beginning of story

After an hour of sitting there staring blankly at the patterns on the wooden table in front of him, Joe finally looked up. The coffee in the mug at his elbow had grown cold but he drunk it anyway, barely tasting the now-flavorless beverage. Usually, he enjoyed watching people in the airport come and go; harassed-looking parents with screeching children in tow, elderly couples who shambled alone, taking a moment to rest and comment on various “young hooligans”, or the businessmen in sleek black suits, every now and then smoothing out a crease visible only to their eyes.

The young waitress that had been leaning against the cash register surveying him caught Joe’s eyes. Smoothing unruly strands of red hair behind her ears, the girl slipped over to him, nervous eyes flitting from Joe’s face to somewhere in the distance. Though Joe knew from previous conversations that she was close to graduating college, there was something about her that made her seem much younger. Perhaps it was her voice, brimming with innocence and enthusiasm, or maybe it was the manner in which she carried herself, always looking at her feet or clasping her hands behind her back.

“Joe?” She asked.

He was surprised she had remembered his name. He caught a flight once a year to see his parents who lived in San Francisco, and every time he would arrive four hours early to sip coffee in Starbucks. He figured that maybe if he drank enough caffeine he could somehow make the next two weeks more tolerable and a lot less awkward. Visits with his parents usually consisted of silences that extended for as long as ten minutes, followed by a bumbling attempt of a joke from his father and a polite life from his mother. Then, there would be the questions as the two tried to catch up with Joe’s life, sometimes asking questions about girlfriends that Joe had stopped seeing a year ago, or inquiring if he ever got that promotion he was hoping for. He would patiently explain to them that no, they weren’t going out, or the engagement was off, and he’d had three jobs since then.

All that, however, was tolerable compared to the inevitable conclusion of those two arduous weeks. Sooner or later Joe’s father would end up dissolving into his infamous tirades, during which his face would turn purple and the vein on the side of his neck would bulge out. He would be almost comical as he stomped around his chair, waving his arms frantically around his head as though chasing off a swarm of bees. His mother would end up sobbing, rocking back and forth, and then having a meltdown in which she shouted like a banshee and through china plates at anyone who tried to comfort her. The whole scene was bound to be dysfunctional and disturbing.

“Are you okay, Joe?” Cassie demanded, waving her hand in front of his face.

“I guess,” Joe murmured, glancing at her nametag quickly. “Cassie.”

“Mmmkay,” Cassie said doubtfully, grabbing the chair beside Joe. It scraped against the chair as she dragged it towards her and sat down in it.

“So, what’ve you been doin’ lately?”

Cassie shrugged, looking down at her hands. “Same old same old. Dropped out of college. Wasn’t doin’ too well, you know, not enough time to study. To busy lookin’ after my mom.”

“Oh, right. Didn’t you say...I mean, didn’t she...” Joe trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the question.

“She had breast cancer,” Cassie answered quickly, affirming Joe’s suspicions.

“Had?” Joe asked.

“She’s been dead for a while,” Cassie murmured.

Joe couldn’t think of anything suitable to say to Cassie so he just patted her arm awkwardly.