Before the Horizon

The coffee grinder whirs behind Matteo, filling up the cafe with the inviting aroma. From the corner of his eye, he can see his coworker, Vivian, prepping the espresso machine and restocking the milks and creamers in the bar fridge under the counter. Most of their prep work had thankfully been completed from the previous shift, allowing the two coworkers to take their time in preparing for the morning rush that always came with travel-goers.

The cafe was located on the east side of the airport and looked out onto the runway, which on most days Matteo was grateful for. On such days as today though, he felt as if he was being reminded that he was stuck here. He watched as people hurried past, dragging their luggage behind them, their eyes scanning the area for their gate. Those who were not in a hurry were seated, scrolling on their phones or typing away at their laptops.

From the runway, the blinking lights of one of the planes caught Matteo’s attention. He paused his task of restocking the cups to watch as the aircraft was expertly maneuvered to line up with the gate. No matter how many times he watched this act, he always found himself being impressed with a person’s ability to control such a colossal piece of machinery and place it so exactly in its dedicated spot. In the background, a thin line of orange and yellow illuminated the horizon. He thought it made the large aircraft stand out even more.

Matteo had only flown once in his life before, when he was nine. He, his parents, and his brother and sister had taken a trip overseas to visit his father’s family in Italy. It was his first and only trip overseas, and for the last seventeen years of his life, he had been wondering when his next one would be. Every other vacation his family had gone on was within the states, and they always drove to cut back on costs.

He still remembered the smell of olives and fresh herbs that came from his grandfather’s backyard. Grandpa Nico lived in a three-story limestone house that faced the hills. Matteo and his siblings slept on the back porch with only screens separating them and the outside. When the sun had gone down, the smell of mint, rosemary, jasmine, chamomile, and a medley of dozens of other scents filled the room. Matteo remembered hating the smells his first night there. He thought they were far too invasive and couldn’t possibly allow him to sleep. The next morning he complained to his mother about his sleeping arrangements, demanding he sleep indoors, in a proper room with no outside smells intoxicating his lungs. His mother clicked her tongue, shaking her head with a smile.

“Who doesn’t love the smell of flowers?” She had said, a small smile on her lips. “You’ll get used to it.”

By the third night, Matteo’s senses were used to the aromas that came from Grandpa Nico’s garden, but never admitted to his mother or anyone else that he ended up liking the smells, afraid it would make him seem too girly or delicate.

He was brought back to his cup restocking task when he heard Vivian greet a customer, tapping away at the screen to put in her order. Matteo recognized the patron as one of the flight crew, having seen her and her crew mates frequent this terminal.

“Can I get a name for the order?” Vivian asked her, sharpie uncapped and hovering over the paper cup.

“Cleo.”

“Should be just a few minutes.” Vivian told her without looking up, scribbling her name and getting to work.

Cleo didn’t respond, just moved to the other side of the bar to wait for her name to be called, even though she was the only customer. Matteo decided not to point this out to his coworker, figuring it was more of a force of habit than a mistake. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they would get a slew of customers for their morning caffeine fix.

He tried not to stare, but found it hard to ignore how bored Cleo looked. She looked around aimlessly, glancing at her watch without urgency. He knew that for her, this was just another day at work, but that didn’t stop him from wondering how someone with a job like this wasn’t beaming with excitement. If he had a job where he was flying to somewhere new every day, he couldn’t imagine ever feeling unsatisfied.

Vivian slid the drink over to him, causing him to look down.

“Can you top that with the cold foam, please? I forgot to turn off the dispenser.” She didn’t wait for a reply before hurrying off to the back of the cafe, leaving him to finish Cleo’s order.

He poured the cream into the small blender, turning it on and watching it stir and froth until it was double in size. When it stopped, he carefully poured the foam on top of the drink, causing the white to blend with the dark brown of the coffee, creating a milk chocolate ombre concoction.

“Here you go.” He said to Cleo, not bothering to use her name. Behind her, the sky glowed a creamsicle orange.

She walked up to the counter, and when she leaned forward for her drink, he was hit with the aroma of her perfume. Jasmine.

Matteo barely registered her “thanks” as she walked out, pulling her black luggage bag behind her. Her scent lingered for a few more seconds, slowly dissipating as it was overtaken by the intense aroma of coffee.

Grandpa Nico’s backyard faced east, and each morning Matteo was woken up by the brilliant sunrise while his brother and sister were unaffected by it, still sleeping. It was late June when they had gone, so the sun was even more bright and intense. The first morning that Matteo had woken up on his grandfather’s porch, he thought he had slept in, figuring it would be at least ten in the morning. When he went into the kitchen for some breakfast, he was surprised to see that no one else was in there. For a moment he thought his family had left, but one look at the clock hanging above the entryway between the kitchen and living room told him that it was barely past five a.m.

He went back to the porch, grabbed his sandals that lay underneath his cot, and quietly opened the screen door that led to the backyard. He kept this thumb pushed into the opener on the handle, not letting go until he heard the soft click of the latch. He sat down on the steps, pulling back the velcro straps and adjusting them as needed, and then headed down into the garden. He walked past grandpa Nico’s herb garden, getting the smell of mint, rosemary, basil, and oregano. Right behind the greenery of the herbs stood the jasmine tree. It was only about six feet tall, but its roots and branches were thick, sturdy.

Matteo stood there, looking at the flowers and buds that had yet to bloom. The summer air was thick, yet there was a slight breeze that tickled the flowers. He took a deep breath, forgetting that he was supposed to be offended by the bouquet. The sweetness of the buds filled his nostrils, followed by a punch of earthiness. The best way he could think to describe it was like smelling soil that had been marinated in nectar. He thought it was the perfect balance of inviting and grounding.

The sun hadn’t fully risen, but the sky was getting brighter. Over the dip of the hill, Matteo could make out the horizon, where he saw the tip of the sun poking out, looking like it was ready to burst with brightness and warmth.

The coffee grinder went off again, and Matteo was once again brought back to his task at hand by the strong smell of coffee. A line started to form so rapidly that it would have seemed as if all the people were waiting just outside the cafe for the right moment before going in. He went up to the register, greeting the guest and taking their order. Behind the slew of people, the sky glowed a buttery yellow.