Chapter 2
You know when you’re on the road and come across a car accident?
You know you shouldn’t slow down and stare, but at the same time, you can’t stop yourself from doing just that. That’s kind of how I felt from the moment I walked into the café and saw Olívia.
All my rationality told me to turn around and walk away from the girl who seems like a walking disaster.
It can’t be possible. There must be some mistake. It can’t be her.
If it weren’t for the dance steps at the kitchen entrance, I’d be certain she doesn’t even have enough motor skills to stand up straight.
She’s not just clumsy. She’s a firecracker.
I’ve never been close to someone who seems to radiate fireworks from every cell of their body—and here you have to consider that I’m the older brother of Martina, a girl who was born with ants in her pants.
Olívia’s big, blue eyes stand out on her delicate face, giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll—a miniature porcelain doll, because the top of her head barely reaches my chest.
As she moves around the counter, I observe her with crossed arms, sitting at the table she indicated. Despite apparently knowing what she’s doing, from where I’m sitting, I’ve seen her knock over two dish towels and a spoon and forget to close the refrigerator.
I’m amazed that someone like her has managed to reach adulthood alive. In fact, she doesn’t even seem like an adult but rather a girl just out of adolescence, although I know she’s of legal age.
Soon enough, I’ll know almost everything about her too. At least as much as the detective can find out. The complete report should be in my hands by the end of the week. What was in Layla’s papers wasn’t enough for me to be sure what kind of person the girl is.
I look around the worn-out-looking restaurant. The café follows the pattern of several others on the poor side of town, just a little more rundown. They stay open twenty-four hours a day—according to the sign outside—and I wonder if Olívia also works the night shift.
“Olívia, what are your shifts?” I inquire from where I’m seated.
She stops what she’s doing, furrows her brow as if deciding whether to answer or not, but then shrugs. “I open the store every day and stay until two, but once a week I also work on Friday or Saturday night. The manager asked, and I agreed because the tips are good.”
“This area isn’t safe.”
“Really? I had no idea,” she says cheekily, but then she seems to remember that she’s talking to a customer and changes her tone, adding, “sir.”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
“Sorry, I guess it’s some sort of reverse quality.”
“Do you need the night shift tips so much that you’re willing to risk it?”
She had started to open a cabinet but pauses again and looks at me. “You’ve already asked me a bunch of questions, so I think I have the right to ask at least one. Why did you come to a place like this?”
There’s no way to answer without lying, but I try to skirt around the issue.
“I didn’t have time to have breakfast at home,” I say, and in a way, it’s true, since Nina didn’t sleep well last night because of the two upper teeth that are coming out.
When she finally managed to rest, I dozed off too and woke up late.
For weeks I’ve been postponing coming to see Olívia in person, and I don’t like to think of myself as a procrastinator. So, even with a busy day ahead, I decided to check on her once and for all.
“And you chose to come here?” She seems incredulous.
The girl is not dumb.
“It’s the first time I’ve visited this part of town. I had business to attend to in the area,” I say, releasing another half-truth. To stop the questions I can’t answer right now, I turn the conversation back to her. “Do you study?”
“In college? I wish. Have you seen how much a university course costs? I’d have to sell a kidney, and I’m quite attached to all my organs.” She doesn’t seem at all resentful when she says that. On the contrary, she’s smiling.
“What would you do if you could study?”
“Are you some kind of inspector? Is that why you asked if I work at night? If so, don’t worry, because I’m already twenty-three years old.
I didn’t run away from home or anything like that.
Don’t be fooled by my height.” She tilts her head to the side, analyzing.
“I think your clothes are too expensive for you to be a government employee, but I’m not very knowledgeable about brands.
Maybe you bought them on sale. You never know. ”
As with the first time she rattled off several sentences at once, I’m a little confused by her excitement, but then I realize it’s a result of the nerves she must be feeling. “I’m not an inspector.”
“And your clothes aren’t from a sale?”
“No.”
“I have no idea why you’re interested, but if I could go back to studying, which I plan to do someday, I would become a pastry chef, so if I could, I’d study gastronomy.”
“Don’t you dance?” I ask, and her cheeks turn into two balls of fire as she shakes her head from side to side.
I don’t know why I wanted to tease her. I’m not in the habit of making jokes, and strangely, my own behavior surprises me, so I add, “There are community colleges. They’re more affordable, I presume.”
“Yes, there are, but right now I need to save money for another project. I don’t work very well trying to concentrate on several things at once.”
She places a steaming cup of coffee in front of me instead of the usual pot served in cafes.
“Try it,” she says, as if talking to a friend, but then quickly corrects herself, adding, “sir.”
The appearance of the coffee is at least better than it usually is in restaurants here in the United States.
“Just black?” she asks again.
“Yes. Always.”
I lift the cup and smell—the scent isn’t great, since as she said herself, she couldn’t perform miracles with the raw materials she had, but when I take a sip, I can’t help but let out a pleasurable moan.
I’m not used to allowing myself emotions in front of strangers, so I put the cup back on the table. However, as I look at her and notice her disappointed expression, I pick it up again and take a longer sip this time.
The hot and strong liquid goes down like fire down my throat, and I close my eyes for a few seconds to assimilate the sensation. When I open them again, I see that she’s watching me closely, and there’s something in that look that puts me on alert.
No. Absolutely not.
Don’t even think about it, girl. It would be complicated in so many more ways than I could try to explain.
Realizing her interest only makes it harder to ignore how beautiful she is. And I’ve been trying hard ever since I saw her picture for the first time.
“Good?” she asks, and I can see her swallow hard.
“Yes, you weren’t lying.”
She smiles, looking relaxed now. “I was raised by a woman who made the best coffee in the world. It’s not like I invented the formula; I just copied.”
I nod in agreement, but my mind is still traveling to other places.
Paying no mind to my silence, she continues to speak.
“Business in the area, huh? Sorry, but you don’t seem like the type who would have anything to do around here unless you came to buy the whole neighborhood,” she says and laughs, but I think she remembers again that I’m a customer.
“Terrible joke. I promise not to open my mouth again. Anything else to go with your coffee, sir?”
“No. Just the coffee, Olívia.” I don’t want her to leave yet. I have more questions to ask, but before I can speak, an elderly man enters the café.
“Olívia, my morning flower. What do you have today to make my day happier?”
“Abraham, I thought you weren’t coming. You’re late. Sit down, and I’ll bring the coffee and today’s special.”
“Sweet?” the man asks, sounding hopeful.
“Apple pie with cinnamon.” She excuses herself before going back behind the counter.
“Oh, my God. I know I’ve asked before, but are you sure you don’t want to marry me?”
She smiles, not stopping what she’s doing. “You know, the idea is tempting, but I think I’d rather stay single. That way I can read my books in peace.”
“Smart girl.”
The exchange between them shows me that he must be a regular customer, but it also brings the certainty that Olívia is an open girl. She seems friendly to everyone, which, in some way, irritates me.
Knowing that there’s no chance I’ll ask anything else in front of a third person, I take another sip of coffee, take a fifty-dollar bill out of my wallet, and leave without saying goodbye.