Chapter 4: The Colombian -  3:00pm: Christmas Eve copyright Eric Chambers no redistribution, reposting, or altering w/o permission   Bob is laid out on a booth table, eyes closed, basking in the fading sunlight. Tara and Polly sit in a booth on the opposite side looking out over the parking lot, recanting over last night’s events.   Polly (looking down and nervously playing with her tail): I can’t believe he’s still doing that…   Tara (hands folded on top of the table, also looking down): Yea…   Polly (looking up now, still with concern): After AA and court orders…   Tara: Yea…   Polly (reaching out and putting her hand over Tara’s clasped ones): You ok?   Tara (not moving or responding) ….   Polly (gently squeezing Tara’s hand): Tara…?   Tara (getting up from the booth, looking frustrated and sad): Yea…yea…I’m fine, really. Thank you.   Polly (playing with her tail under the table, as Tara left out the door) If you want help….   Tara (exiting): Yea…I know…(and leaves).   Polly stands, still fidgeting with her tail, walks over towards Bob’s booth and sits.   Bob (eyes closed, not moving): Tell her I’m sorry.   Polly (looking up, not realizing he was awake or even paying attention): Huh?   Bob (still not moving, eyes closed): I’m sorry that has to happen to her.   Polly: Yea…I just wish I could do something about it.   Bob (opening his eyes and rolling his head to face her): Helplessness sucks, doesn’t it?   Polly just looks at him for a moment. Before she can come up with a comeback, they hear giggling coming from the parking lot. Tara is standing beside a very muscular orange tabby in shorts and a T-shirt, Thomas Boyland. He’s grinning and she’s giggling in obvious flirtation.   Polly (looking at them through the window): I guess she’s not in that much pain…   Bob (hanging his head over the end of the table, eyes widening) Shit. (falls to the floor)   Polly (looking down): Um…you ok?   Bob (lying on his back, looking up, looking nervous and speaking rapidly): Yea, yea, just…I’ll be back (and scuttles off behind her toward the bathroom)   A flushing comes from the direction of the bathroom, followed by the sound of running water; out walks Alex.   Alex (holding the bathroom door open, a concerned look on his face): Um…Polly, you break something? I…um…thought I heard something fa…   Bob (interrupting Alex in mid-sentence, scrambling off the floor and pushing him back into the bathroom): It’s Thomas.   Alex (regaining his balance, eyes widening): Shit.   The bathroom door opens slowly, Bob’s paw reaches into his coat pocket, gripping his knife.   Polly (looking in): You guys ok?   Bob and Alex both sigh and relax, Bob takes his hand out of his pocket.   Bob (looking over at Polly in frustration): Don’t do that.   Alex (also looking at Polly): Hey...um…shouldn’t you knock before coming in here?   Polly (innocently): Why? I work here. (smiling and winking at them) Besides, nothing I haven’t seen before (giggles).   Bob (unnerved): err…yea…um…is he out there?   Polly (looking behind her and then back to them): Yea, he’s in the corner…(her brow furrows and she growls a bit), with his feet on the table…grrr.   Alex (grinning slightly): You should do something to his food.     Bob (not smiling): Or bring it in here so we can.   Polly looks back over her shoulder and laughs to herself.   Polly (looking back): Sorry boys, Mr. Manners just left. And I was so hoping to watch you two put bodily fluids in someone’s food (smiles slyly).   All three of them walk out of the men’s room and then out of the coffeehouse, sitting on the curb, watching the sunset. Polly was the first one to speak up.   Polly (looking over at Bob): He’s that bad, huh?   Alex (answering instead): Unless you like your ass handed to you by a group of football players.   Polly (turning to Alex, looking sad): Oh…I…I didn’t know   She turns toward Bob. He sits there, staring into the sun, the wind blowing his hair back.   Bob (under his breath): Everyone hates a sad professor...I hate where I wound up...   Polly (putting her paw on Bob’s shoulder): What?   Bob (looking down at the grass, bringing his knees up to his chest): Nothing...