Brougham

He sat in the coffee shop trying to balance his checkbook. While he made most of his payments online, he still chose to pay some bills the old-fashioned way. Having turned seventy a few weeks ago, he felt that it was important to live his life the way younger people lived, but he also believed that holding onto even small links to the past helped to keep his memory alive and well.

He had no proof of this, of course, but he was happy to tell himself it mattered. That was one reason why he held onto his silver, 1976 Oldsmobile, Cutlass Supreme Brougham. He still loved the car. He drove it almost every Saturday afternoon, always making sure it had been washed and, when necessary, polished. The brougham moniker still tickled him.

When he bought it, as a 22-year-old, the word somehow signified something upscale to him. The car had been his gift to himself. A Nashville native, he had just graduated from Vanderbilt University. Thanks to Google, he eventually discovered that the historical definition of brougham is a horse-drawn carriage with a roof. That added a bit of cachet to his prized possession.  

His checkbook balanced, he sipped his coffee and looked out the coffee shop window at his Cutlass. Although he lived only a half-block away, it was Saturday. Maybe he would take a ride to the supermarket when his work was done. The sun was shining directly onto the car’s hood. It was so bright; he didn’t notice the coffee shop door open. It was Cara Burke, a woman he had served with on a town committee. The committee’s mission was to help local businesses grow.

“Luke! I haven’t seen you for I don’t know how long!” She was a handsome woman, a few years younger than Luke and a good six inches taller than he was.

“Cara, how are you?” His 5’6” frame stiffened. They had had an argument the last time they were together over how to initiate a shop local program. In Luke’s opinion, they had both crossed the line, over the edge of civility, not by much, but it made the group uncomfortable.

“Well, I can tell by the look on your face that you are just thrilled to see me,” she said, managing a smile.    

“Sorry, I’ve been balancing my checkbook. It tends to make me grumpy.”

Cara went to the counter to order a large coffee. She turned to Luke and asked, “Do you need a refill?”

“Actually, I do.” He closed his laptop and unplugged it.

She came back to his table and sat. “Do you mind?”

“No. It’s nice to see you again, Cara. Thanks for the coffee.”

“No need to thank me, refills are free.”

“Oh, right.”

They chatted politely for a while about the town and the way their lives were going. Cara’s husband passed away just nine months ago. He had suffered from a rare form of cancer.

Luke, a widower for ten years now, mentioned that he was planning a road trip out west, to Montana and Wyoming. “Those are the only states I haven’t visited,” he said.

As he was taking his last gulp of coffee, he noticed the sun had disappeared. It had grown dark with threatening clouds overhead. “I need to get my car home and into the garage,” he said.

Cara looked outside. “Goodness, I walked here. It looks like I’m going to be here for a while or take my shower early.”

Luke smiled. “Where do you live?” The downpour arrived. It was an effort not to bolt out of his seat and run for his car. He had no desire to drive any further than absolutely necessary.  

“I’m about two miles from here, maybe a bit more than that,” Cara said, sensing Luke’s discomfort. “Maybe my daughter can come get me.”

“Where does she live?”

“Knoxville.”

They both laughed. He remembered now that she had a fine sense of humor. “I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s the least you can do. I did carry that hot cup of coffee to you, didn’t I? And I didn’t spill a drop,” she added.

He noticed that her paper cup was still half full. He pointed and said, “You know you can’t take that with you, right?’

“Even if I put the lid on it?” She brushed back her hair and grinned.

“Sorry, nope. Ready to go?”

They galloped to his car and jumped in. “Oh my,” she said, “velour seats. I might get some raindrops on them. Will that be a problem? I can ride on the roof if I need to.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “I think I remember now why we never got along so well.” He bit his lip to keep from laughing.

She took in his wire framed glasses and crew cut. “That’s funny. I thought maybe you had a thing for me.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m well out of practice when it comes to romance.” He shrugged.  “I put all my energy into this car.” After the words came out of his mouth, he realized how that might have sounded to Cara. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I wasn’t offended,” she said. “Being compared to a beautiful classic car isn’t all bad at my age.”

He drove her home and pulled into the driveway.

“Thank you,” she said. “Would you be interested in another cup of coffee?”

Luke glanced in her direction. “Another time. I want to get this baby into my garage.”

They said their goodbyes and he headed home. The storm got worse.

The rain pounded his car, sounding like a drum solo. He smiled and tapped the steering wheel, keeping time with the drumbeat. Even a million raindrops couldn’t hurt his beloved Cutlass. After all, it was a Brougham.