I'm sitting in a booth at the little coffee shop near the apartment building. It's the only one I've ever been to that I can actually afford. Maureen had briefly mentioned it to me once. Now, once in a while, I'll stop there for a coffee. You don't realize how much you'll miss a person until they're already gone—I can't stop thinking about Maureen and Joanne, and of course, Angel.
I'm staring blankly at the menu. They have Danish and cheesecake and all that stuff that yuppies and rich people eat, and some sandwiches. I think I'm gonna stick with plain old coffee. It's the cheapest thing on the menu, it tastes good, it keeps me awake. End of story.
"Hi, welcome to JJ's Coffee House..."
I immediately recognize the voice and my head snaps up to look at the waiter. Sure enough:
"My name is Nick and I'll be your—Oh, hey, Collins!" He smiles at me warmly and I smile back, "I didn't expect to see you here!"
"The feeling's mutual," I reply jokingly, "I didn't know you worked here."
Nicky rolls his eyes. "Pays the bills...just barely." He's wearing a black apron and some navy blue jeans, and a bright green t-shirt. He grins again and takes out his notepad. "What can I get ya?"
"I'll just have a cup of hot coffee...Cream and sugar..." It felt a little weird to order something from Nick and I wasn't exactly sure why.
Nicky puts his pad away without writing anything down, and I'm figuring that wasn't a very difficult order to memorize. "Okay, then! I'll be back with that in a sec."
I nod a 'thank-you' and let out a big sigh. It's more than ironic that I chose this place at this time during Nick's shift...It's almost scary. I try not to think about it—or him for that matter until I find myself staring at him when he places the coffee in front of me, and next to it, a small strawberry and cream cheese Danish.
"On the house," he says. Those green eyes are sparkling at me.
I chuckle. "Thank you!" It's the first time I've felt genuinely happy in a long time, and I'm shocked at my own emotions.
"No problem. Can I get you anything else?"
I shake my head, and he laughs loudly. "...What?"
"It's kind of funny, talking to you all formally," he says, forming air quotes with his fingers for the word 'formally'. And with that, he takes a seat right across from me in the booth. "So, how are you?"
Damn, this kid is bold. "I'm okay. Yourself?"
"Can't complain...Well, I can, but I won't."
I laugh a little. "I know what you mean."
"You seemed kind of sad earlier. All hunched over and...you know..." he trails off, and I think it's kind of rude of him to be so nosy...
I just shrug my shoulders. "I was just thinking...a lot of shit going on, you know?"
He nods. "Yeah, I know...I'm here if you wanna talk about anything."
"Thanks." This is awkward. Too awkward.
And then I find myself picking up on the conversation—it's me taking the extra step. I feel like I'm outside myself as I talk with him about anything and everything. He apparently doesn't see the risk of getting fired for not working his shift, as he's sitting with me and it doesn't look like he's gonna move.
"So," I say, "How is it that someone like you is single?" When I realize the words slip from my mind through my lips, I quickly add cooly, "I mean, considering you're a great guy."
The smile that spreads across his face almost makes the room seem brighter. "That means a lot coming from you," he says.
I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, so I say nothing as he continues, "My boyfriend of a year and a half left me after I'd found out I had AIDS. He got tested and he'd contracted it too, which didn't surprise either of us...We'd both been sharing needles, we were both to blame..." He sighs, "But, still, he blamed me and called me an idiot, beat the crap outta me, and left."
I'm surprised at the calmness in his voice as he says this, as if it were nothing. He's telling me, a guy he's known for only a few weeks, his secrets and his life stories.
"I'm sorry," I finally say.
"Nah, it was a while ago," he replies with a wave of a hand, "Have you been with anyone since Angel?"
Slightly taken aback at his abrupt question, I mutter, "Uh...No, I just...have the feeling I'll never find someone like her again..." I feel my throat begin to close up and I stop talking.
"You loved her a lot, huh?" I don't reply. Isn't it obvious how much I loved her?
"Well," Nicky stands up, "I'll bet she's watching you right now. And she's happy. And she'll want you to be happy, too, right?" He adjusts the apron on his perfect hips, and looks to me for a reply.
"Yeah," I answer, "Yeah...You're right."
Another smile. "Gotta go, before the boss kicks my ass..."
I laugh. "Go ahead. Thanks for the coffee; here, I'll pay for at least the—"
"On the house, Mr. Collins," he repeats playfully, "I'll see you at Life Support, okay?"
He turns to leave, and suddenly I'm sad to see him walk away, and I want him to stay...to talk some more with me...
"Wait!" I shout in spite of myself.
Whirling around, Nick glances at me, and I look into those dazzling eyes and lose myself in them. "Yeah?"
I realize that I honestly have nothing to say to him. "I...thanks," I mutter, "For everything."
"No problem, Collins," he chirps, "Take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will," I promise him. And I mean it.
"Hey, Rog? Mark? Mimi? Anyone home?" I sigh heavily into the telephone, "Anyway, I just wanted to say I was acting like an idiot the other day, and you guys have a right to be pissed off...But I'm sorry, 'aight? Thanks for dragging my lazy ass all the way back from the cemetery. I owe you." Another sigh. "Okay, talk to you later."
My conversation with Nicky has helped me more than I thought it would. Since this morning, I've felt like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It's been a good day—one of the best in a long time.
And then I realize I haven't thought about my Angel since this morning at the coffee shop. Warily, I wander into the bedroom and open the closet door. Her most favorite outfits are still in the spots she'd last left them—others we've given to Mimi or donated to charity, as she would have wanted. I pull out her green, yellow and orange sweater, a special favorite of hers, and bring it to my face, absorbing her scent. I blindly shuffle to the bed and collapse against my pillow. I press the sweater against my chest, and the fabric feels warm against my cold skin.
I hear the raindrops pitter-patter against the window.
But for the first time in a long time, I don't cry.
Tomorrow's another day
And I'm thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain
I'm not gonna let it get me down
I'm not gonna cry
And I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight
—Jo Dee Messina, "Bring On the Rain"