A Fine Plan Zary Fekete   © Copyright 2024 by Zary Fekete

Photo by Laura Tancredi at Pexels

“Bastard,” Laurel said. “Cheap son of a bitch. Did you hear how he talked to me today?”

His larger partner just nodded.

“Idiot,” Laurel continued. “Who does Nelson think he is?”

That helped me. I could picture him now, this Nelson. It was clear from that moment that what we had here was two fine men, probably from the municipal government building next door, fresh on a break from some tedious series of meetings, clearly put under the pile by Nelson.

I edged my chair a bit nearer to the neighboring table to listen closer.

“He never gives me a scrap of credit for anything I say,” Laurel said. “And the one time when the boss backed me up two weeks ago, Nelson immediately pounced in two seconds later with three more suggestions to ride on mine so that he could still overtake my little moment there.”

Hardy nodded and slowly said. “He’s a wicked man.”

Laurel nodded and pointed at his partner in agreement.

They continued to drank their coffee. I sipped my own and allowed their words to reveal their whole existence to me. I could imagine so much about them now. Laurel had a wife probably…maybe even a couple of kids. Hardy was older and was most likely divorced. But he had been married and this gave him a similar outlook on life as his younger comrade. They were both solidly middle-class American…advanced far enough up the chain to have a stake and a share in it, but not high enough to be able to coast along. They had to work at it, mind you, and Nelson wasn’t making it any too easy on them.

I sat back in my chair. Then I nodded vigorously. I could help them.

I had time now, didn’t I? And what kind of person would I be if I didn’t take notice and care in the plight of those with whom I shared this town?

That’s what makes half of life’s problems, isn’t it? People not helping each other. And I’m a step or two closer to the problem now that I’ve listened to them unfold the situation as they have. Good God, I’m to half to blame if I don’t step in now.

I’m going to find Nelson. The municipal building is just next door. Nelson is not out of reach. None of us are. He may simply never have been told…or shown…how things really are down below.

I shook my head and brought myself out of my day dream. Laurel had lapsed into a contemplative silence and Hardy had gone to the front, no doubt to order some more coffee or perhaps a snack.

I cautiously looked at Laurel out of the corner of my eye. He had lank hair hanging over his weak brow. His vacant blue eyes suggested dismal defeat. And I believe they were slightly bloodshot which surely meant a pattern of drinking after work. Nelson! He drove Laurel to this, sure as hell, by God.

Enough. I already know it’s not worth the effort to try to bamboozle Nelson. No, I’ll have to come clean and tell him exactly who I am and what I’ve witnessed down here.

Mr. Nelson, no need to raise your voice, sir. I can hear you fine but it’s actually time for you to listen a change. I’ve heard your men downstairs. They’re good men, you know. Just trying to get by. Time’s hard, in case you didn’t know.

Of course, on second thought, it’s clear this line won’t work on him. He’s a tough man, Nelson is. He’s got a jaunty mustache and he might as well be twirling it. He eats men like Lauren and Hardy and has already done such today.

What then? I might threaten him, I suppose. If I kept my hand in my jacket I could come off like one of those crazed animals who break in to offices near closing time and threaten everyone with a shooting. If I did then Nelson would be amiable to talk. He would clasp his hands together and stand up straight and ask me what I needed. That would be the time to tell him what I’ve heard here in the coffee shop.

Ah, that won’t work either, though. Danger breeds danger and threats only multiply.

Come to think of it, my best course would be to pull my chair over to my neighbors here and tell them what I could do for them.

Gentlemen, I’ve been listening to you for hours now. It’s clear to me what should be done. You need my help. I’m a poet and a writer of some merit. This means I’ve encountered many lives and a good many awful situations. Now what I could do is…

Just at that moment Lauren stood up and nudged Hardy who seemed to have fallen asleep. They scratched their noses and stood up. A moment later they left the coffee shop.

Well, what’s a man to do? I can’t very well move on yet with this weight of knowledge hanging heavy on me. Let’s see, who else needs to know about this? Let me get some of this down on my paper here. Maybe I can share it around and see who else is on their side.

Yes, that’s a good thought. A fine plan.