Amenah's Coffee

Nathan walked alone along a quiet street. The air was calm. The stars twinkled overhead. He paused at the street corner. Here was a shop he had never seen before, and yet the sign was faded. He often walked this street when feeling lost and lonely. And lately, he had found himself wandering these streets more and more often. He was looking for something, or someone. He didn’t entirely know.

The faded sign told him that the shop was called Amenah’s Coffee. Amenah. He’d had a dream about a girl named Amenah before. Before he knew what he was doing, he opened the door, the entry bells jingling. The coffee shop had a rather brown interior, and it was dimly lit yet welcoming. As he stepped over the threshold, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were stepping into a familiar living room. There was a fireplace crackling quietly in one corner, and a sofa in front of it. Traditional tables lined the place, with cushy chairs, and along the left and right walls were various paintings of flowers and coffee. And the place was empty, save for a woman of about Nathan’s age standing behind a checkout counter.

When Nathan laid his eyes upon her, she smiled at him warmly. She was pretty, her light brown irises catching the glow of the coffee shop lights.

“Hi!” she said, as Nathan approached the counter. “What can I get for you today?”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then finally said, “Has this place always been here?”

She gave him an odd look. “I’m actually not sure. I got this job yesterday.”

“That’s funny,” Nathan said, “I’ve been down this street a bajillion times before, and I’ve never once seen this shop.”

“That is rather weird.” For a moment, she looked at him closely, and then she said spontaneously, “Have we met before?”

Nathan looked her up and down. “I don’t think we have. Anyways, I just wanted to check this place out. I don’t really want any coffee.” He looked away from her. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll be heading out now.” He turned and began making his way to the exit.

He had opened the door, the bells jingling, when suddenly she said, “Wait.”

Nathan paused, turning around to face her, shooting her a questioning glance. “My shift ends at 12, if you wouldn’t mind sticking around–we could go for a walk after, around this street. Nathan checked his watch. It was 11:55. 5 minutes.

“Why?” he asked.

She gestured about herself. “This place is a ghost town. I could use a little company. And I have nothing to do afterwards. So–”

“Okay,” Nathan replied. He could use the company, too, instead of walking around the city alone as he usually did. He took a seat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. In the silence, he ruminated on the odd appearance of the coffee shop–and this woman, who was a stranger to him.

Amenah sighed, cleaning up the place, before flipping the sign to CLOSED at 11:58. “It’s not like anyone else is gonna come into this place anyway.”

“Let’s go,” she said, stepping out into the summer air, the doorbells jangling in her wake. Nathan got up, quickly following her outside. Amenah turned, locking the door behind her.

“So, do you live around here?”

“Yeah,” she said, “but I just moved here a week ago–so I don’t know the city well.”

They walked side by side through the lamp-lit street, shoulders almost touching, the warm air of summer coating them as they walked. They walked and walked, talking about random things—their lives. Nathan felt at peace with her, breathing lightly and airily.

“Do you like it? He asked, “The city, I mean.”

She smiled faintly, “Yeah. I think I’ll stay here for a while. I’m sort of a nomadic person–but this city–” She let out a breath. “I don’t think it will ever get old.” She laughed then, tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind one ear. “Although I’ve only been here one week–who knows–maybe I’ll be bored with it when I wake up tomorrow.” She cast him a wry smile, side-eyeing him.

“Oh,” he said, “what’s the longest time you’ve ever stayed in one place?”

She sighed. “A year? Two years? I don’t know. They all seem to blend together after a while. I always end up moving away, for one reason or another. A relationship. The area gets too loud, too cramped… too boring…” She paused, and her face turned wistful. “Even when I was little, I was always moving from place to place. My father was in the military, so we were always on the move.” She paused, perhaps waiting for Nathan to say something, or perhaps solely to enjoy the silence that suddenly passed between them.

“It’s strange,” she began once more, “I hated moving when I was a kid. And yet now, every place I go seems to get boring before long. Stale. Maybe I’m just waiting for something different to happen to me.” Her voice took on a softer tone. “I never really had a home. Sometimes, we would return to a place after years of being away. I would see my old classmates. It always hurt. People who were once friends, but were now only strangers.” She paused again, looking at Nathan, watching him. He only listened intently as they walked along the street.

“There was this one girl in first grade–her name was Cam–she was the closest friend I ever had. And when I moved away, she said that she would never forget me. And I knew that I would never forget her. But when we moved back to that same area, 5 years later, she had grown up and had new friends, while I had nobody. We said hi a few times to each other, but it was never the same.” She looked at Nathan. Without even saying anything, they had stopped walking. They stood beneath a street light, and Nathan looked at her, truly looked at her, for what felt like the first time.

Nathan found himself staring into her eyes. Those light brown eyes. For some reason, he thought they looked like shattered glass. Beautiful and yet broken. Amenah. A look of surprise crossed his face. She was Amenah. His Amenah. The Amenah from his dream. She stared at him quietly, saying nothing. It was as if, for a moment, they were frozen in time.

“I hope you stay,” he said, “maybe here, you will finally find what your soul is searching for.”

She smiled at that. “I hope I do,” she said softly. Nathan checked his watch. It was 1 AM. Even the street, which was usually busy, was empty and quiet.

She noticed and said, “It’s getting late. This was nice. I have work tomorrow, though. So I have to get going. ” But Nathan didn’t want her to leave–he felt drawn to her, in a strange, inexplicable sort of way. She noticed this too, and said, “It would be nice if you walked me home.” She gave him a small smile, beginning to walk down the street, Nathan at her side.

“Your name–,” Nathan said, “it’s Amenah.”

She looked at him. “How’d you know?”

“Would it sound crazy if I told you I had a dream about you before?”

Amenah had the good nature to smirk at him. “Was it a sexual dream?”

Nathan laughed. “I honestly don’t remember. It was a while ago–it probably wasn’t.” He rubbed his neck, embarrassed.

Amenah’s voice turned haughty. “Are you saying I’m not pretty?”

He flushed. “No—I mean—you are—”

“I’m just messing with you.” She grinned, and Nathan shot her a death stare. “You’re cute when you’re all flustered.” Another death stare. She laughed. They turned down a street that Nathan had never been down before.

“Where exactly do you live?” He asked.

“Just down this way,” she said, gesturing down the street they had just come upon. They walked down the street together, the lamp light casting shadows along the buildings, the wind ruffling their hair.

“This is me,” Amenah said, pausing between two townhouses. “I never got your name.”

“It’s Nathan,” he replied. “We should do this again sometime. It was fun.”

“Here,” she said, handing him a piece of paper with a grin.

“What’s this?”

“My phone number.” Nathan smiled at her, staring once more into her light brown eyes. Shattered glass. She twirled a strand of her auburn hair around one finger.

“Goodbye,” she said simply, turning to go.

“I’ll call you,” Nathan said. Five feet. Ten feet. Fifteen feet. He watched her walk away, her silhouette turning to shadow. All of a sudden, the street felt too quiet, and the strangeness of the night came crashing down on him. The sudden appearance of the coffee shop. This street, which he had never seen before. And now, as he watched Amenah, walking not towards a doorway, but to a shadowy area between two townhouses.

There was nothing there. Not a doorway, nor a townhouse. An empty rift of shadow. She was walking towards nothingness.

“Wait!” Nathan called out to her. “Where are you going?” Before he knew what he was doing, he felt himself running towards her. “Stop,” he yelled, “that area isn’t safe–you can’t go there!” Amenah didn’t turn around. She walked farther and farther away, farther into the shadow.

Nathan looked around himself, bewildered, for anyone–anyone who could help him save Amenah, but the street was deserted. A ringing was starting up inside of him. His body writhed. Still, he ran towards Amenah, her body now nothing but a shadow. “Amenah, wait!” he called out again. And then, right before she was about to disappear into nothingness, he woke up.

He awoke panting, Amenah’s name still lingering on his lips. It had all been a dream. His bed sheets were tousled about him, and he was alone. Sun streamed in from his bedroom windows. The ringing–the ringing was still there. He looked around himself, gaining his senses. His phone was ringing on the nightstand. Someone was calling. He grappled for it. Amenah.

Still reeling from the dream, he pressed answer.

“I’m sorry,” Amenah said, before he could say anything. About last night–how I reacted.” In an instant, it all came crashing back.

The night before, they had been at dinner, when Nathan had asked her to move in with him. They had been dating for two years, and he’d remembered that first night they had met, how she’d told him the longest she’d ever stayed in one place was for one or two years. He couldn’t fathom losing her. She hadn’t reacted well. In fact, she’d suddenly become distant, her face pale, her eyes looking far away. She’d been drinking from her glass when he’d asked the question, and she’d suddenly dropped it on the table, the thin glass breaking. She’d looked at the glass, her face a mask of shock, her eyes seeming to shatter like shattered glass. Her lip trembled, and large tears burst from her eyes. Without warning, she’d run out of the restaurant, her evening dress wet, disappearing into the shadowy night.

Amenah’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “I just panicked. I hadn’t realized we were that serious, and then I realized I’d never been closer to a person, and I didn’t know what to say to you, but I didn’t want to lose you, and I realized that if I really did move in with you, I would truly call it home, and I’d never realy had a home before, and it was just all too much.”

Nathan was silent, listening patiently to her. And when she finished, he waited for a moment before saying, “It’s okay, Amenah, it’s okay. I understand–if you’re not ready to move in with me, I get that.” He waited for her to respond.

“Oh,” she said simply. “I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about you. And–I’m ready to move in, if that’s still okay with you.” She paused for a moment. “And I love you,” she said, rather quickly.

“I love you, too,” Nathan said. “It would be great if you moved in with me.” He found himself smiling ear to ear. “By the way,” he added, “you're cute when you’re all flustered.”

He could almost hear her glaring at him behind the phone.

“See you soon, Nathan,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Nathan said, and Amenah hung up.

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door of his townhouse. He opened the door for Amenah and her suitcase. “Hi,” she said, stepping over the threshold. “You know–last night I had the strangest dream.”

“Was it about a coffee shop?” he asked, half-jokingly, as he took the suitcase from her. Standing in the doorway, they locked eyes—her beautiful light brown eyes, no longer shattered glass, but clear and whole, as if she were seeing the world for the first time. Nathan knew, in that moment, that it had been the same dream. Without warning, Amenah embraced him. He set the suitcase down and held her tightly. The sunlight streamed in from the still-open door, catching her auburn hair.

“I missed you so much,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“I missed you too,” he replied, stroking her hair, and as a summer breeze filled the room, he felt her let out a contented sigh. They relaxed into each other, at peace within each other’s arms—two pieces of a puzzle, coming together to form a picture. Not a perfect picture, but one that was finally whole. And for the first time in their entire lives, neither of them felt the need to wander.