Pat

On my morning break I scurry out of the library and get me a cup of coffee (short) and a plain (butter) croissant at Starbucks, eat and sip and scan whatever paper happens to be lying around. This morning the tall young fellow who has been working there a little while now looked right at me and said, "Good morning, Pat! What can we get for you today?"

"Did you call me 'Pat'?" I asked.

Flustered he said, "What's your name? What's your name?"

When I told him, he rolled it on his tongue, puzzled. "You should meet Pat," he said, turning to pour the coffee.

"We probably have a lot in common," I said.

As he handed me the cup he said, "How does it feel to have had a different name for the last six months?"

I shrugged. "This is only the second time I've heard you use a name with me." Usually he emphasizes SIR, as in "Can I get a drink started for you, SIR!"

Was it yesterday I first heard "Pat"? There were people in line and I wasn't really sure what he'd said so I just took my drink and smiled. But when he said it so clearly today ... "What's your name?" I asked.

He said, "Chris."

"Thanks, Chris," I said. (I've seen him holding hands with his Asian boyfriend. I like to see that sort of thing.)