The elf barista Naomi finds herself uncomfortably content with life. A chance encounter with a university student upends her life with new friends, found family, and a glimpse into her own origins.
I know there are a lot of people who would find my life very boring, but I don’t see it that way. I just crave structure, even when I feel like I’m impeded by it.
My morning ritual hasn’t changed in over forty years: shower, coffee, and reading trashy novels before work. Sometimes I remember to water my plants. But despite my preference for routine, I’d like to think I’m a little interesting. For instance, I can’t stand being a natural blonde, so I use color depositing conditioner. I’ve dyed it darker, tried magenta and blue, but I feel like purple suits me best.
I also have quite the assortment of frames I’ve collected for my glasses over the years, although most of them don’t match my current prescription. At 6’ 1”, I’m taller than most of my Terran peers, not that I have many. I did get my septum pierced, but I have to hide it when I’m at work. I’ve been holding off on other facial piercings for similar reasons.
I’ve been working at the same coffee shop for eleven years and I hardly remember how long I’ve been on Earth. The best part of not living in Métropolè is that Terrans usually assume I’m in my early twenties; they don’t see someone who has no direction in life. It’s not that I haven’t tried other careers—florist, pilot, theater tech—I’m just content as a barista. For now, anyways. Predictability has always meant comfort for me. Unchanging weekly schedules are pure bliss. There’s still the part of me that wants more out of my life. It’s the same part of me that felt compelled to come to Earth in the first place. I don’t know why I thought Earth would have more for me to do than Mèndian. Maybe I was just bored. Then again, I have a long life ahead of me, so whatever.
At 6:45 it’s time for me to walk to work, so I grab my apron and keys and head out the door. It’s Fall and I love Fall mornings the most. The air is cool and crisp with the smell of dried leaves. There’s something undeniably satisfying about the sound of trees being shaken bare by the ever-chilling winds. I also love living in such a walkable city. My home back on East Métropolè was too spread out to reliably walk anywhere. I’m definitely not built for the suburbs. I love the bustle and liveliness of cities. I don’t even mind the people who won’t acknowledge you, because I certainly don’t want to talk to them in the first place.
The coffee shop I work at, East London Roasters, is conveniently located near the heart of East London University, so Fall means new students. I step through the door of the cafe, and nearly every table and seat has somebody studying or socializing. It’s mid-October, and they’ve been around since late August. I think they might be studying for midterms, but I’m not sure since I never pursued any higher education myself. I’m approaching the counter when my co-worker Claire peeks her head up from behind the espresso machine.
“Happy Friday, Naomi!” She’s such a ray of sunshine. “I missed you yesterday.”
“Good morning, Claire. I don’t usually work on Thursdays.” Claire has only worked at the cafe for a few weeks but I thought she would have figured out my schedule by now. I don’t think I’ve worked a Thursday in over six years.
“Oh, nice. Did you do anything exciting?”
“Just the usual, grocery shopping and laundry.”
Claire moves a blonde strand of hair away from her disappointed face. “I thought an elf would do something more exciting than basic chores and errands.” I don’t even know how to respond.
I walk behind the counter and clock in. My manager, Tony, tells me to switch out with Claire so she can take her break. I head to the espresso machine and start cleaning. The frother is crusted in layers of burnt milk; I really need to show Claire how to clean it properly.
Within a few hours, the cafe is quiet. Most of the students who were hanging around this morning must have left for their classes or whatever their weekend activities are. The door opens, and a young man with messy brown hair walks in. He orders an iced coffee with room for milk. Easy enough. He picks it up at the end of the bar and now he’s staring at me with intense brown eyes. Typical Terran, he’s shorter than me.
“Can I help you with anything else?” I try to alleviate the awkward tension.
“Um, possibly. You’re a Mèndianite, uh, elf, right?”
I reach up and touch my long-pointed ears. “What gave it away?” I need to be better about using sarcasm with customers. Maybe some other day.
He doesn’t answer, just continues speaking. “Oh awesome, would you mind if I asked you some questions about Mèndian?”
“Sure, I guess. I have a break coming up soon, so I’ll meet you wherever you’re sitting.” I’m used to getting strange looks, which I accept due to my appearance, but it feels like so few people ask me about my homeworld. He seems harmless enough.
“That’s so cool, thanks.” He grabs his coffee and takes a seat in the far corner of the cafe next to the window. I do some more cleaning and eventually Tony lets me take my lunch break. I take a pastry and a small black coffee before walking over to where the guy is sitting.
He has a book on Mèndian history open on the table in front of him, as well as a notebook and a pile of other papers. I sit next to him, but he doesn’t notice me at first.
“Hey, you wanted to talk?” I ask.
I think I’ve startled him, but he looks up excitedly. “I’m so glad you wanted to talk to me. My name is Erik. I’m a student at ELU.”
“Yeah, I figured that much. I’m Naomi. Is this your first semester?”
“No, this is my third year. I’m an Earth history major, but I took a Mèndian history class for funsies, and it’s kicking my ass. I was hoping I could talk to an elf to help me fill in some gaps.”
“Sure, I’m not too knowledgeable about history, but I’ll help if I can.”
“Great, could you just-” He stops talking and looks me in the eye, puzzled. “You have blue eyes? I didn’t even know that was possible for elves.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty unusual. Pink is more common. It made quite a stir when I was born, to be honest.”
“What other eye colors can elves get?” I thought he was going to ask me about history, not biology. “Green is pretty common, as are brown, amber, violet, red, and—”
He cuts me off. “So what kind of elf are you?”
Ugh, I hate that phrasing. I wouldn’t ask him what kind of Terran he is. Although judging by the pale skin and freckles, he’s probably native to the British Isles.
“I’m Auvreaux. I grew up in East Métropolè.”
“Métropolè is the capital of Mèndian, right?”
“Unofficially, yes. The Ruhia arrived in Métropolè first, then attempted other portals around Mèndian, but they found that other tribes and regions weren’t as hospitable. A few thousand or however many years later when the Ruhia made contact with Earth, Mèndian started trading with Earth. So, the only commercial portals to Mèndian are located in Métropolè.”
Erik is nodding enthusiastically as he writes. “When you say commercial portals, you mean Kepleran portals?”
“Yeah, them. In the last couple hundred years, they started creating new portals all over Mèndian, especially in some of the more remote regions. Although supposedly they don’t touch the northern lands for some reason. I think they don’t want to deal with the Norr’sk.”
Erik has been scribbling down every word I’ve said and stops. “Who are the Norr’sk? My book mentions the Auvreaux quite a bit, but no mentions of Norr’sk.”
“Yeah, they’re also known as the northern elves and they like to be left alone for the most part. Sociologists don’t have many chances to study them or their behavior. All I know is they’re closely related to the Terr’sk, the tundra elves.”
“Tundra elves? What other kinds of elves are there?”
I tap the bow of my lips, trying to remember grade school information. “Each elven ethnic group uses its own name for itself, and they’ve all been roughly translated into common. So I’m Auvreaux, also known as Metropolitan or forest elves. Heltish are the caveborn, and the Rajakoska take their name from the desert region where they live, and Golka are called swamp elves. I can’t remember what Terran’s call Kalehernik and Qiselinka folk. I also don’t remember what sea elves prefer to be called.”
“This is amazing, this information is barely glossed over in my books. Thank you so much.” I would have assumed this information would be basic Mèndian knowledge, but whatever. “I’m glad I could help. I think my break is just about over, so I need to get back—”
Erik interrupts me, again. “You wanna swap numbers? So we can hang out and I can maybe ask more questions?”
“Uh, sure.”
He hands me his pen and I write my number down in the margin of his notebook. I don’t think I’ve given my number to anybody outside of work in a long time. I hope he doesn’t abuse that privilege.
“Thanks. My girlfriend wanted to hang out, so I should probably get going myself. I’ll hit you up over the weekend?” He hastily scrawls out his number on the corner of a torn page before shoving it into my hand.
“Sure,” I nod, wondering. Did I just make a friend? Is it this easy? I haven’t had one of those in a while. I honestly don’t remember when I had a friend outside of work.
As I return to work, a welcome change in routine begins to take shape in my mind. The prospect of a new friendship adds a refreshing layer to my otherwise predictable schedule.
I have a few more hours left of my shift. As I finish work at 3:30, thoughts of my upcoming DJ gig later tonight linger. I quickly make my way home to prepare. I spin until 1 AM at the Beech Club, usually playing original bouncy house techno and other sample-based music. Saturday is the only day of the week I start my shift at noon, so staying up late isn’t too much of a problem for me.
I get to the club at 6:30 and begin setting up my equipment: two turntables, a mixer, a drum machine, and a phrase sampler. The house technician sets up a couple of floor monitors for me, and informs me that doors are at 7—as always—and that they expect me to start at 7:30 tonight. Simple enough. I decide to sit at the bar and drink energy drinks until it’s time to start.
I’m sipping my drink and mindlessly thumbing through my phone when I hear someone call my name behind me. I turn around to find Erik from the coffee shop. He’s walking towards me with a slender brunette girl and a taller black man with gray dreadlocks and dark goggles.
“Hey Naomi! What a coincidence meeting you again so soon.”
“Yeah, well, I DJ here on Fridays.”
“No shit? Lemme introduce you to my friends.” He points to the taller guy. “This is Ted, he’s my roommate.”
Ted just looks at me without saying anything, at least I think he does—hard to tell with the goggles.
“Hello Ted, nice to meet you, I’m Naomi.”
“I’ll remember that.” What a weirdo.
Erik points to the girl. “This is my friend Alexia.”
“Nice to meet you. Naomi, was it?” she asks with a husky voice.
“Hello Alexia, nice to meet you. You’re Erik’s girlfriend?”
Erik’s face goes red. “Nope, she’s the RA in my dorm. We’ve known each other since forever though.”
I decide I do not have the energy to deal with meeting any more new people right now, so I check my phone and pretend like I need to go prepare for my set. Erik and his friends give me a wave and walk over to some open seats at the bar. The sound guy miraculously comes over and gives me the okay to get going early, so I do.
Everybody in the club is drinking, dancing, and having a good time. I wish I could be as enthusiastic as the patrons. DJing started out as just a hobby, but at this point it isn’t fun for me anymore. I only get ʔ150 a night, which isn’t terrible pay, but nowadays I’d rather have my Friday nights to myself. Having to be around people for more than forty hours a week is draining. I’m afraid I’m starting to get too popular. The club is nearly at capacity every night that I’m spinning. They want me to do Saturdays and Thursdays as well, but I doubt I want to do that. I’m a morning person, and even the thought of intentionally staying up past 10 PM more than once a week is exhausting.
1 AM rolls around. I wind down my set and start to pack up my gear. The sound guy has some generic techno playlist that he’ll play for the next hour or so as the patrons start to leave. I walk up to the bar to find the manager so I can get paid, only to be accosted once again by Erik and his friends.
Erik is very drunk. “Holy shit dude, that was incredible. You are way too smart and talented to be working at that grocery store.”
“It’s a coffee shop.”
Ted steps forward. “Lemme buy you a drink. I seen you drinking just water and energy drinks all night, you deserve something special.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not much of a drinker—”
Ted slams some money down on the bar. “Hey barkeep, round of shots for the four of us.”
The bartender, whose name completely escapes me, lays down four shot glasses and pours some brown liquor into them. I really don’t want it, but I also don’t want to come off as rude, so I cheers with them and take the shot, which I suspect is whiskey given the way it burns on the way down. The manager delivers my check just in time for Ted to order another round of shots for us.
“I appreciate it, I do, but I have to bring my stuff home, and I—”
Erik pounds another shot, belches, and says. “We’ll help you carry it out. It’s the least I can do after you put up with me earlier.”
“It’s okay, I have a cart with wheels and everything. I only have to push it a few blocks.”
Alexia, her speech slurred, says. “And carry it all up some stairs I bet. C’mon, let us help you.”
This is a terrible idea. “Okay, thank you very much. I’m ready to leave when you are.” Why am I going along with this? I’m such a pushover, especially when I’ve had a few drinks.
Ted orders one more round of shots, and I have now officially had more to drink tonight than I have in the past two years. It doesn’t help that I’ve only consumed energy drinks and coffee today. My metabolism isn’t cut out for alcohol, most elves aren’t. My head feels like it’s underwater.
The four of us stumble back towards my apartment. Erik and Alexia are dancing and singing, and Ted is smoking cigarettes seemingly just trying to focus on walking straight. I push my equipment cart as carefully as I can in front of me. We cut through an alley, cross two roads, and arrive at my apartment building at the end of a dead-end street. I shush everybody as we carry my gear up to the third floor where I live. I unlock my door, and instruct everyone to follow me to my spare bedroom. We drop all of my equipment on the floor and head back into the living room.
Ted, Erik, and Alexia sit comfortably on my couch, giggling and arguing and talking about Gods know what among themselves. I pour myself a glass of water and join them in my living room. Part of me wants to kick them out of my home, but another part of me wants to get to know them a bit more. It’s probably the alcohol, but I feel like I want to connect with these people.
Alexia, red-faced, turns to me. “So, Naomi, whatcha doing here in London?”
“Just living. I don’t do anything terribly exciting. I actually kind of want to quit doing the DJ gigs to be honest. I’m not one for crowds. I feel like I could be doing something more meaningful and adventurous with my life. I mean, I used to be a pilot. Maybe I’ll look back into that at some point.”
“Oh, that sucks, sorry to hear.” She’s trying to sound sympathetic, but her drunken words just kind of blend together. “How long have you been on Earth?”
How long have I been on Earth? “Thirty or forty years, I think.”
They go silent. Erik leans forward. “How old are you?”
“I’m not sure. Earth years are longer than Mèndian’s, but Mèndian days are longer than Earth’s. I’m about 100 Earth years, if I’m not mistaken.” I’m actually a lot older than that, why would I lie about it?
Erik and Alexia’s jaws drop. Erik manages to say. “Holy shit, you’re old!” before breaking into laughter. When he’s able to compose himself, he sits up straight. “So, you’re looking for adventure?”
I’m curious. “Sure, what do you have for me?”
“Well,” Erik starts. “I like to study Ruhian portals in the field, and for some extra cash on the side, I decommission them. I got a job next Wednesday out on York Moors Island. I can pay ya ʔ500 just to accompany me on the trip and help with some of my photography gear.”
“Nobody else wants to go with you?”
“Nah, Ted and Alexia have classes, and my girlfriend has no interest in archaeology. So what do you say, you down for some extra cash?”
Alexia looks like she’s about to pass out, and Ted has just been sitting there with his arms crossed the whole time. He hasn’t taken his goggles off once since we met. This group is strange, but I guess I could do with a break from my usual routines. I never ask for any personal days, so taking time off should be easy. The job description sounds innocuous enough, no harm in trying something new. “Alright, I’ll do it.”