Irish Coffee
"A 'first meeting' is, by definition, a one-time opportunity, and there's no going back."
Cup, counter, look up, smile, call out drink, next customer.
"One cafe latte!"
I looked up with a bright smile even though my feet were aching in my non-slip shoes. Thankfully it was near the end of the afternoon rush, and I should be able to go on break after finishing with the last customer in line.
The businessman in front of me hadn't stopped talking on his bluetooth the entire time he was here, which made it annoyingly difficult to take his order. Without looking, he grabbed at his coffee. His hand glanced off the cup and I watched it topple in slow motion. The lid flew off and hot coffee sprayed over the whole counter.
Both the businessman and I jumped back, avoiding the scalding liquid.
"Ah, shit — one second Dave," the man scowled. "What the hell?"
I fixed a smile on my face.
"I'm so sorry about that, sir, let me make you another."
"No, no," he looked at his watch and his scowl deepened. "Forget about it. I won't be coming back!"
Oh no, whatever will we do without your business, I thought sarcastically, maintaining a perfectly happy expression.
With that he turned and hurried out the door, jostling the man waiting behind him. I crouched to grab a towel and somewhere above me he said something, but the words blended with the music floating through the shop.
"What did you say?" I asked as I looked up, hoping I'd be able to discern what he said. I couldn't help but smile as my breath caught in my throat. The man standing at my counter must not have been too much older than me. His hair was long enough to brush past the nape of his neck but he had the soft brown curls tucked neatly behind his ears. He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and gave me a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. He wore a cardigan over a dress shirt and tie, and a brown crossbody bag gave his hands something to fiddle with.
"Ah, I just said he wasn't having a very good day," he said, blinking a few times as his eyes slipped over the counter. He seemed to notice everything at once, and I hoped he didn't think anything of the way my gaze flicked to his lips as he spoke before I met his eyes again. He had a cute cupid's bow, and as someone who sees a lot of lips I feel qualified in saying they were nice lips.
I used the counter to help me to my feet and began to mop up the coffee.
"Apparently not," I said, taking care to not accidentally push any coffee towards the customer. "Sorry about that, what can I get you, sir?"
I paused and looked up while he spoke, leaning on my lip reading as the music muddied his voice.
"A large mocha please," he said, shifting a little as if he were nervous. "And could you stir some extra sugar into it while it's hot? The, uh, the extra heat helps the sugar dissolve so there's no little granules at the bottom."
Huh, I didn't know that.
"Sure thing, sugar," I replied with a bright smile, happy to learn something new and relieved to have a pleasant customer after an hour of government drones rushing in and out as fast as possible. I turned and began the drink, glancing back as I waited for the milk to heat. The man had ducked his head, reading a slim book while he waited. His free finger ran down the page and he muttered to himself as he flipped page after page.
He probably read a whole chapter in the time it took me to make his drink!
I couldn't help but let my admiration show a little as I set said drink in front of him.
"One mocha, extra sugar," I said as he looked up. I leaned my elbows on the counter.
"Whatchya reading?"
He blinked a few times, glancing down at the book as if he had forgotten he was holding it.
"Oh, uh, it's Sygdommen til Døden, it's a book of Christian existentialism by Søren Kierkegaard. It presents the question that death isn't the end, and true death is spiritual, not physical," he rattled off in an instant. I stumbled over a few of the forgeign words, but I was able to put the sentence together with context.
The man stopped speaking just as quickly, a light pink spreading over his cheeks as he ducked his head. Leaning over the counter, I stole a peek at the pages he had been tearing through.
"Kierkegaard, in the original Danish too! Impressive," I said, returning to my side of the counter. "Are you a philosophy student?"
He nodded, almost unsurely. "Yeah, I'm working on my BA now."
I grinned at him. A fellow academic, I could appreciate a kindred spirit.
"I haven't made it to Kierkegaard yet," I admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "Still working through Plato and Hegel."
He seemed to perk up a little, eyes sparkling. "They're good!" he exclaimed. "Hegel's theory of dialectics strongly influenced the work of Karl Marx. Because Hegal claimed that reality should be examined by a series of logical and rational arguments, Marx created the theory we now know as historical materialism," he caught himself and the pink on his cheeks deepend to red. "...sorry, I ramble sometimes. Are you a philosophy student as well..." he glanced at the nametag pinned to my apron, "Katie?"
I pursed my lips in what I hoped passed for a smile and not a pained grimace, avoiding his eyes to wipe a few stray drops of coffee away. This man's gaze made me feel like he could see everything about me with just a glance, but it helped that his dark honey-brown eyes held no malice that I could see. That and the fact that he seemed more nervous around me than anything.
"Nope!" I forced some cheerfulness into my voice. "Not yet, at least."
He opened his mouth a little, as if he was about to reply, when his attention was suddenly drawn away. Shifting his book he pulled a phone out of his pocket, flipped it up, and answered.
"Reid," he said. I turned the name around in my mind. I wondered how he spelled it, ei or ee.
He pinned the phone between his shoulder and ear, stuffing Sygdommen til Døden into his bag and picking up his coffee.
Sorry he mouthed to me, and he did look apologetic. Hoping he knew not to worry about it I gave him a big smile and watched as he hurried out the door, returning the phone to his hand and striding off down the sidewalk. I let out a wistful sigh and grabbed a cleaning spray and paper towels to go over the counter again. If only everyone who came through this coffee shop's doors was as interesting and pleasant as that Reid.
And as easy on the eyes, I thought, biting my lip to hold back a girlish giggle.
I glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite the counter. Just a few more hours until closing, then a quick bus ride to the diner. Everyone in the cafe was taken care of, so I gave myself a few minutes to get off my feet.
Pulling my phone out of my apron pocket I opened my bank account.
Starting to pull ahead, I thought with a tired relief. I wouldn't be quitting any time soon, but my savings account was finally starting to look a little healthier. I closed out of the app and stared at my background.
It was a picture of my mother and I. I couldn't have been older than 6 or 7, and I was wearing the biggest smile a little kid could manage. My mother was holding my hand, her smile matching mine. Behind us rose the stairs and columns of the National Gallery in London. I traced my mother's face for a moment, then shut my phone off and slipped it back into my pocket.
The hands of the clock moved slowly for the rest of my shift. People drifted in and out, none staying longer than a few moments. The sun fell behind DC's towering skyline, and as the sunlight disappeared it felt like my energy went with it. By the time the last customer waved goodbye and I wiped the last table down the room was swaying around me. I glanced at my watch.
Ten hours since breakfast, medication is beginning to wear off.
I slid out a seat and took a few deep breaths. My stomach wasn't pleased but it settled after a minute off my feet. Once the room was steady again I stood and finished closing the shop. As the lock clicked into place behind me I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It felt like being battered by ocean waves.
My feet carried me to the street corner and I slumped against the sign indicating the bus stop.
I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this, I thought, stifling a yawn.
The bus pulled up and stopped with a screech of brakes that instantly had me clinging to the signpost in pain. The cold, dirty metal cutting into my hand had nothing on the high-pitched scream that bounced around my head, multiplying and hitting the inside of my skull harder and harder. Biting my tongue to stop from crying out, I pushed off the sign and stumbled onto the bus. Over the ringing in my ears I heard a muffled voice saying something. It was as if the voice was speaking to me underwater.
"I-I'm sorry…" I stuttered, forcing myself to breathe. Hands shaking, I fumbled through my bag and pulled out my wallet, finding my bus card. I shoved it in the direction of the driver, who only gave it a cursory glance and waved it away.
"- - -kay?"
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few more deep breaths, the painful ringing dying down to an aching headache, and looked up at the driver. Somehow I had ended up slumped on the floor by the door. The old bus driver was leaning over me, concern etched in the deep wrinkles across his face.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, Connie" I said, tripping over myself to apologize and get up off the filthy floor.
"Hey, that's alright Katie," he replied kindly, offering me a hand which I gratefully accepted. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah." I sighed deeply, brushing my hands off on my jeans. "It was-"
"The breaks, right?"
"Yup," I popped my 'p', shaking my head sadly as I returned my bus card to my wallet. "Still figuring out how to manage it all."
"You'll get there," he replied, setting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I gave him a weak smile and moved to a seat while he closed the door and released the breaks, pulling out into the road. There weren't many people on the bus, all the commuters had gone home already in an attempt to beat the very traffic they created. The only people left in DC as stars began to blink to life in the sky were those who called the city home.
As the bus rumbled away around me I let myself slump into the seat, chin dropping to my chest and eyelids closing. Before I knew it I had slipped into a shallow sleep.
—
A gentle hand pushing my shoulder roused me and I started awake to see Connie's face once again.
"Hey kiddo, you fell asleep," he said. I stretched out my cramped muscles.
"Thanks for waking me up," I replied. "I owe you."
He shook his head with a smile.
"Just get me one of those coffees you make and we'll be even."
I nodded.
"You got it."
Connie slid back into his seat and gave me a two-fingered salute, which I returned as I disembarked. Then the bus pulled away and left nothing but the crisp fall breeze, scented with exhaust and that peculiar smell every big city has. Adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder, I walked the half-block to a neon-rimmed 24/7 diner.
A few moments later I stepped into the syrup-steeped diner.
"Katie! Boy am I glad to see you," a woman a bit older than me bustled out of the kitchen, arms loaded down with plates piled with pancakes.
"Right back atchya Liz!" I grinned, my exhaustion temporarily lessened at the appearance of one of my best friends.
"Busy night?" I asked when we had both made it to the back room.
"Very," Liz exhaled, pushing a few strands of silky black hair away from her face. "It's started to calm down a little now, mostly just regulars and some college students from the U."
"That shouldn't be too bad then," I replied, slowly standing and stretching my arms above my head. "I'd better get out there."
Liz shook her head with a smirk. "Girl, you work too hard."
I gave her a tired grin. "Without labor, nothing prospers."
She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly.
"This another one of your old philosophy dudes?"
"Nah, this one's an old playwright dude."
"You and your old dudes, when are you gonna take interest in a guy from this century?"
My thoughts flickered to the cute guy from the coffee shop, with his beautiful curls and Danish Kierkegaard book, but it was my turn to shake my head.
"Why bother?" I joked. "Who'd take interest in me anyways? Not like I have time for anyone."
"Without labor, nothing prospers," Liz repeated back to me.
I touched my nose and pointed to her.
"Damn right."
"Alright, alright," she conceded. "Let's get our labor on."
With Liz by my side the first hour of my shift passed quickly, but then ten o'clock came and she bid me goodbye, filtering out with the rest of the regulars. Before long it was just the college kids gathered at two tables in the back corner, heads bent over textbooks and notes. As long as I kept the coffee and snacks coming they were happy and quiet, which was fine by me.
Around 2 am one of the students came up to the counter, asking for more fruit.
"What're you guys studying?" I asked as I handed over the pre-prepared fruit cup and accepted her cash.
"Architecture," she replied, and her attempt at a smile looked almost as tired as I felt.
"Keep at it," I said, slipping another fruit cup to her with a wink. She nodded gratefully and returned to the tables, passing the extra fruit to the boy next to her.
Finally the clock ticked over to 3 am and my replacement arrived. There was little more I could do than give him a tired wave as I gathered my things and wrapped up in an old coat, preparing myself for the cold night.
Thank goodness my apartment is only a few blocks away, I thought, taking a bracing lungful of air. It was a path I was familiar with after two years of walking it almost every night, and a good thing too, because I was half asleep on my feet. I don't even remember most of the walk, dozing as I was, and by the time I got to my blue apartment door it was all I could do to get my key in the lock and inside. Locking the door behind me I let my purse slip to the floor and took the five steps to my bed, collapsing on top of the blankets. With my last ounce of energy I fished my hearing aid out of my ear, setting it carefully on my bedside table.
"I did it, mom," I mumbled into my pillow, fingertips brushing the silver photo frame beside my hearing aid.
"Another day done."
And with that, I slipped into a deep sleep.
Hours later my alarm rang. I woke up, never feeling rested enough but determined to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I felt grimy after falling asleep in my work clothes, so I treated myself to a long shower, luxuriating in the steam billowing up around me. After I scrubbed myself clean I spent a few extra minutes soaking in the hot water. My aching muscles relaxed a little and I felt a bit better when I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. After drying and dressing I slipped my hearing aid in and squared my shoulder, ready to face the day.
And so time went on. It was three days before I saw Reid again.