2. Coffey Cafe – Mar
CHAPTER 2
COFFEY CAFE
MAR
My panties are drenched in my unholy fluid because some man turned me on by jumping from a bridge. How little it takes to turn me on these days …I think while sitting next to my mother on the way to the family business.
I cross my legs and plan to head to the restroom to wash up as soon as we get to the shop. Feeling this way in such proximity to my mother feels…gross. It reminds me of the one time she caught me masturbating, and I tried to play it off like I was using a flashlight to read under my covers. Except there was no book or flashlight under the covers, just my hand beneath my panties.
Mom uses her free hand to move my hair, covering up my bald spot. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I lie and turn so I’m facing the window as she continues to drive.
Before Coffey Cafe, Mom worked for a business she retired from. She started in her early twenties as a secretary and worked herself to the top, landing as Vice President of Finance before she retired last year. She doesn’t know how to not work, so it made sense to invest some money in something to keep her busy. Dad worked at a factory. I’m still unsure what he did there, but I know he took pride in his work.
“Look at this parking lot!” Mom exclaims after getting out of the car as we walk toward the entrance of Coffey Cafe. “I’ll have to leave a note for the nighttime custodian. We can’t have litter in the parking lot when we’re known for being eco-friendly.”
The litter she is referring to is cigarette butts, and I wonder if they are considered eco-friendly or not since they are in fact, filters.
The shop isn’t large, but it’s big enough. The front windows are lined with twinkle lights. A two-person table in front of one window, a four-top in front of another, and the last one houses books for Coffey Cafe’s Little Free Library. My mom restocks it with banned books on my suggestion.
While my mother goes to the counter, I hit up the Library to see what’s currently inside. I rub my fingertip on the spines as I read: The Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby, Beloved, Speak, Monday’s Not Coming, and one I’ve never heard of before. I pick it up and read the title—Forever Twenty-Nine. Hmm, interesting. I place it back and turn facing the counter.
Standing behind the register is my best friend, Verdi. She has her ice-white hair up in a bun on top of her head secured by what appears to be a chopstick but is more likely a pen of some kind. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten when we bonded over our love for the cardboard bricks in the classroom. Verdi was raised by her aunt and was destined to be the next American Idol, but her dreams were shot down when she didn’t make it past the first round of auditions. She was told to change her look and come back next year. She didn’t. Now she works as a barista for my parents and does some open mic nights now and then.
A customer is consuming her attention, but her smile brightens when she sees me. The customer walks away, coffee and a scone in hand. Verdi announces, “Well, look who Paul brought in!”
My mother is Paul, short for Paulette. I rush to Verdi and give her a big hug. She seems smaller somehow, but I’ve always felt like a monster compared to her petite frame. “How have you been?”
“Well, since we talked this morning, everything has gone to shit.”
I called her right before I made my drive to town. “Really?” We let go of each other. I move my hair, again.
She laughs. “Kidding. I’m fine, better now that I know you’re here and safe.”
My mom hollers from across the small room, “Did she tell you about the accident, Verdena?”
“What? An accident?” Verdi squints and frowns at me like I have never been truthful to her a day in my life.
“Mom! It’s no big deal.” Unconsciously, I move my hand to my bald spot. If Verdi notices it, she doesn’t appear as if she does, but I did warn her that I’m self-conscious about it.
“Mmmhmm. I’ll be in the back if you two need me,” Mom calls over her shoulder as she passes us and heads through the door to the back of the cafe.
“What is your mom talking about?” Verdi asks me.
“Nothing.” To change the subject to something that isn’t me, I ask, “What’s that shelf over there for?” There is a stand at the end of the counter that used to house baked goods. The baked goods have been moved to a case on the counter near the register and there are weird stickers all over the old shelf now.
“Oh, that’s for mobile orders and Dine on Demand pickups.”
This place is turning into a real-ass coffee shop. “Wow, the ’rents are keeping up with the young crowd.”
She shrugs. “They didn’t want to, but since they have, orders have doubled almost daily.”
“I didn’t know they offered Dine on Demand in River Falls…” I admit.
Verdi goes to help a customer who walked in and I take in the rest of the store. There is a man seated at the four-top table, a phone in one hand and a coffee in the other while a laptop sits shut in front of him. The shop doesn’t have a drive-thru so even patrons who call in their orders have to physically come in to grab them.
The glass of the windows begins to frost up as if the outside is trying to seep through. The daylight disappears as the minutes tick.
My parents have offered to let me work at the Coffey Cafe while I look for something else to make money, but I don’t want to take away Verdi’s hours. I plan to find some sort of online teaching job to hold me over until I can figure something else out. I’m hopeful that online teaching will be less stressful since I won’t have to physically be in the same room as the children.
It’s not that I hate children, I don’t, but when forced to wrangle twenty-plus students in a tiny square classroom for seven and a half hours, I’ll pass. Tomorrow, I will apply for as many online teaching positions as I can and then research other careers where I can use a master’s in education.
I lean on the counter next to Verdi as she begins placing bagels in a bag. With tongs in her hands, she asks, “So you’re staying with Paul and Ellory?”
“Yep. For now.” I have no source of income, so I can’t really afford to live anywhere else, aside from my ’rents place.
“Can I come over?” she asks in a schoolgirl voice. “It could be like old times. You could sneak me in your window late at night!”
“That was once, and Dad grounded me for a week!”
“He did? You never told me. They never made me feel unwelcome.”
“You were never unwelcome. They told me to make you use the front door from then on so they weren’t worried I was sneaking boys in late at night.” I chuckle while thinking back because I did actually sneak a boy in a few times in the night. We were too scared to ever do anything. I wonder whatever happened to Chad…
“You know you’re welcome to stay in my apartment. I have a guest bedroom, so if you ever get tired of the ’rents, we could have a sleepover like old times. Build a fort in my living room.”
I escape in my head to a simpler time when the toughest decision was which movie to watch. We’d stay up fantasizing about potential lovers. I’d tell her which boy I had a crush on ,and she’d tell me which girl had caught her eye that week.
Verdi’s voice shakes me from my daydream. “Don’t look now, but here comes River Falls’ perfect man .”
I let out a choking cough when god-like man is standing outside of the shop. There is no mistaking him as he’s the only person I’ve ever seen with a glowy, caramel complexion. He’s sporting a hoodie and sweatpants. This would make a normal man look like he doesn’t care about his appearance, but this guy could wear a nightgown and still make me weak in the knees. He has the hood up, covering his short, curly dark hair.
Verdi pats me on the back as if I’m actually choking and not just embarrassingly making a fool of myself in front of the patrons. Well, patron. The guy with the shut laptop is still here, even though the shop closes up for the night in five minutes.
I clear my throat while grabbing the front of my neck. “I’m okay.”
She leans in and whispers in my right ear, “Sihn gets every girl’s panties in a bunch. No one expects you to be immune.”
Sihn? That’s an odd name. “I don’t remember going to high school with him…”
“That’s because he’s about ten years older than us.”
“No shit?” He doesn’t look a day over twenty-five. Must be all the time I suspect he spends in the gym. He likely has a skincare routine that’s better than my hand soap and SPF one.
She laughs but doesn’t have time to elaborate because he walks in the door and heads straight for the mobile pickup counter.