The Linguists

She lifted her eyes above her book to scan the room...…there
didn't seem to be anything in particular that had changed. It was the same
small cafe it had always been for the past month. The arrangement of the
chairs hadn't even varied really, which she found amazing considering that
their very existence was one of motion. People were always moving chairs.
She shook her head as if to clear the odd philosophical musings out of her
mind,tossing wavy brown strands over her shoulder. Lowering her eyes to the
pages of the novel she had cradled in her hands, she was searching for the
next unread line when she heard a voice say "Turkey and provolone on rye,
no tomatoes or anything...…just turkey, cheese, and bread." Her blue eye
widened. She glanced down at the plate in front of her, upon which sat a
sandwich, half-eaten. It was the exact same sandwich the voice had
ordered.The food counter was around the corner from where she sat; the
voice's owner was not visible. She closed her eyes for a moment, and
listened for it again. She heard it amongst the murmur of the cafe, the
voices, the dishes, the general rustling that accompanies collections of
people. She listened for a few moments to his friendly banter as he waited
for his lunch, then went back to her book.
About two minutes later he sat down a few tables away from her
along the same wall. He put his plate down, sat down, picked up a book,
and absently reached for his sandwich. She squinted slightly. He was
reading a novel that she had read a month earlier, about a week after she
had gotten to Australia. It was about a journey of self-discovery and
fulfillment of lifelong dreams; …very poignant, considering she wa 
essentially doing the exact same thing at that moment. She was on a
journey, fulfilling the dreams she had as a child to go to Australia and
be a marine biologist, and she was discovering herself and perhaps...
other people as well. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small
notebook. She flipped through it, took out a pen, and wrote something on
the pad. She then ripped it out, folded it in half, and handed it to a
passing busboy, gesturing towards the young man's table.
The messenger handed the note to him, and pointed to her table.
 She made eye contact and smiled. He unfolded the paper, and there,
scrawled across the note, were the words "I see we have the same taste in
sandwiches. I don't like tomatoes either. By the way, …good book.Shea"
The "S" in Shea had been transformed into a smiley face, and there was a
little drawing ofa whale afterwards. He looked down at his sandwich,
then over at her plate.
She pointed at the somewhat pitiful remains of her lunch and nodded with
enthusiasm. Then she pointed to a chair at his table and raised an
eyebrow. He jerked his head in approval and she picked up her belongings,
walked over, and sat down. "Excuse me for being so forward. …I suppose I
must seem a little odd. It's just that when I find someone who I think
might be interesting to talk to I always make the primary effort to
communicate with them."
"No …no, it's fine. I men …we already have two things in common, right
Oh, …my name isTim by the way."
"Well Tim, …I've been looking for someone to discuss that book with. No
one around me seems to care about writing; they don't value good
literature and deft use of the English language." 
He looked at her for a moment, and his mouth opened slightly in a sort of
awe. "I agree with you completely," he said. "Someone who uses language
not only correctly but in an artistic manner has a power and an appeal
that is unparalleled by any other attribute a person could possess." They
both looked at each other, their eyes meeting. Each could see the complete
comprehension of the other's thoughts and feelings… the synchronicity of
their mental process. 
Shea glanced at her watch quickly. "Do you have somewhere to be?"
he asked, looking somewhat disappointed.
"Um, well, …I have t...…" She paused, deep in thought. "I do have
somewhere that I am supposed to be. …I have a final." She looked slightly
pained as she said this, and bit her lip.
"Oh. Well …are you going to be around tomorrow?"
"I am. I am around quite a bit. Actually, …this is my last final!"
"Do you want to meet me for lunch tomorrow?"
"I'd love to. Turkey and provolone on rye?"
" 12:00. No tomatoes." With that, they both shook hands and parted
company. Little did each know that they would possess the other's thoughts
until they met again. As Shea walked away, Tim found himself fingering
the note in his pocket.
The sun was shining brightly through the window and making the plants on
the window sill glow, casting a verdant light on her table. It was
11:50; …she was always early. She fiddled with the various items on the
table and was making the salt and pepper shakers dance when Tim came in
at 11:58.
"Hello, Shea. Having fun?"
"Yeah, just …playing."Tim nodded and smiled, and Shea blushed. He sat
down across from her, and picking up the salt shaker, danced it around a
bit.
"So, yesterday you had a final. What uni do you attend?"
"UNSW"
"Ahh. I go to ANU. I just got back from Canberra. I am quite happy to be
back in Sydney. I thought I'd like Canberra better, but it is just so
homogeneous and planned."
"I've never been there, but I have heard that. It sounds like Washington
DC in a way."
"What part of the US are you from?"
"Massachusetts. I'm from …a small town about 45 minutes from Boston, if
you know where that is." She looked questioningly at him.
"I do. I have relatives there. It was good of you not to assume that I
knew what you were talking about though."
" I tend not to be very America-centric. So …are we going to have our
sandwiches?"
Tim laughed, and said, "I practically forgot. I was so engrossed in the
conversation." Shea smirked. 
"What an interesting and deep conversation it was, too," she said
sarcastically.
 Both stood and walked over to the counter. When it was their turn, Tim
said, "2 turkey and provolone sandwiches on rye." He looked at Shea and
smiled. "No tomatoes." Shea grinned. "What do you want to drink?"
"Iced tea."
"Two iced teas." The cashier nodded and rang up the order. Shea and Tim
reached into their pockets and pulled out their wallets. Tim looked over
and said, "Oh, no. Please …let me get this."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Look at it as my thank you to you for sending me this note." He
waved the note, which had been tucked into his wallet. Shea smiled at him
and put her hand on his shoulder.
"You kept it? I'm flattered." 
Tim smiled, slightly embarrassed, and paid the cashier. Shea just kept
looking at him and smirking. She took her sandwich and tea and walked back
to the table, smirking all the way.
Tim sat down and sipped his tea. "So, what do you study?"
"Marine biology."
"I suppose that explains why you came to Australia, …but why aren't
you further up north?"
"Oh, …well, I liked the way UNSW sounded better. In all my childhood
fantasies I was always in Sydney. I put a lot of stock in fulfilling the
dreams I have, much …like Hayden, in that book you're reading."
"My, what a segue!" He grinned. "Just like Hayden. He always
wanted to be a renowned writer, and he kept his goals in mind throughout
his entire life."
"That was an extraordinary novel …although the end disappointed me.
I can't believe that he took off suddenly that one morning, leaving Moira
behind. I mean maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic, but that was
unsettling. That's my problem when I read things …I want them to end
nicely." She took a bite of her sandwich and nodded emphatically. 
"Well …I think it sort of did end nicely. He went on to write a wonderful
novel about Moira, which was published and left him feeling very
fulfilled. Remember at the end when Moira's granddaughter is reading
the novel? Things worked out for both of them." He grinned, a satisfied
look on his face.
	"I know…"Shea smiled. "I still wanted them to end up together
though! On a totally different topic, …I told you my majr, …so what's
yours?"
"Ahh. Asian Studies and Linguistics." Shea smirked and laughed low, under
her breath. "Are you laughing at me?" Tim asked, looking confused.
"Oh no! No! I was just, …you see, I was just thinking about the etymology
of the word, and my mind just started to wander.…"
"Yes, lingua. …tongue." He smiled. 
Shea sipped her tea, licked her lips, raised her eyebrows, and said,
"So, …that would make you a linguist?" She overpronounced linguist,
touchingher tongue to her upper lip to form the "l".
"Uh…."
"What, Tim? Cat got your tongue?" She laughed loudly and put her
hand on his forearm. "Oh, …that was a good pun."
"Good pun? Puns are supposed to be bad!" Both of them laughed, and then
they looked at her hand still on his arm. She looked up and smiled.
"Tim, do you have anything to do right now?"
"Not at all. I'm completely free. What do you have in mind?"
"Do you want to go to the beach?"
"Now? I'm not really wearing the right clothes. Which beach?"
"Not one of the crowded ones. …I know this place that isn't really a
"beach" beach, it's off the bay. …I go there to wander around and look for
interesting things. I suppose that would be boring though."
"Oh, no it wouldn't. I think you're very interesting." He brushed her hand
with his fingertips.
Shea smiled and nodded, cocking her head slightly. "You are such a
sweetheart." She stood up and reached out for his hand. He entwined his
fingers with hers and they walked out of the cafe into the warm summer
sun.