Author's Note: I wrote this for a school assignment. I know, right? Best teacher ever! Anyway, I was rushing to get it done on-time and I only wrote it for school so I am quite positive that it is absolutely terrible. But tell me what you think anyway!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Giver in any way because if I did, the ending would be much different. Like, good.
Receiver of Coffee
As Jonas' alarm blared through his ears and into his sleep-induced, fuzzy mental state, Jonas thought the same thing he thought every morning: nothing. Slowly and reluctantly, Jonas got out of bed, took a shower, threw on some clothes, hastily brushed his teeth and combed his hair, and briskly walked out the door of his tiny and cramped apartment before he changed his mind. Recently, it had been very difficult for Jonas to leave his apartment.
Since moving to New York City to pursue a career as a musician twelve weeks ago, Jonas has slowly lost his creative drive. He was running out of money and would soon have to move back home to his family's farm in Kansas City. Jonas wanted to stay in New York City because he didn't feel like part of his family. He had always felt like an outsider; like he saw the world differently.
This morning, Jonas briskly walked through the streets of New York City towards an opportunity. Jonas didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he figured that anything was better than spending another day in bed thinking about how much longer he had before his savings ran out.
After crossing many streets, turning many corners, and passing many beautiful buildings, Jonas was thoroughly exhausted. Jonas stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at his surroundings. Across the street on his right, Jonas spotted a quaint coffee shop. In bold, colorful letters he read the words "The Receive Coffee Shop." Starving and with little options, Jonas shrugged at himself before jaywalking across the busy street. Jonas let the sound of car horns directed at him to fade away as he entered the small shop. As Jonas looked around, he saw more life and color in that one shop than he had seen anywhere else in his twelve weeks in New York City.
Every wall was painted different shades of red. These red walls hung beautiful scenes of painted art. One work captured a child sledding down a snowy hill. Another picture depicted a happy family opening presents and enjoying each other's company on Christmas morning. But there was one painting that stood out from all of the others. It portrayed a small child crying into his knees as he sat alone in a grey, empty room with no one there to comfort him. As Jonas stood in the middle of the shop, taking in all of the beauty around him, a strong, commanding male voice interrupted his thoughts: "Admiring the art?"
Jumping slightly, Jonas turned his attention to where the voice had come from. Behind the counter, stood an elderly male barista and as far as Jonas could tell, he seemed to be the only one besides himself in the shop.
Still slightly rattled, Jonas started to explain himself: "I-I'm here because-"
"I know why you're here," the barista proclaimed loudly.
"You- you do?" Jonas asked.
"Well, this is a coffee shop, Receiver. You want a cup of coffee, of course."
"Right," Jonas replied, as he cautiously approached the counter.
"What can I get you?" the barista asked.
"Um, how about an apple scone and…uh…a hot chocolate…with cinnamon?"
"Coming right up, Receiver!" the barista replied with a grin.
"Why do you do that?" Jonas asked suddenly, immediately regretting such a rude question to someone that was about to prepare his food and drink.
"Do what?" asked the barista.
'Well, too late to back out now,' Jonas thought. "Why do you keep calling me a receiver?"
The barista smiled kindly, yet with a hint of sadness in his eyes.
"Because that's what you are. You have come to receive my services."
"Oh," said Jonas, suddenly intrigued by this strange, old man. "Is that where the name of your shop comes from?"
"Indeed," replied the barista. "Let me get started on your hot chocolate. I'll be right back."
"Here you are, Receiver," said the barista as he handed Jonas his order.
"Thank you," replied Jonas as he turned to head to one of the tables in the shop. But suddenly, Jonas stopped and turned back around. "By the way, my…my name is Jonas."
Looking surprised but pleased, the barista extended his hand and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jonas."
"You too…" Jonas prompted him. There was an awkward silence as the two stood there shaking hands, Jonas waiting for the barista to reveal his name, while the barista remained silent and continued shaking Jonas' hand.
"Um, what should I call you?" Jonas finally asked.
After giving it some thought, the barista answered, "Well, if you're the Receiver, I guess you could call me the Giver."
After that first meeting, Jonas returned to the coffee shop to see the Giver every single day. Around noon, Jonas would arrive at the shop, the Giver would prepare his order (it was always the same), make something for himself (it was always different), and the two would sit at a table (the shop was always empty at this time) and chat about the complexities of life. The Giver became a sort of father for Jonas, since Jonas' own father had been so emotionally absent. Jonas and the Giver discussed a variety of subjects from their personal histories, to their dreams and aspirations, to the paintings on the wall, and to the death of art in modern society. The Giver helped Jonas to see the world. To really see it for what it was: all of that beauty, all of that pain, but most importantly, all of that love. Jonas came to realize that the night is dark and full of terrors but the joy and happiness of being alive is absolutely worth the suffering.
This ritual went on for a week or so, but Jonas knew that it could not last forever. He was quickly running out of cash even with the Giver offering him a one-hundred percent discount.
One day, the Giver told Jonas to come to the shop the next day at precisely 7:00 A.M., bright and early. When Jonas asked why, the Giver replied, "Well I need time to train you before we open. If you want to stay in New York City, you are going to need a side job to support your musical career."
Jonas was speechless. No one had ever believed in him as much as the Giver did. No one had ever loved him as much as the Giver did, not even his own family. Jonas was ecstatic at the offer but he was not surprised. The Giver had already given him everything. What's a job compared to all the wisdom of the world that the Giver had imparted to him already? Jonas only hoped that one day he would be able to return the favor.