Coffee with Mr. Casey

2 - A Night in the Life of Johnny Casey

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Jonathan Casey

I rubbed the film of sweat from my brow as I looked down at the ungraded “What I Want to Do with My Life" papers. They just sat there, telling me to procrastinate, something I always lectured against. I had all weekend to do it, but I just wanted to get it done so I could have Saturday and Sunday all to myself. I’d managed to grade a few, none that were even remotely impressive. I still had to take into consideration that these kids came straight from junior high. They don’t even know how to cite sources yet. College was much different from high school. I never thought in a million years I'd end up back at the same old place I promised I'd never come back to. 

I took another look at my unorganized desk. It was the complete opposite of the one in my classroom. I shoved the papers aside to find the yellow sticky note on my desk that I had yet to throw away. It was Alana’s number in Alana’s handwriting. Why I hadn’t thrown it away? I don’t know. It was like it had been screaming at me these past two weeks. I was surprised that she discreetly slipped the note into my pocket when I saw her at the coffee shop. And she was with her husband, no less. I shook his hand…we exchanged names…

I hadn’t expected to see Alana ever again after she left me while I was still in college. There wasn’t a note or any means as to why she left. I just remember showing up to my efficiency apartment, much like my current one, and she was gone with all of her belongings. She literally crushed my world. I was going to school just so I could eventually take care of her. She was the first and only woman I’d ever loved and she repaid me by giving no explanation. It angered me to no end that she was willing to slip away when her husband wasn’t paying attention. It made me wonder if she was doing exactly that when she and I were together. From the way it ended between us, I was leaning towards yes.

I peeled off the sticky note from my desk calendar and looked at it once more. If I looked at it again, I was going to burn it. I lit a cigarette just in case.

Hovering the small yellow piece of paper over the garbage can, I hesitated. Maybe she gave me her number so I can finally know the truth. But it’s not like I really care much about the truth anymore. That was a few years ago when I was such a naïve kid, who liked to party and play on his guitar all day. I’d learned enough since then to know that love rarely ever happens with both people. Usually, it’s just one of the two. Scratch that. I haven’t even had a girlfriend since then. My advice is totally useless.

The glue from yellow paper stuck to my index finger. It nearly hung by a thread, but a strong thread at that. I’d decided that if it fell off within the next minute, I would forget Alana forever like i'd always planned. And if it sticks—well…

I actually sat there staring at my watch as the time ticked by. Was I really going to let this sticky note make my decision? I mean, what if it does stick? I’d realized then, that I’d feel a lot better if it just fell off. I started to flap my hand a bit to maybe help it come undone but it wouldn’t budge. What the hell kind of glue did they use for these things?

I stripped it off with my other hand, bringing it to my nose. I curiously took a deep inhale, the paper smelling exactly the way she used to. It was a scent of vanilla with a hint of tangerine. I thought it was weird too, until I actually got a whiff of it. I hadn’t realized that I missed her scent until that moment.