Six Feet from the Ledge/Chapter 4:
Greta’s is my favorite little coffee shop just off the main street in downtown. It’s far enough down a side street to be away from the hustle and bustle of daily downtown business, but still close enough to see a bit of the wonderful skyline of Austin. They know me there pretty well. I go in about twice a week and order the same thing, a non-fat latte in a big round mug that I load up with sugar. Normally I either peruse the local indie newspaper for anything going on around town, or I sit and sketch some shapes of the people I see hanging around in there. So I found my usual table in the corner, near the window and sat my case down against the window. I decided to take it in with me since I had to park a little further away than usual that day and with this being downtown, you never know. I take a small sip from my sugary caffeinated delight, smiling a little at the flavor but mostly at the possibility of being in a group show at the Shine Gallery soon. I sat my cup down and decided to have a look around the room to see who was here today. Most of the same people come in here though, and it’s never that crowded at this time of the morning. I saw John, plugging away on his laptop at his usual table across the room. I hear he owns a consultancy firm but does all of his work mainly from that laptop at that table. The only reason I know his name is he sometimes has meetings with people here and I hear him introduce himself. It’s amusing too because the folks are usually dressed in suits, and John always wears jeans and graphic tee shirts. I guess he takes a more relaxed approach to business. That is my kind of guy.
I decided to open up the paper I grabbed on my way in. I only have a short amount of time today because I need to get home by 11 so I can change and be at work by noon. From the corner of my eye, I saw someone sit down across from John. Out of my usual curiosity of those that make their way into the coffee shop, I looked over at this someone directly and nearly choked on my coffee. It was Heath Ledger, or again, someone that looked a hell of a lot like him. He wasn’t talking to John, and John wasn’t talking to him. In fact I never saw John stand up and greet him the way he normally did with those who came to sit at his table. This guy just sat down there, like the table was empty. He had a coffee in one hand and the other was made into a loose fist, pressed against his mouth. As he turned to his left and looked over at me, his thumb covered his lips and underneath they broke into a small smile. I quickly looked down; breaking the eye contact and thought I must be losing my mind. I couldn’t even drink my coffee right now. I was literally freaking out. I need to get the hell out of here. I allowed myself another peek over at him and he was still looking at me. No, staring at me…again. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. I closed up the paper and reached for my portfolio case. I just need to get home and get ready for work, everything will be fine. And as I was just about to get up out of my seat, I saw that same guy making his way over to my table. I started to feel nauseous.
“This isn’t happening,” I mumbled, under my breath.
“Hello. I’m sorry to bother you but I noticed your case sitting there… are you an artist?” His words were a deep echo in my ears. I closed my eyes tightly for a few seconds and opened them again. Yep, he was still standing there.
“Excuse me-” he began to say, maybe thinking I hadn’t heard him.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I interrupted, once I remembered how to make my mouth move. “I am. Hi…my name is Georgia.” I offered my hand out, not sure why I didn’t run the other way. Maybe I was thinking he might be a fellow painter. He was mesmerizing though. Anyway, I’m sure he is going to say his name is Michael or David or something like that because he cannot be the same person from those movies. That was not possible.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I interrupted, once I remembered how to make my mouth move. “I am. Hi…my name is Georgia.” I offered my hand out, not sure why I didn’t run the other way. Maybe I was thinking he might be a fellow painter. He was mesmerizing though. Anyway, I’m sure he is going to say his name is Michael or David or something like that because he cannot be the same person from those movies. That was not possible.
“It’s nice to meet you, Georgia. I’m Heath.” It’s official, I am losing my mind. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just saw it sitting there and was curious.” This can’t be real. I must be dreaming, I thought again. I was taken by him though. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He has these slight yet remarkable curves that form at the sides of his mouth when he smiles. And his eyes…they seem to glow with a great kindness to them, it was all drawing me in. I am silently staring. I am losing my mind.
“May I?” he asked, indicating to sit down with me.
“Sure.” How could I say no to his pleasantly deep voice bounding with that accent?
“I was going to offer to buy you another coffee but you seem to be doing just fine with that one. Can I get you anything else?” he offered pleasantly.
“No, thank you. I really only have time for this one.” We sat there in silence for a few moments just looking at each other. Then oddly, I felt the urge to slide my portfolio along the floor towards him.
“Would you like to have a look?”
“I don’t mind if I do. That would be great. Would I have seen any of your work anywhere?”
“Not yet. Do you paint, Heath?” There. I said his name out loud.
“I used to. I haven’t in a very long time though.” He unzipped my case and slid the front one out of the case just enough so he could see the majority of it. He stared at it for a minute then looked up at me, without any kind of expression that I could read. The first one was Peter. Heath then placed it back inside and pulled out the next one. That one was my dad’s portrait. Heath’s face filled with a quiet sadness, I’m sure I noticed as he moved onto the next two. When he was looking at the last one of Janine he bit his bottom lip, a similar thing I did repeatedly when I was around her. And since I was watching his face so intensely, I saw his lips mouth the word ‘wow’ afterwards.
“You said ‘not yet’. Do you have a show lined up somewhere?” he asked as he closed my case back up and placed it back against the window, without once taking his eyes off mine.
“I had a meeting today with a gallery downtown. They said they are possibly interested in me for an upcoming group show. They have a lot more artists to meet with this week though, so I will just be waiting for a call now, I guess.” Why am I telling him all of this? I’m rambling and I’m sure he doesn’t care, plus, he isn’t even real. It was as if my mind just decided it was going to go along for the ride.
“I’m sure they will, Georgia. You are very talented,” he said with an assuring smile. “I’m sorry to rush off but I need to go and I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be as well. You said before that you only had time for the one coffee.” He was right, I needed to get home and change for work. Not to mention, pinch myself so I can wake up.
“Oh, yeah, sure. I should get going, too.” We both stood up. He put his hand out and took mine.
“It was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for sharing your paintings with me. I will see you around, I’m sure.” And he was gone before I could say a word. I sat back down at the table. I looked around. No one seemed to be looking at me. Surely they would have noticed if Heath Ledger, who was supposed to be dead for a few years now as Vanessa had reminded me earlier, was sitting at my table with me. Or certainly they would have noticed me sitting here having a conversation with no one.
