Spiked Mocha

“In,1 … 2 … 3 … Out, 1… 2… 3…"

Out on the patio behind the Moonlight Cafe Bernice forces herself to focus on Dr. Zapke's words.

"No one is watching me" - inhale - "No one is thinking about how I look" - exhale - "No one is afraid of me and I don’t need to be afraid of anyone"

Bernice repeats this a few times until the cold starts to soak through her Mom’s handmade parka. She likes spending time at the cafe but the larger crowds at night are kind of a lot. She wants to just go home but she knows if she does she'll hate herself later.

Ok. It’s cold. Brain break over. Get back inside, drink your drink, read your book. Enjoy yourself.

"I deserve to be here as much as anyone else."

***

"Ma'am? MA'AM, please.”

Evelyn stops mid-sentence, realizing she's been talking too long and repeating herself.

Don't, she thinks. You don't want to be on a long train ride with these people after a meltdown.

But are you gonna let some train station clerk disrespect you? She imagines her mother saying.

No meltdowns.

"I do not control the weather," the agent continues. "I can't help you being stuck in town, but you have plenty of time to go somewhere else for a while."

“Go somewhere else??"

"I just mean you don't have to be stuck in the station."

Evelyn pauses, holding eye contact for a moment. "Fine. Thank you.”

The agent takes a silent breath, she knows the difference between a real 'thank you' and a 'fuck you' hiding behind other words.

"There's some nice places just down the block. The coffee shop is easy to spend a lot of time at.”

Evelyn nods, buttons up her new coat, and marches out into the cold, her boots making more noise than they need to.

***

Zack is sitting in the corner by the window doing his best to focus. He really needs a decent grade on tomorrow’s exam. There are only a few weeks between fall break and finals. He’s seen people studying out in public like this and it always seems like bullshit to him. But tonight, trying to focus at home is impossible. His roommates are packing for the break and decided to “clean out” the beer fridge. So here he is. By himself on one of the best party nights of the year. Bullshit.

The night-owl nerd crowd is replacing the study hall crowd and a livelier vibe is taking over. One couple grabs a board game off the shelf. Another group fills in the cushy chairs. In the back, a gathering of D&D nerds is laughing their asses off at something.

Cold air sweeps into the stuffy coffee shop as the front door opens.

Out of all these people, I’m the nerd still doing homework. “Loser” Zack mutters to himself then laughs.

The new arrival by the door stiffens and looks his way. She’s pretty cute, short, and wearing a fancy green coat. The look she gives him jolts him out of his thoughts and he looks back down, staring hard at the page he turned over twenty minutes ago.

***

Evelyn bristles when she hears the boy sitting at the window snicker.

You just walked in the door. You’re fine, she thinks. He‘s not laughing at you. He doesn’t even know you exist, she hears her mother’s voice say. Evelyn forces herself to calm down.

Just as she thinks how dumb he must be to wear white sneakers in this weather, he laughs again, and looks right at her.

That’s it. I’m outta here, she’s thinking but just then she spots an empty table and hurries over to it. She’s already regretting not just passing the time at the station but she’s committed now.

A few of the people around her watch her sit down with raised eyebrows.

What? she wonders. This place is full of snobby little college kids. Why can’t they just stick to their part of town?

After unpacking her book, phone, and charger from her bag, she moves an abandoned cup of coffee to the nearby bin.

People aren’t watching you, she tells herself.

Why would they? her mother’s voice adds.

Evelyn stiffens, sets her jaw, and makes her way to the counter.

What do you have here? she asks while looking at the menu as the barista walks up to the register. The barista gestures lazily to the menu Evelyn is already studying.

Disrespectful, she thinks.

“I’ll have a mocha please,” Evelyn says.

“Hot or cold.” the barista replies.

“Hot..?” Evelyn says.

“Regular milk, soy, oat milk, or -”

“Regular. Please.”

“What size?”

Now Evelyn just stares back for a moment, making eye contact for the first time.

The barista’s face shifts slightly at finally being acknowledged.

“That one.” Evelyn says pointing the middle stack of cups in while maintaining eye contact.

“Medium mocha. Hot. Anything else.” the barista says.

“No. Thank you.” Evelyn replies, making sure to be extra sweet.

She taps her card, skips the tip screen, and thanks the snooty little barista again, extra sweet.

“We’ll call it out when it’s ready,” the barista says, answering the unasked question.

Evelyn flashes a smile and makes her way past the nosy crowd back to the table.

These people are definitely watching me.

***

Zack, no longer able to concentrate, picks up on the extra attention being paid to the lady with the fancy coat. She’s out alone and seems nervous. Something doesn’t seem right to him.

***

Evelyn sits down and picks up her book. The espresso machine’s noise fills the little shop. She sets the unopened book down and picks up her phone. Her face slumps a little, three hours until the train arrives, let alone starts boarding. She starts flipping the screen up and down, looking for something to do.

Evelyn notices that it's gotten quiet around her, but before she can look around to see what’s got the locals’ attention, she realizes she’s got company.

An oddly dressed, and oddly, tall woman is standing at her table and looking right at her. Everyone else around her is looking too. What is this -, her thought is cut off when she realizes she was just asked a question.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Evelyn says very politely.

“I said -” the tall woman says, then stops awkwardly, takes a breath, and starts again, more slowly this time. “Did you at least save my drink?”

Evelyn is truly confused now. What is this whacko talking about?

“My coffee was…” the giant awkward woman continues but Evelyn is distracted. Yup. They’re watching her for sure now. Evelyn flushes.

Oh, she thinks, finally aware that this table had not been unoccupied. Evelyn cuts off her visitor, “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says as she feels the temperature rising.

A few sounds of surprise and even a laugh can be heard from the crowd as the cafe goes silent. She is trying to figure out her next move but the crowd derails this thought and pushes her mind out of embarrassment and past its thin border with anger.

I can’t believe these people are attacking me, she thinks.

“This is my table. I wasn’t done yet.” the intruder says.

She sounds angry now, Evelyn thinks.

“I can make you a fresh one, Bernie,” says the barista.

That one’s definitely been watching, Evelyn thinks as anger begins overshadowing her thoughts.

“No thank you, Claire” the intruder says even louder while still standing at the table and staring her down.

Evelyn has been doing her best to control herself but is starting to think she might have to stand up for herself. If she’s not careful, she’ll get what she deserves for treating me like this.

“You sure?” says the barista.

“Yea,” replies the woman.

“Alright,” says the barista. Then says, “MOCHA!” and flashes Evelyn a look.

Evelyn’s eyes find the barista’s behind the large woman and she returns her look. Seeing her drink on the counter, she realizes she has to get up and make her way past this large, brightly dressed obstacle. Before she can move, the intruder moves toward the counter where her mocha is waiting. Evelyn’s eyes widen and her nostrils flare.

***

Zack, stats forgotten, is watching the scene unfold along with everyone else.

“This is my table. I wasn’t done yet.” says a woman wearing some kind of orange homemade sweater. There’s something awkward about the way she talks as she towers over the crowd of tables.

“Oh boy,” Zack says to himself.

Fancy coat lady was already nervous, but now she’s being called out for making a simple mistake. Getting out of this just reached a high level of difficulty, Zack thinks.

The barista tries to diffuse the bomb but fails. Then she announces, “MOCHA!”

Zack can feel the room’s mood turning hostile. She just made an innocent mistake but this mob has judged her. He thinks.

Zack is enough of a stranger to the Moonlight Cafe to understand how a newcomer can feel out of place. Shamelessly staring now, Zack straightens in his chair and unconsciously sets both feet on the floor. Still not really thinking, he’s mapped out the quickest route from his window seat through the busy cluster of tables between himself and the escalating drama in the middle of the cafe.

***

Bernice comes back in from her break, nods to a few familiar faces, then finds that her table, the one she always sits in, has been taken over by a stranger. And her drink is gone.

Bernice hesitates. Just go home, she thinks.

No. I’m ok. This is ok.

She walks up to the table and does her best to start a calm conversation, explaining that she was just outside and wasn’t actually done yet. But, it seems like the lady can’t hear her.

“Excuse me, can I have my table back? I wasn’t -”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” the stranger says.

Nope. not even listening to me. And how is she angry with me?

“I said -” Bernice starts over but can’t calm herself again. “Did you at least save my drink?”

All she gets in return from the lady who stole her table and her drink is a strange and harsh look.

This always happens to me. No matter what I do, people always get angry or scared. I’m talking to her and looking right at her. Try again and make sure to be clear and polite like Dr. Zapke says.

“My coffee was here. I was sitting here,” Bernice says. Clear and calm. Good. That wasn’t so bad.

Wait, is she ignoring me? Bernice waits a second for the lady in green to look back to her, then collects herself and feels the frustration start to build and her thoughts start to jumble.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says the lady. Her words short and rude now.

People around them are laughing.

“This is my table. I wasn’t done yet.” she says. It’s taking a lot of effort not to stutter and this squatter isn’t moving but is starting to get nervous.

Great, Bernice thinks. Just like always. People are always scared or nervous. They can never just listen or let me be. What does it take to get people to see I’m not a threat and just treat me like anyone else?

Bernice is trying to figure out what to say next when Claire, one of her favorite people, offers to make another drink for her.

“No, thank you Claire.” Bernice responds.

“You sure?”

“Yea.” says Bernice.

A moment passes, slowly, while Bernice thinks about what to do next. Her social battery is dead now and she doesn't care about the table or her drink anymore. Forget it. I’ll just go home early.

“MOCHA!”

As Bernice hears the announcement she sees the lady’s eyes dart toward the counter. That’s her drink. Now she knows what to do. Words aren’t working. I’ll just show her.

Bernice turns around and goes straight to the counter and the mocha. Claire gives her a knowing smile as Bernice picks up the steamy hot cup. Bernice does her best to return the smile.

Bernice steadies herself as she turns. Slow, easy, don’t spill. She thinks. Just take it to her. Trust that she’ll see you’re not scary. This will be over and I’ll find a new table. Before she can take a step, she’s stopped in her tracks by the sudden appearance of a strange boy. She looks at him and can see there’s a question on its way, but maybe got stuck. He looks like the type of kid whose shirt collar goes up when the sun goes down on Friday night, most nights probably.

***

Shit shit shit, Zack thinks.

He had gotten up and rushed over too suddenly. Without thinking, he’d confidently jumped into the spotlight and promptly forgotten his lines. He could feel himself starting to sweat.

The tall one, armed with a fresh cup of MOCHA!, seems oddly calm. Glancing over his shoulder, he can see fancy coat lady turning red.

“Hold on just a sec,” he says. “Bernie, right?”

“Bernice,” she replies, correcting the unwelcome stranger.

“I think I can help.” Zack continues.

Bernice considers this, tilting her head slightly. “It’s not heavy.”

Heavy? Zack, confused, gives the cup a curious look. That’s just enough of a curve ball to push his brain back off track. As he tries to put the comment out of his head and get his thoughts in order, he looks around. He’s got the attention of literally everyone in this place.

Some girls at the nearest table are sitting with arms crossed. The trenchcoat club stops playing whatever cartoony card game they had going. Even the barista, hey she’s cute. Brain back off track again already, Zack just winces and looks back at Bernice, mouth open but nothing to say.

“What are you doing with my drink?” Evelyn asks.

“Oh sh-”.

Zack jumps when he sees fancy coat lady is standing soldier-straight right next to him. Not sure when she snuck up on him, he looks back to see the disputed table is empty, then back down to the seething ball of indignation at his side.

***

“Well?” Evelyn says.

Zack shakes his head slightly trying to force out a word but his mouth hangs open stupidly, just realizing he actually has no idea what’s going on.

Bernice tries to say something but rushes and can't settle on one of the many thoughts flying around in her head, so what comes out is “I’m just - I don’t want - Why…” Stupid, she scolds herself.

“Here,” Bernice says, and thrusts the drink out to them. She can feel that her face is red with frustration and embarrassment, but when she sees them flinch… she breaks.

Zack sees Bernice’s lips quiver and her eyes go glassy.

I might’ve fucked this up, he thinks.

Evelyn almost manages to hide a smile, almost.

Let the dumb giant stand here a second longer, will she cry?

Zack can’t stand the pain on Bernice’s face, so he reaches up and takes the drink, finally having done something helpful. I am an idiot, he thinks to himself.

Bernice can finally relax her arm and get the hell out.

Zack starts to apologize but Bernice is already moving.

Bernice can see the “sorry” coming, along with the pity. She turns and rushes out the back entrance as fast as she can without running.

Zack waits for the noise of Bernice’s exit to pass, then turns to fancy coat lady not yet handing her the mocha.

“You never know what someone is thinking,” he says. “You didn't have to be so rough with her. I think she was just confused.”

“Me? Rough with her?” Evelyn says, extending her arm over her head indicating Bernice’s height. “She was definitely confused if she thought she could talk to me that way”.

This last statement she says more loudly and with a hyena’s grin on her face. Any smile would be out of place right now, but this one, she is relishing this moment. This earns her several gasps from the audience. The Moonlight Cafe is silent, all eyes on the little lady in green.

Evelyn glances around and is suddenly reminded how many people are staring. Her righteous anger wanes and she feels a rush of humiliation.

“Woah! What way?” Zack says, turning toward fancy coat lady fully now. He’s angry now, mostly at himself, but it all shows on his face.

Is this frat boy stabbing me in the back?! I thought this dummy was here to stick up for me! Evelyn thinks, finding her anger, her courage, again.

Evelyn reaches out, grabs her mocha from his hand and flings it straight down at his stupid white sneakers.

Speech forgotten, again, Zack watches helplessly as the girl spikes her mocha on his brand new Nikes. The lid pops off as the dark brown contents rebound from the impact and geyser onto his favorite jeans.

Zack just stands still, mouth open, arms up in surrender.

Evelyn scoops her things off the table into her arms and storms out of the coffee shop, boot heels echoing until she hits the door and is gone.

The tension begins to release from the gawkers and some begin to laugh.

Zack, still standing in the middle of the cafe with a stupid look on his face and arms up at his sides, looks like a drunk kid who just somehow managed to crap the front of his pants.

“Well shit” he says.

The only reply is a dirty, damp towel landing at his feet. He looks up to see the cute barista shake her head and turn away.

Ya. That seems about right.