You know that extreme anger that comes with waking up at a ridiculous time of day only to find out you ran out of instant coffee without realizing it? And when you get to your regular coffee shop you go to every day only to realize that it has yet to open up because you typically aren't awake at such an ungodly hour? How the hell isn't a coffee shop open at five in the morning anyway?
I don't pride myself in having become one of those typical coffee dependent types. Add that to my list of flaws, I suppose. Could be worse. I could have an early morning crack addiction, yeah? Pretty sure all the crack houses aren't open this early either.
I need specific things in the morning to be able to function properly throughout the day. Coffee, my red bike and whatever notebook I happen to be using that week. Typically it only takes me a few days to scribble through all the pages in an average sized notebook. Filling each and every line with various thoughts, ideas, observations, stories, doodles – I just don't feel like I can function properly in the morning without successfully filling up a few pages of a notebook, front and back. I don't like to waste space.
Locking my bike on the wrack in front of a little coffee shop I finally found, I quickly rush inside, so thankful that I finally found one open at this time of morning. Unfortunately I found one with the name Perkin' Around. They think that's witty, don't they? It was extremely small inside, well kept, very warm and instantly comfortable. I guess this is the kind of place the locals really take pride in. I haven't been living in this town for more than a few months but I instantly felt a connection with this place that went beyond small town feelings.
There were only a few tables and chairs total scattered around the space in front of the counter where only one local sat, an old man with a large cup of black coffee, scowling out the window he was sitting beside. Yeah, I could get used to this place.
Rushing to the counter, I came face to face with a bright, far too bubbly for this time of morning, teenager greeting me through her brace filled smile, freckles poking out through her pale skin. "Good morning! My name is Ashley and I'm just Perkin' Around, how are you?"
Maybe I wouldn't like this place after all. I mean, she seemed like a nice kid, probably no older than fifteen, but god damn she was far too bubbly for my shitty morning. Realizing I was kind of just staring at this excited blonde kid trying to formulate words at such an awful time of morning, I cleared my throat and attempted to give her a little smile, though it immediately fell from my face. "Uh, hey. I'm okay. Can I get a white mocha with an extra shot in whatever is your largest size?"
The tiny blonde immediately fist pumped after I told her my order, as if I just said something worth celebrating and quickly punched some numbers into the cash register. I raised an eyebrow at her as she shook her hips to a song I could only assume she was playing in her head and waited rather impatiently for my total. I handed over the money and got more change back than I originally do when I go to my regular coffee shop. Maybe I'll have to make the switch. I guess I could handle this kid bursting with energy and the angry old man in the corner on a daily basis.
The girl behind the counter, Ashley, quickly grabbed a big cup and a sharpie, turning to me with that toothy smile that hasn't once left her face throughout our entire transaction. "What's your name?"
"Santana..." I muttered, my body remembering once again that it needed this liquid inside it to function properly. Why would she even ask my name? It's only me and that old fucker in here, there's no way our orders could possibly be mixed up, let alone our faces.
The girl's constant smile fell the moment my name escaped my lips, her eyes growing comically wide as they searched my face. I shifted uncomfortably, not understanding the sudden change in her mood. I felt awkward under her sudden studying of my facial features, so awkward that I had to say something to make it stop. "What?" It came out a little sharper than I had originally intended, but damn it I just needed some coffee, not someone to analyze every wrinkle of my face.
"That's so pretty." The girl did not seem phased by my attitude at all. She just stared in awe at me, as if it wasn't just my name she thought was pretty. There was nothing sexual about her leering, it was almost as if she was just now truly understanding that I was a person, with a name, standing in front of her demanding coffee.
"Uhm... thank you..." I finally mumbled out after trying my hand at trying to figure out what the girl was thinking, or even seeing for that matter. It was far too early for me to put on any kind of make up and my hair was a little disheveled from the bike ride over. I know she was still talking about my name but the way her eyes were darting over my facial features had me questioning if perhaps she wondered why someone with a pretty name would have such an unpretty way of presenting herself.
Finally the girl broke her gaze, seeming far less chipper than she was only seconds before and went to make my order. This left me frowning a bit, wondering what on earth just happened. I took this opportunity to immediately grab my cup when she finished it, mumbling a quick "thank you" before hurrying over to a small table in the corner of the room, opposite that old guy who glanced at me with a sour look on his face.
Waiting for my steaming beverage to cool, I immediately opened the notebook I had been clutching in one hand the whole time, turning to the next blank page I could find. Immediately digging my pen out of my hoodie pocket, I began to scribble words as they quickly came to my mind and several minutes later I had an entire page complete. With a heavy sigh, as if it was a huge relief to get these words out of my mind and into my notebook, I set my pen down and reached for my drink.
While indulging myself in the drink I had been craving all morning, I glanced around the little coffee shop. It was still only that old guy who had a permanent look of discontent adorning his face and the bubbly Ashley girl behind the counter, though she no longer had that pep in her step ever since I told her my name. The hell was that all about anyway? I wasn't intending to stare at the teenager but evidently I had been looking her direction long enough for her to feel my eyes on her. She looked up at me and immediately made eye contact, quickly averting her gaze with a faint blush I never would have noticed if her skin wasn't so pale. How awkward.
Chugging down more than half of my beverage, I quickly went back to my writing, losing myself in the words for a good ten minutes before a sound caught my attention. The little bell that dings when a person enters the shop caused my pen to slip a little on the word I was writing. A curse was muttered under my breath while my curious eyes found the reason for the noise go bouncing up to the counter. The woman was slightly taller than the counter girl Ashley and by their matching blonde hair and the way she was embracing the smaller girl, I guessed they were related, perhaps sisters. Before I knew what was happening, my discarded pen was already back between my fingers, anxiously scribbling down a description of the new woman in the coffee shop, who appeared to be about my age. It was as if my brain was frantically telling me to make sure I remembered the beauty before my eyes would have to suffer looking at something that wasn't her.
They were having an excited conversation I couldn't help but hear. After all, this place was very small. I'd been listening to Ashley hum a tune quietly out loud the entire time I'd been in the place and could hear every grumble the old man released while he read his paper. Sound could really carry in this little room.
"Brittany! What are you doing here so early?" Ashley greeted the tall blonde, evidently named Brittany, her excited voice trailing through the air into my ears. Brittany. I quickly jotted that down in my notebook before I could even realize I was doing so. That wasn't unusual for me, though. I'd already written about old fucker and Ashley on the previous page when I first sat down. I just couldn't help it, I had to write these things down. It was like life notes or something. I was well aware that most people didn't need to obsessively write down the things they saw throughout daily life but I was constantly searching for inspiration and a way to remember things, remember everything. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the page of paper below my fingers, but I couldn't help when my gaze drifted up to the pair every few seconds. It was almost as if my hand had a mind of its own when it scribbled something down in my notebook without me even looking down as my eyes analyzed the new blonde's features. I blinked a few times, trying to remember what my hand just wrote without my eye's consent. With a quick glance down at the page I read Beautiful Brittany. I was glad no one could see what I was writing or my blush through my olive skin, because I was pretty damn embarrassed of that scribble. It was true, of course, but I didn't even realize I had been thinking it, let alone wrote it down.
Tossing my pen down on the page, I quickly used my left hand to distract it from writing by downing more of my beverage, watching the scene play out in front of me over the rim of my cup. "Baby sis, you know I can't sleep when I have an audition! I need some fuel for today, I'm going to need it." I heard Brittany say to Ashley with a pleasantly big smile, though even I could tell it was filled with nerves. They were both behind the counter facing each other now, giving me the perfect angle to watch the scene play out. I couldn't stop listening to their conversation as much as I wanted to. It was so quiet in here, after all, I kind of didn't have a choice in the matter. I didn't have headphones with me and honestly wouldn't have even put them on if I did.
"Shit, that's right! Sor-" Ashley was cut off by Brittany's disapproving look and voice. "Ash..." Obviously she didn't want her to use that kind of language. I've never understood that sisterly bond, probably because I don't have a sister. Or any siblings for that matter. Growing up surrounded by friends who were constantly annoyed by their siblings one would think would make a person happy they don't have to deal with that. I suppose I'm one of the exceptions to that assumption. I always wanted a sibling, younger to be preferred, but I'm fairly certain it's a little late to keep that wish alive. Life without siblings got pretty boring and left a void that could never ever be filled by anything else. It's just something I will never experience in life. I just have to keep hope alive that I'll find something else to fit there someday.
My staring became hard to manage and I was watching the whole scene play out in front of me when Ashley's eyes darted over to the old man who was looking her way with that permanent glare still glued to his features, clearly bothered by her word choice far more than Brittany seemed to be. Brittany's eyes followed the direction of Ashley's until they both landed on me, my eyes immediately widening as if I were a two year old with my hand caught in the cookie jar. Sure, I wanted to devour Brittany's cookie features- wait, what? My awkward thoughts and obvious staring made my face heat up immediately and my head duck back down to my notebook before I could engage in any actual eye contact with either sister. Don't look up, don't look up, don't look up. Pretend to be writing, reading, do something. My hand immediately started scribbling again as if I didn't do anything odd or stare like a creeper. I could hear one of them giggle and I so desperately wanted to look up, to see the source of the laughter, but I already knew. For the little I'd heard of their conversation my mind already had a clear understanding of their differences in tone. The giggle was undeniably the smaller girl's and I just knew she could tell by my expression where my mind had gone. Crap.
My gaze may have been averted to ward off any more embarrassing situations my eyes could land me in but I could still feel both sets of eyes boring into my face. It took everything in me to ignore it and once I heard a voice speak up, I wished I had brought my headphones so I could have tuned out of this conversation. "Who's that?" I heard Brittany say quietly to Ashley with what sounded like peaked interest. Interest? I mean, I was definitely the most interesting customer in here right now. And the hottest. I'm one hundred percent convinced that if it came down to a sexy off with me versus sweater vest wearing old fucker, I'd probably win. I mean, that sweater vest may have worked for Edith Bunker but I highly doubt that would get any pretty blonde going. Not that that was the reason for her interest... but hey, a girl could dream. What am I even thinking? This is a tiny ass coffee shop in a middle of nowhere town where the only customers who come in probably come in every single day, see: old fucker. I would be confused if a shifty Latina was suddenly hanging out in the same room as an angry old fucker at five in the morning too.
"That's Santana!" I didn't have to see it to know what expression Ashley was wearing. I had only experienced a few minutes of the girl's presence but that was enough to immediately realize that she was always that peppy. Plus, evidently she thought my name was pretty if that awkward moment when I entered the coffee shop was any sign. Though she sounded quite excited when she told her sister my name, she made sure to say it as quietly as she could and still hold the same amount of enthusiasm. I could tell she didn't want me to hear her say it but I did. Of course I did, even old fucker did if the look he was currently sending my way was any indication. I was getting the vibe, from the gruff disinterested noise that released from the back of his throat, that he did not appreciate the fact that my name wasn't boring like Sara or something racist like Carlos. Well, I doubted he thought my name was Carlos because even though he was old, he did not seem blind. I noticed his tired eyes scan over my chest upon entering the place.
Don't look up, don't look up, don't look up. Apparently as much as I repeated this in my head, my body wouldn't listen. When my eyes dared to look up at the two of them behind the counter I was immediately thrown into a pool of blue, locking eyes with the person who I already had a feeling I would encounter again. There was something about her that I couldn't quite figure out, something that had nothing to do with never even having said a word to her before, something I couldn't shake, something that forced me to keep eye contact that I really shouldn't want to keep. Eye contact with strangers is typically an awkward affair but something about this made an odd calm wash over me I didn't have prior to this. The rough state of my morning had left me in a bitchy mood for the little time I was here, but here I was, making eye contact with a stranger that proved I had heard every word the two had said though I had been attempting to feign innocence to this whole conversation beforehand.
There was a small, almost unnoticeable smile playing on thin, pink lips that my eyes involuntarily darted down to, only temporarily breaking eye contact with blue then immediately losing themselves in the ocean once again. I swallowed, realizing I was kind of staring and had yet to say a word. But then again, what was I supposed to say? I'm pretty sure we weren't even supposed to be making eye contact right now or even acknowledging one another's presence, yet here we were seemingly stuck in a never ending eye lock. As much as I should have been happy to have the moment immediately come to a halt upon hearing a loud clearing of a throat, I was more annoyed than anything, recognizing the deep sound as having to be the only male voice in the room. Old fucker had ventured up to the counter the two blondes were standing behind, looking more bothered than ever, waving his empty coffee cup in the air. Ashley immediately got the hint and seemed to reluctantly break her stare away from what she was looking at, which I realized was the weird moment I had just had with who I assumed was her sister. If one could even call it such a thing. My eyes were now focused on the old man, thinking if I avoided looking at her then maybe I could get myself to stop being such a creepy staring person. Ashley seemed to immediately whip him up a refill to which he didn't even say a thank you for. He grumbled his way back to his small table, muttering "lesbians" as if we couldn't all hear him clear as day.
My eyes widened a little at his lovely assumption but I was mostly just taken aback by an old man who didn't seem to give a shit about anything picking up on the little moment I shared with the blonde. Thankfully, once again, my skin tone covered up the fact that I was blushing profusely. Honestly, this never happens. Santana Lopez does not blush, yet here I go, twice in one day and it wasn't even noon yet. That thought alone reminded me why I was here, quickly focusing my gaze on the coffee cup in front of me, taking big gulps as if my functioning depended it on – which at this point, I really felt like it did. My hand immediately found its way back to my pen and neglected notebook. I didn't want to see the reactions of the two girls, I just wanted to begin feeling calm again. Settling my gaze on the open page, I heard Ashley say something about school and showing Brittany something in the back. The hurried footsteps led me to believe they went into the back and I knew I was alone with old fucker now. I chanced a quick glance over at him and wasn't surprised to see he looked just as grumpy as ever. With a deep sigh, I began to scribble down the words that, unbeknownst to me, would change the entire course of my life.
It had been four years since I last wrote something I felt worthy of being kept. Pages and pages of notebooks still rest at the bottom of my dusty bedroom closet, pages crinkled and long since forgotten. Writing used to be a way of coping for me, something I could always turn to when I had nothing else, a way of breathing, something I thought I would never lose. All my life, for as far back as I can remember, I constantly wrote things down. Whether it be for homework throughout grade school or on a simple post it to remember something, writing seemed to haunt me. Grocery lists were often cluttered with various lines of simple strung together words I couldn't get out of my mind. Beneath the reminder to get a new carton of milk and more shampoo there would be quick chicken scratches of sudden inspiration that wouldn't leave me alone. I'm pretty sure I didn't intend to go to the grocery store for:
- milk
- eggs
- the soft wind unkempt, a breeze beneath my wake
- shampoo, toothbrush
- her knuckles ignite my skin and my cry was the furthest thing from a symphony one woman can express
- loaf of bread
But these things constantly threatened my thoughts so often that I truly believed if I didn't write them down then I would regret it for the rest of my life. And I try not to have regrets.