The Coffee Pot Date

My back ached with each step along the broken sidewalk. Each vertebrate cracked, begging me to find somewhere other than a couch to sleep. The air smelled of wet cement, the forecast had been predicting a storm for days, and it seems today it’ll finally come. Storm clouds rolled in the distance; it wouldn’t be long before I was drenched, I guessed. At least it was hot enough for me to welcome the cooling spray of a crying sky.

I continued down the street when my stomach grumbled with a hunger so deep. It had been a while since I had a home-cooked meal. The smell of my mother’s homemade chicken noodle soup lingered in my mind. She would spend all of Sunday preparing it, measuring each ingredient to perfection. I would do anything for that soup right now. I would do anything to go back and... I couldn’t. All I could afford these days was a loaf of stale bread and whatever my friend, whose couch I was sleeping on that week, was willing to give me.

I searched my pockets, praying I had more than some loose threads, but alas, all I had were a couple of dimes and a quarter. My stomach grumbled harder. The best I could do was keep walking and hope I came across a lost hundred-dollar bill. I came upon the ‘Coffee Pot’ cafe, stopping short when I saw a hiring sign in their crisply clean front windows, covered in a decal depicting the steam of a coffee mug turning into flowers. I wasn’t qualified for much. I barely graduated high school and dropped out of community college after one class. I’ve worked jobs here and there, but never long enough to get a good recommendation. I could only hope that they were willing to give me a shot, and maybe a muffin in the process.

I stepped into the cafe lounge, blasting with cold air that made the hair on my arms stand up, goosebumps trailing. The sweat that was beginning to pool on my forehead stilled, and I pushed the damp hair of my face, resting my hair in the tangles when my world slowed. Time stopped, and my breath hitched. There was a girl standing at the counter, laughing with the barista. What a beautiful sound. She had long auburn hair, perfectly straight down her back, not a single strand out of place. She had this cool, pale skin that you could tell from here was freckled with constellations. She wore a light-wash jean jacket over a floral sundress. Clearly, she cared more about burning her shoulders in this heat than she did about getting too hot. I bet even burnt to a crisp, she would be perfect.

She must’ve been friends with the blonde barista behind the counter. They laughed like they’ve known each other for ages, comfort and familiarity I’ve had little experience with. I must’ve been staring more noticeably than I thought, for the blonde barista caught my eye, her smile instantly falling as she warned her friend. The auburn beauty turned around, and I couldn’t help the gulp I swallowed. I had been raving about her hair and her freckles, but it was her eyes that were perfect. Big, deep brown eyes with long cured lashes. They were the eyes of a cartoon princess. They held so much emotion, so much beauty. They were bewitching. Those eyes furrowed into a confused expression as she noticed me, but I was too stunned to speak.

“H-hi,” I tried to say, as I awkwardly waved.

“Can I help you?” she responded in a cool, raspy voice.

“Hi,” I said again, stepping closer.

She continued to look at me, crossing her arms in front of her chest; her friend mirrored her. She raised a brow at me and stepped back from the counter.

I stood in front of her and reached my hand out, “I’m Colby,” I said. I could feel my goofy smile, my cheeks hurting. I hope she didn’t mind my slightly crooked teeth. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to the dentist.

She hesitated at first, but then took my hand, shaking it firmly. “I’m Wyn,” she responded. She looked at her friend before letting my hand fall. “Uh, are you going to order?” She asked.

“Right,” I whispered, wiping my hand on my jeans after realizing how sweaty they were. I hope she doesn’t think I was grossed out by her hand. Maybe she was grossed out by mine. I turned to the blonde barista; her name tag read Gwen. “Hi, Gwen,” I swallowed a stutter, “how much are your muffins?”

Gwen pointed to the sign that noted that muffins were two dollars. I reached into my pocket to count the loose change again. I pulled all I had out, counting it all over again, but only got forty-five cents each time. I blushed with embarrassment. This was not one of my finest moments. I haven’t had many fine moments, but this certainly tops them all.

“Sorry,” I whispered, stepping away from the counter. I placed the change back in my pockets. I don’t know what I was thinking. What was I thinking? What was my plan? The truth is, I never had a plan. That’s why I was in this position in the first place. I never studied, never tried hard. I didn’t plan for what would happen after high school. Nothing ever went right when I tried hard, so I stopped trying. I tried hard to save my mom, but it didn’t matter in the end. She still died. She still left this world thinking I hated her. I never hated her; I hated myself.

“I’ve got this,” said Wyn. I was startled out of my train of thought. No one, in all these years, had offered me help without my begging. I looked at her, I couldn’t help how watery they felt. She looked at me, and she didn’t look as disgusted as she did before. She looked genuine. She looked like she could read my thoughts, feel my feelings.

“Why?” was all I could think to say.

“You look like you could use it.” Most people would have been insulted by that. And maybe most people would have intended it as so. But that wasn’t what this was. I did need it. Not just the muffin, but the offer of warmth.

“Thank you,” I said as she reached across the counter to hand Gwen the change. Gwen grabbed a blueberry muffin from the glass counter beside her. She wrapped it in a napkin before plopping it into my hand. Her expression as she looked to Wyn, who nodded, before looking back at me, allowed a small smile on her face. I gave her a small nod in return before heading towards a quiet table in the back.

I sat in the wooden chair when the sky exploded with lightning, and the rain finally began to fall. Relief is what the rain screamed as it raced down the windows of the Coffee Pot. I unwrapped the muffin wrapper, ripping off a piece of the fluffy top and popping it into my mouth. It had been a while since I’ve had a blueberry muffin, let alone a muffin. The flavour melted in my mouth, dancing along my tongue. Blueberry muffins were my favourite as a kid. My mom would always get me one after a trip with her to the doctors. Her appointments always terrified me because I knew they meant something bad was happening, and back then, the worst thing I could ever think of was losing my mother. I didn’t know back then that I would actually be living that reality.

I stared out the window, watching the rain pour, when Wyn was standing in front of my table, two hot coffees in hand.

“Can I sit?” She asked as she was already taking a seat, placing one cup in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked, caught off guard.

“A coffee,” She laughed. That beautiful sound.

I chuckled a bit, “I know that. I guess I meant why?”

“You looked like you needed it?’

“You’ve already said that,” I said, recalling only a few moments prior.

She just shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee and pushing mine more towards me, insisting I drink it. So, I did.

“What’s your story?” she asked, getting straight to the point, cocking her head as she did. “Gwen thinks I shouldn’t be sitting over here. Is she right?”

I stared at her for a moment; my hands wrapped around the warm cup as I swallowed a bit of muffin. She raised her brows at me. I liked how she looked when she was intense. I like how she looked like she would never let me get away with anything.

“I just moved here a little less than a year ago,” I coughed up.

“Why’d you move?” she blew on her cup before taking another sip.

I stared at her some more, debating whether I should tell her the truth. Should I tell her everything?

Her gaze softened like how it looked when I first saw her face. Those big brown eyes, a pool of warmth and comfort. She looked trustworthy, caring. She looks like she would understand. She looks like, even though she looks put together and perfect, she would understand what it was like to be grieving.

“My mom and I had a fight. It didn’t end well. I said some things I didn’t mean and moved away to prove her wrong.”

“And did you?” She nudged.

“No,” I said sadly, looking down at my cup.

“And have you tried to make up with her?”

I looked up at her, ashamed, “No.”

“Well, why not? I could help you figure out what to say if you tell me more. Believe me, I know what it’s like to argue with your mom, but in the end, she’s still your mom, and-”

“She died.” I said, cutting her off abruptly, “cancer.’ I confirmed.

“Oh,” she said softly, now looking down at her own cup, “I’m sorry,” she said, looking back up at me, meeting my gaze and smiling.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling but unable to let it reach my eyes.

“You know,” she started, “it doesn’t matter what you said in the end.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter. No matter how bad the argument was, she knew you loved her. That’s how it works, love unconditionally.”

She reached out to touch my hand, wrapping her hand around my fingers, allowing her thumb to swirl around my knuckles. She gave me another small smile, pulling her hand away and standing up.

“I should go,” she said, hastily heading towards the door.

“Wait, what?” I asked, but she couldn’t hear me.

She stepped out into the rain, pulling open a miniature umbrella she had in her tote.

“Wait, wait. No.” I said, getting up, leaving both my coffee and muffin behind.

Gwen trailed my movements as I raced towards the door and out into the rain. Getting drenched in the rain, I looked in both directions to see which way she went. The rain was blurring my vision, drops falling into my eyes as it drenched my hair, but I could see her walking to the right. I ran towards her, almost slipping on the sidewalk in my beaten black Converse.

“Wait!” I yelled, but the rain drowned out my voice. “Wyn!” I tried to yell, but she was getting further and further away.

She started to turn the corner, and I was beginning to lose hope. She was moving too fast, and it had been a while since I’ve had the energy to do this. I stopped running, defeated. I let someone else get away. Another opportunity gone with the wind. What was this life I was living? Would my mom forgive me? Would she be proud of the man I am? Of the life I was living?

I could hear her voice, telling me it would be okay after handing me a fresh blueberry muffin. She would tell me to get some good sleep and start again in the morning. She would tell me to wipe the rain out of my face and keep running. She would tell me not to let her get away, to not give up.

I couldn’t give up, not this time.

I swept my hair out of my face and continued running. I ran and ran and ran, because mom would. She would’ve run after me if I had let her. She wouldn’t have let me get away if I didn’t push so hard. Tears streamed down my face alongside the rain, but I didn’t let that stop me.

“Wyn!” I called again as I rounded the corner. When I turned fully, I was startled, heart beating loud and fast, to find her standing right in front of me. “Wyn,” I said with a smile on my face.

“I forgot my hat,” she said.

“You weren’t wearing a hat,” I corrected, confused.

“I know,” she said as she dropped her umbrella, “I just wanted to prove that Gwen was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” I asked, the rain soaking us both now.

“You,” She said, stepping closer, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Taking a chance,” she said, leaning in to kiss me.

The warmth of her kiss made the cold downpour seem like a mist. It was deep and passionate. It was the personification of taking a chance. Of the willingness to try. Maybe trying was worth it. Maybe it didn’t always end in disappointment.

She pulled away, smiling, arms still locked around my neck, my hands around her waist. I was speechless; I couldn’t will the words from my stunned mouth.

“Are you going to ask me out now?” Wyn teased.

I swallowed hard, staring at her. She cocked her head again. She was like a cat; she was curious and fearless. She reminded me of my mom. My mom would’ve done something reckless like kissing a stranger in the rain. In fact, she did when she met my dad. She took a chance on him after meeting him once. I think my mom would’ve loved Wyn. She would’ve teased me about how good my taste was in women, and she would’ve told me to take the chance, too.

“Yes,” I said with more confidence than I ever had. “Wyn, would you like to get a coffee with me?”

“Absolutely.” She said, taking my hand and leading me back towards the Coffee Pot.

She led us back into the warmth, dripping water all over the floor, leaving Gwen slightly scolding us. Wyn gave her a wink as she led us back to our table. She waved over to Gwen, a silent conversation between them, and she brought over some fresh mugs and a cinnamon bun with two forks.

We took our first bites of the fluffy pastry when the rain let up. It was a short but intense burst. Any other day, the rain would have made me miserable. Today, I will cherish the rain forever.