Turned twenty one on a day that we met
Terrible shoes, implausible dress
It's funny how sad the funny things get as you grow older
Now Playing: Brooke Fraser ft. Aqua Lung / Who Are We Fooling?
Her face immediately lit up upon entering the familiar, quaint, and tiny coffeehouse. Maurice's Coffee Shoppe had always been Elsa's safe haven; the smell of sweet aroma filled her nostrils causing the corner of her lips to rise, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth.
Mmmmmhhh…Chocolate mocha!
Elsa was beaming, holding onto the feeling of satisfaction and slight glee before it vanishes as quickly as it came. Her gaze fell on the floor.
Highlight of my day.
During class breaks and days off, she would find herself situated in the familiar obsolete armchair that was snugly rested by the fireplace with her nose buried in a book. Elsa would usually bring two or three books and place them carefully on the table before her, next to her latte, eager to open them and devour each page…eager to escape her ever busy world.
It didn't have to be a novel, it didn't have to be her usual Biology and Anatomy books. She read comic books, poetry, and even history books about Norway, where her ancestors were from. Elsa was like a sponge; absorbing knowledge whenever it trickles down her direction. Not only was she attractive, she was also extremely smart and on top of her senior class in North Mountain University. Reading so many books from such a young age really did pay off. As far as she can remember, that was all she really did growing up.
Read. And sometimes, talk to snowmen.
The young girl would spend hours getting lost in fictional lands and sagas that are animatedly and forever immortalized in the pages of her worn out books. Unaware of the hours passing and the people around her, Elsa immersed herself in worlds that none of the others can see.
She would befriend magical kings and queens from faraway lands, have sword fights with Joan of Arc, and create ice palaces with the Snow Queen, her favorite fictional character whom she had read about a dozen times; yet, never getting exhausted by its story and splendor. Though reserved and soft-spoken, the platinum blonde's mind was filled with daydreams and magical encounters with friends she wished she had.
In a life she wished she had.
Elsa's presence stood stark in contrast to the people around her in the coffee shop. Surrounded by a group of townspeople who dressed rather mundane and looking quite bland, she was dressed in a finely ironed designer white button down that fit her slender body rather snugly. Long and toned legs were encompassed by a pair of sleek black skinny jeans; her feet were resting on black Manolo pumps, and she sported a white Hermes handbag that costs more than the entire wardrobe of everyone in that coffee shop.
She stood by the corner waiting to be seated, a hand over the other's shirt cuff, straightening a wrinkle that did not exist. She wanted to wear her running hoodie and sweats today, but opted against it after remembering her father's words.
Well, she never really wore sweatpants in public. But she had always wanted to try. She's seen people in college go to class wearing pajamas. Why can't I?
You must always look professional and respectable. You can never look sloppy or else people won't take you seriously. You will be the new face of Arendelle Pharmaceuticals. Keep that in mind. Whatever you wear, it will be planned and supervised by your personal stylist. I expect nothing less of you, Elsa.
Thought not materialistic in nature, Elsa's father insisted that she always looked her utmost best. He made sure his daughter was properly dressed at all times and properly cared for physically. She had her own stylist (she does not understand the need for this because she can dress herself) and went for daily pedicures and manicures (as a woman, she found this as a necessity for hygienic reasons), attended dermatology appointments every other month (her dermatologist was her father's friend. Dr. Arendelle made sure she went whenever she was summoned), and can be seen at the gym three to four times a week (this is the only thing in her daily schedule that she can honestly say she likes). She was almost immaculate.
Almost.
Not that she needed any of that because Elsa was a natural beauty; she can dress up in rags (not that she would seeing as how her father might react…) and still sink a thousand ships with those piercing blue eyes. Her prominent cheekbones, full and light pink lips, and that long, platinum blonde hair that she always kept in a sophisticated bun or sometimes, on a lazy day, a single loose braid was everything deserving of worship. Though she possessed the looks that any girl would hope for and any man would feast upon, the platinum blonde was utterly, hopelessly shy and down to earth. She had a hard time receiving compliments and often thought of herself as someone plain and ordinary.
The coffee shop owner, Mr. Jean Maurice, was fond of Elsa's daily presence. Elsa was a pleasant customer who would usually order two to three cups of coffee and sometimes, sandwiches to compensate for the time she would spend in the shop. Unlike most other people who would linger idly and order nothing, Elsa made sure she was not just taking space and fulfilled her duties as a respectable customer.
Mr. Maurice was too nice, letting these people loiter, much to Elsa's annoyance. She did not like the idea of Mr. Maurice losing customers because of inconsiderate people taking up space that could be used by other people who would actually purchase food or coffee.
So she tipped well. Sometimes, a little bit way too much (she barely carried cash and used her Black Card for her purchases, and when she did have paper bills, they would be an assortment of fifty to one hundred dollar bills which she generously used for tipping and giving to homeless people she would randomly see on the streets when she's out doing a morning run or when she encounters one) and she would clean up after herself. She was quiet and interacted with no one.
She would exit the shop just as quietly as she had entered it. Though grateful for the young girl's generosity, Mr. Maurice, a kind, short and plump man with welcoming brown eyes, sensed Elsa's slight discomfort and awkwardness whenever he would try to chat with her. He asked about her day. About school. And one time, he asked about her mom, which caused Elsa to blush and stutter an incoherent reply about her "being away."
Looking back now, Maurice realized how odd it was to see the young girl by herself that day, on Mother's Day, at a coffee shop, by herself.
Elsa would smile timidly and ask him questions in return. Polite questions. But often times, she would compliment him.
"How are you, Mr. Maurice?"
"That coffee was exquisite. Thank you, Mr. Maurice."
Although obviously well mannered, the shop owner thought it best to leave the girl alone, sensing that her sole purpose for visiting his shop on a daily basis was because she needed time to be by herself. Often times, Mr. Maurice would catch Elsa staring into space with her hands cupping her mug. It was like looking at a still painting: the subject, a melancholy muse looking over the sea, waiting for something or someone to arrive.
"Hello, Elsa. How are you today?"
"What can I get you?"
"Good night, Elsa. Thank you for coming. See you soon."
Pleasantries. That was it. Though curious and itching to reach out to the young girl, Mr. Maurice left Elsa alone.
There were not a lot of people who knew about this place. And Elsa preferred it that way. Located outside of town, in the outskirts of what most people of her age think to be a ghost town filled with nothing but antique shops, small boutiques, and old book stores, the twenty-one-year-old escaped her noisy and turbulent world and resided here...for just a few hours at a time to rest and rid herself of classmates, school-related stress, and responsibilities. So many responsibilities. The rundown coffee shop gave Elsa a sense of comfort. She particularly liked it when the sun caressed the window panes, giving the place a warm ambience.
But today, the platinum blonde was far from rested. Today, she did not bring any books. Today, there were more people than usual chattering and making Elsa feel uneasy.
She hated noise. She hated the sound of laughter because it was something she cannot easily produce herself. Today, she was sitting at another table because a group of boisterous teenagers invaded her spot by the fireplace.
When did these people decide to go here? Elsa asked herself bitterly, a finger lazily traced the outline of the rim of her coffee cup in circular motions. An elegant brow perked up, blue eyes scanning the environment.
She was seated adjacent to the main door entrance, her eyes scoping the room and seeing familiar faces from her university. She was so exhausted and a headache was starting to add to her defeat. Sometimes, the smell of chocolates can't make everything feel better. The platinum blonde spent the whole morning working on a thesis paper that was due in a month. Elsa was never the one to leave things the last minute.
The upcoming Magna Cum Laude was never late for any of her classes. Never submitted a project late. Never defied time and its unforgiving hunger to keep moving forward. In fact, she was an hour and a half early for today's event. It was a bad habit to break, her punctuality. She doesn't know if that is something she should be proud of or despise.
Her eyes rested on the back of a girl who was chatting with her group of friends a little bit too enthusiastically and loudly. They had just entered the shop and were waiting for the waiter to clear their table. She knew she's seen this girl somewhere….her crazy and unruly red locks looked too familiar.
Elsa frowned, dropping the question. She was too exhausted for this and to be quite honest, she could not bring herself to care.
As if reading her mind, the girl turned around and immediately recognized Elsa.
"Elsa!" The redhead beamed and walked towards her table.
"Oh…Me...Merida! Hi," the platinum blonde clumsily stood up from her seat to face the girl while accidentally hitting the table with her foot, causing the table to vibrate which almost made her coffee spill.
Elsa is usually poised. Calm. Collected. Well, when she's alone.
Or with her father.
Poised. Especially poised. Calm? Not really. Collected? Yes.
God knows how disappointed he would be if Elsa presented herself as anything less than perfect.
All those years of training from walking, to posture, voice intonation, use of semantics and pragmatics, the four languages she had to learn fluently for "business" and to "communicate well with patients"…Elsa was carved and groomed to be the next heir to his medical empire. She wasn't even a doctor yet. But that's what she will be, nothing more and nothing less.
The famous neurosurgeon, Dr. Walter Arendelle, made sure his only child and only daughter followed after his footsteps and become a renowned surgeon like him, his father, and his father's father.
After all, she will be the one managing their multi-million dollar hospital facilities in Europe and all across the United States. The Arendelles were well known for their wealth and contribution in health science. Their hired doctors and nurses saved the lives of many and have changed the course of medical history with their accomplishments in the field. And Elsa was next in line to handle her family's legacy. The young heir took on her birthright without a say and without complaint.
There is no room for mistakes. Although Elsa's father was not with her and in one of his many meetings, she could not help but look behind her shoulder. She can feel his cold and stern eyes drilling in the back of her skull, ready to scold her for being ungraceful in front of her peer.
Heaven knows she tried and kept trying, but human interaction was not in Elsa's resume of expertise.
I see. No wonder she looks familiar. She sits two rows away from me in Psych class. We worked on a group project together last semester. How can I easily forget?
She silently chastised herself. Has she been so shut in that she has forgotten that other people existed outside of her books?
"What are ye doing here? Are ye with someone?" The young redhead with her thick and heavy Scottish accent asked the platinum blonde while stirring her iced coffee with a straw.
Well, this is a coffee shop and you can obviously see my coffee. So maybe I'm here for…coffee? No, I'm not with someone. Can't I go to a coffee shop by myself?
Elsa bit her tongue lightly and dismissed the sarcastic remark formulated by her tired brain. Merida was a nice girl.
"I'm waiting for my boyfriend," she replied politely.
"But it might take a while because he's coming from work. He said he has a meeting with his boss…so…" she started to trail off, not really knowing what to say next.
She looks at the other chair at the end of her table.
Uhm, should I offer her a seat or something? What if she wants to sit down and chat? I mean, she's with her friends…is she gonna go away soon?
There was a pause. They were both awkwardly standing, facing each other.
Tick. Tock.
Elsa felt her hands moist with sweat and she slowly wiped them on the sides of her jeans, hoping Merida didn't notice.
"Well," Merida started, breaking the silence. "Yer welcome to join our table while ye wait for yer boyfriend. That is, if ye would want to," Elsa's eyes followed Merida's-to a table with two guys and a girl who was standing up and using hand gestures to support whatever story she was telling, causing the other two people to laugh heartily. She looked like she was doing some Karate moves.
"That's Mulan," Merida chuckled. "She goes to another school and she just came back from China after winning a Martial Arts competition for her university." Merida smiled proudly at her friend's direction.
"So what do ye think? Do you wanna come join us?"
Elsa started to chew on the inside of her left cheek while Merida waited for her answer. Seconds passed by. "No…no thanks," Elsa stammered, almost choking on her words.
Why are you so antisocial? Your father did not spend thousands of dollars for those lessons just so you can flush it down the drain and look like a fool in front of people.
"I'll just wait there. Thank you for the offer, though. But I think you should have fun with your friends,"she managed to muster a coherent sentence, silently chastising herself for her lack of grace.
Merida nodded understandingly, a smile forming on her face. If she was disappointed, it did not show in her features. She wasn't really expecting Elsa to say 'yes.' But it was a worth a shot.
Although they had worked together before and had a few interactions because they were in the same classes, Elsa did not strike her as someone who liked to talk. The platinum blonde would only speak when spoken to or would politely ask generic questions about her day and how she was doing.
The red head did not push Elsa to talk more, noticing that she was already struggling with small chit chats. Instead, she let Elsa take control of the project and did her best to contribute. Their project earned the highest grade in class, which boosted Merida's grade average and she felt very lucky that Mr. Oaken decided that they should do their project in groups because she knew doing this on her own would lead to nothing but a grade that would be barely passing.
Being paired up with Elsa convinced Merida that the gods and whatever higher being that existed up there liked her and favored her. She knew of Elsa's reputation and she knew that being paired up with the class valedictorian would help her pass. The red-head was not very fond of studying and working in quietness. She was the school's archery team's captain and she had only taken Psychology class as an elective because some of her best friends who were pre-med majors were in it.
Elsa meticulously handled the inner workings and the logic of their presentation, while Merida did her best to assist her and provide her own feedback which Elsa gratefully appreciated and included on their final drafts. But in all honesty, Elsa was the one who did most of the work. Merida knew better and left the reserved girl to do what she wished.
Inevitably, Elsa had won the approval and respect of her professors (and gained herself many admirers from the same and opposite sex), but as usual, would politely shift away from the attention and did her work diligently and silently. The whole staff and most of the students knew who she was by name and her association with the great Walt Arendelle, but Elsa did her best to be an honorable student and earned her grades by working hard…not because she was the daughter of the famous neurosurgeon who donated a huge amount of money to the school so it can triple the size of its library so more books and computers can be added to it. Books and computers Dr. Arendelle had also provided.
She politely declined extra credits from professors and exclusive invites from other "elitist" students whom she found to be snobby and condescending of other students who did not specifically meet their standards. The quiet and reclusive young girl spent most of her college days alone, until her boyfriend, Hans came to the picture and acted as her main companion for the past few months.
"It's okay, lass. There's always next time," Merida smiled, and turned her head towards the table that was currently invaded by her friends and back at Elsa.
"I guess I'm gonna go. I'll see ye in school," with her smile not leaving her face, she waved at Elsa and made her way back to her friends who were still laughing with that girl named Mulan. Elsa managed a weak smile and a small wave, watching her classmate reunite with her group of friends.
Oh, Arendelle. You're hopeless.
Sighing, Elsa retreated back to her chair and lifted her arm, a few breaths away from her chin, to check the time on her wristwatch.
7:15 PM.
As if suddenly remembering something very important, she grabbed her handbag from across the table and fumbled through its contents hastily. Relieved that she found what she was looking for, Elsa stopped her search and eyed the small container box held gingerly by her fingers.
The brown container had the word "Godiva" written boldly on it with a gold and elegant font accompanied by a plethora of little circle chocolates painted over it.
I wish these were actually real chocolate.
Propping her elbows on the table, a hand covered her eyes as she leans her head against it while her other hand lazily toyed with the container, feeling its texture and listening to the annoying popping sound sound it made whenever her fingers moved. A few minutes had gone by before Elsa nonchalantly snapped open the cover of the container.
With steady hands, she gently and carefully spilled one "chocolate" on her palm and examined it closely, a small grimace forming across her face.
Remember to take these during breakfast and during dinner. These will help. But be careful, because it's the highest dosage since the last few dosages did not work. This is the top and best product of its kind. I've seen my patients achieve great results. Don't discontinue you medication like you did last time, Elsa. I know you want to keep this a secret from your father, and I respect that since you are of age…but please…just follow the directions. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.
The words of her psychiatrist, Dr. Corona, echoed in her mind.
Thank God for physician-patient confidentiality.
Nodding to no one in particular, Elsa slightly parted her lips, sneaking in the "chocolate" with one swoop of her palm.
Well, chocolates make me happy. Apparently, these would, too.
Her "chocolates" weren't brown and round like those painted on the container. They were much smaller and coated in a dull shape of blue. In fact, they were far from sweet and feasible.
Zoloft. 40mg. Take twice a day.
Elsa recited mentally as she took a sip of her coffee to help swallow her not so sweet "chocolate."
Originally from an orange and threatening-looking prescription bottle, Elsa decided it was best to keep her pills on a different location where no one can see. She did not want the maids finding prescription bottles in her room. She did not want her father to find out. And besides, she hated the color orange. She hated taking these things just so she can function everyday.
She hated being so….weak.
Shutting out the noise and the laughter that was resonating through the room, she pulled out her phone from the pocket of her bag.
A text message from Hans flashed across the screen.
Hi babe, I'm two blocks away from the place. See you soon!
Elsa closed her eyes, a sharp sigh escaped her lips. She heard her heart thump ferociously against her chest as her body temperature rose. Her cheeks were suddenly warm, dusted by a bright shade of pink. She felt hot. Uncomfortable. Hot.
Her hands started to tremble slightly.
Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Relax.
You can do this, Elsa. You have to.