a stranger from another dimension?

“Today, is your time, Eden Monroe…Choose the road that gives you the best of both worlds…Look up sooner than I did, and it will only add to our life."

Mrs. Wendell moved with the quiet determination of a life long-lived. As bewildered as Eden was by the mysterious conversation, she couldn't help the smile spreading over her lips. And something she hadn't been aware of before untangled in her heart.

She watched Jaxx turn his full attention to Mrs. Wendell and opened the door for her.

What a gentleman!

“Thank you, Mr. Wendell,” the older woman singsonged. And just like that, the pieces in Eden's mind fell into place. She finally understood.

There comes a day in every person’s life when you have a choice to make, to follow your head…or your heart. Both paths can lead to a long and happy life. It depends on your perspective. And it's all a choice. But for most of us we don't get a do over.

That day, Eden Monroe was given the chance to do both and experience the best of both worlds. After all, it was a piece of advice she had given herself:

Look up and be present. Try something new.

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