Sunday, October 28, 2018

Meet Brent Oberhauser

I walk into one of my favorite coffeehouses, all blonde wood and warm brown walls, with an iron and wood staircase which ascends above to a quiet place above the counter. Under the stairwell are more tables, and at one of the tables sits a tall, bony young man with a shaved head and nerd glasses. I sit down; piercing blue eyes regard me from behind the glasses.

"I was expecting you," he said, cocking his head. "You're the author, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm the author. Are you on break?"

"Yeah, for a few minutes. Want a coffee?" He called out to the counter, "Bettina, Dr. Leach here needs a coffee. My treat."

A moment later, I'm settled across the table from the man. His long fingers cradle a cup of coffee.

"Your name is Brent Oberhauser, right?"

"Got it in one." He leaned back in his chair. "This is what I do when I'm not writing my dissertation. Or teaching American History."

"So," I asked, "You're going to be a professor, right?"

"I didn't have much of a choice. My parents are both professors -- political science and chemistry -- and I think they'd have died of shame if I didn't go for a PhD." He leaned forward again, setting all four feet of the chair on the floor. I heard his foot tap, and I wondered if he ever truly rested. "Me, I'm history. Not that that's helping me with my latest dilemma."

"What dilemma?" I inquired.

"I have to be Santa for the Yule Ball this year. I mean, last several years we had Kris Kringle -- I mean Kriegel. Short guy, ginger, runs a toy shop. He put the outfit on and he became Father Christmas. I'm gonna put it on and it's going to barely hit my knees and I'm going to look like a stork in a skirt or something. I'll scare the kids away ..." He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "Why did Kris have to move away?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, knowing that as the author, it was all my fault that Kris Kriegel and his new wife Marcia had moved to Missouri.

"I'll quit whining," Brent shrugged. "It doesn't look good on me." He unfolded himself from the chair and threw his apron back on. "Stay a while. I have to get back to work."

And so I stayed.

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