Cafe-Girl: A Girl Conquers World Novella

“Here's my phone number, if you ever want to call me when you can't sleep,” Deborah's voice rang over and over through Matthew's excited brain. He stood holding the napkin with her name and phone number scribbled across it loosely. This was it, this was his in, the initiatory step into whatever was going to be between them. He could toss the napkin in the garbage, a likely story, or pocket it and wait until he got off work to call her. Happily, he moved through the coffee shop to the patio to brag to his friends when the door swung open, letting the cool air blast in and upon him. In a flash, all time seemed to stop, everything that was slipped away into momentary oblivion. Before him, framed in the doorway, the cool air flowing around her, stood Deborah, dressed in completely different clothes than the ones she had just left in, and quite inappropriately dressed for this fall weather, a tanktop and short pants.

“Deborah, what the...?”

She quickly moved into the coffee shop, her eyes aghast and full of wonder, as if this was the first time in a long time that she had been in this place. She moved past him, brushing slightly against his shoulder with her arm, a tingly sensation overwhelmed him with infatuated desire. She moved through the coffee shop, touching each table, running her hands over every chair, warming herself by the fire as she stared mysteriously into the flames for what seemed like a very long time.

“Deborah, I'm confused,” Matthew said, breaking the silence. “How did you...come back here...with different...”

Deborah turned to face him, resolute.

“I don't have a lot of time here, in this place, this moment, Matt,” she said at last. “Let me explain. Let's sit down.”

She sighed with melancholy, moved to a table by the window, and sat. He sat across from her, his hands folded before him on the table.

“You want a cup of coffee or something?” he asked, after a moment of silence where she stared at him in quiet disbelief.

“That would be...so amazing,” she began and then shook her head. “But, there isn't any time, I don't think...” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I can't believe I'm here now, I never thought I'd see it again, never believed, always hoped...”

“Um, weren't you just---”

“No, Matt, not like that,” Deborah started to explain. “I mean, yes, I was but not me here now. That was then, in the past when...oh my god, its only for the beginning for you...she, I mean, I just gave you my number and its the moment after...”

“Wait, hold on, what are you saying?” Matthew blurted out, starting to become worried about the mental state of this girl he liked. “Why are you wearing those clothes? What the hell?”

“Matthew, I'm not the girl I was, the girl that was just here...I'm from a time after...that's why my clothes are different,” she tried haltingly to explain, her eyes pleading for him to understand, hoping that he would.

“Wait, are you saying...like time travel, like you are from the future or some shit?” Matthew asked, pushing his chair away from the table and starting to get up. He had had it with these crazy girls.

“Wait, please, Matthew,” Deborah was pleading, reaching for his arm. “The number I gave you, on the napkin, where is it?”

He pulled it from his pocket and held it out to her.

“And...and your phone, call it now, please,” Deborah begged. He stood there and stared down at her, searchingly. What the fuck is this shit, he thought.

Deborah blinked rapidly, searching for some way to make him see.

“Look around you, at the other people in the coffee shop, the patio,” she thrust her arms around her to get him to look and her eyes welled up again with agonized tears as she saw the rest of the boys on the patio.

Matthew looked around and then looked around again. Suddenly, he saw what she was saying.

“They're...not moving,” he said at last. “Like at all. What the hell?”

He sat down again heavily in the chair and she sat across from him.

“So, call me, her, me,” Deborah said. He pulled his cell-phone from his pocket and looked over at the number, slowly, deliberately he began to dial. It rang once and then the voice of Deborah rang out from the other end of the line.

“Hello? Hello?” Matthew looked up at Deborah before him and then at the phone with her voice coming through. The phone went dead as Deborah on the phone hung up.

“Now you see,” Deborah said with a sigh. “I am at home, in my room, anxious that you aren't going to call, and when the phone rings I've just thrown it across the room, spilling coffee all over the place and when you call me, I don't know who it is, but I'm trying to clean up the mess and...”

Matthew stopped her by touching her arm. “It's okay,” he said soothingly.

“You'll never talk about this, the two of you, we never do,” Deborah responded.

“So, we become a we,” Matthew said with a hopeful smile. Deborah stared out the window wistfully. “So, if you are from the future, then right, what do you want? Why are you here?”

“Huh?” was all Deborah said as she stared outside lost in thought.

“Well, you came back for a reason so...,” Matthew urged her to speak.

Deborah looked around at the cafe and sighed.

“This place is so cozy. I've missed it so much...no matter how hard I try, I can never find another place like it...but...its not the place that makes it so special, really, I just realized that.”

“Deborah?” Matthew looked over at her. “What happens to this place?”

She looked over at him and into his piercingly warm blue eyes.

“Everything's going to change and fast,” she began, a tear trickling down her face. “You know back when I was younger, when I was here, I lived in this magic little bubble of my own little world, my own little reality, and I thought, I really wanted it to go on forever and ever...but what I have learned is, nothing ever lasts, you've got to hang onto those moments of happiness for as long as possible, hold those shreds of peace in your heart before...”

Matthew opened his mouth to speak but then shut it, remaining silent, watching her, waiting for her.

“And even now, its not what it seems, not as perfect as I thought,” Deborah smiled sadly. “I went into this cafe seeking....seeking love, answers to all my doubts, solace from the world's scariness...and it...it found me here, even here.”

Matthew's eyes flew open.

“What are you talking about?” was all he could say.

“I just wanted to...be here one last time, with you, with everyone,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Just to feel the fire's warmth and crackle, absorb the atmosphere of this place, see you as you are before...Matt, don't trust what you see on the outside, all is not what it seems now.”

With that, she started to fade right before his eyes. He reached for her, calling her name.

“Deborah, Deborah, wait, don't go!”

She responded to his calling, her voice trailing off further and further into an echo.

“Matthew, come and find me whatever you do.”

And, then she was gone. The rest of the world around him in that cafe returned to normal. He sat back and let out a huge breath. Did that really just happen? He stood up and moved down towards the patio, pushing the door open.

“She gave me her phone number!” he exclaimed.

“Nice,” said James yet Matt thought he heard a hint of jealousy in it. Yet he shook it off. This was good news and nothing was going to damper his happy moment.

Deborah pulled out her keys from her book-bag and stuck them into the lock of her small apartment. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing her small one bedroom apartment, the living room a-mess with dirty dishes on the coffee table, books strewn about, nail polish and left over clippings from her last self-imposed beauty night. She sighed, she had never been this much of a slob in past years, but with the onset of grad school and the weight of the three years had brought on a sense of lethargy and impassive care for her surrounding environment. She set her bag down in the hallway and reached for the keys to her mailbox, hanging on a hook on her hall table.

She moved through the open hallway of her apartment complex, down to the first floor where the mailboxes were located. Unlocking the small door that opened to her mailbox compartment, she expected only to find the usual bills and ads that she would most likely toss in the garbage, well, the ads not the bills, she'd get in trouble if she did that. But, what she found as she pulled out the mail, standing there shivering in the half-cold of October leafing through, yes, the bills, ads, was a personal letter from him...from Matthew. Her heart skipped as she read his name again, how long had it been since they had spoken to each other, let alone seen each other? Deep inside herself, she felt a stirring within, the emptiness that had so consumed her in recent years started to dissipate with a sense of longing...and could it be...perhaps, love, at least of some sorts. She hurried back up the stairs to her apartment.

She sat on her sofa, a mug of tea in both hands, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring at the unopened letter sitting atop her coffee table. She'd cleaned up a bit, the dirty dishes were in the sink, the nail polish and its sundry items were placed back in the bathroom so merely before her was the letter sitting alone by itself. As she stared at it, she took it in fully, its loneliness resting there on the coffee table echoed the loneliness within her. In her mind's eye, she saw Matthew alone at a coffee shop, lonely like her, staring down deep into his coffee mug, his hands wrapped around it, not unlike hers around her tea, a cigarette dangling out of one hand, waiting, hoping, longing, maybe.

It had been three years since that night at the bar. Three years since Matthew had called the police and the investigation and subsequent trial. The police having disregarded her re-telling of her visions as evidence but had discovered that the necklace itself with DNA evidence of both James and Eve was sufficient enough evidence for booking. Deborah had not been able to attend the trial, work was her excuse but really it was due to her not wanting to acknowledge the truth of the state of James, that even though she had witnessed per her vision the murder, she could not, did not want to, believe he was capable of such atrocity. The jury had found him guilty, a psychiatrist had found him mentally unstable and labeled him with paranoid schizophrenia. He was up north in jail now in a psychiatric unit. Shortly after the trial had concluded, Deborah moved closer to her parents house for graduate school, in none other than, psychology, leaving all of them behind, trying to run as far as possible from them which was proving to be impossible. The faces of Shaggy, Thomas, Ray, Matthew, and even James swam up at her. The happier times, hiking, drinking at the bar in the crow's nest, the long talks and joking days over their coffee mugs and cigarettes at the cafe...it all refused to disappear from her thoughts but was there like an ever present and insistent companion in every moment of her days, waking and otherwise.

Alone in her apartment, a tear trickled down her face. She had managed, she rationalized, to stem the tide of emotion on this whole matter as far away from the fore-front of her heart as possible but now with the letter before her the emotion began to flow. Slowly, she set the tea mug on the table before her and picked up the letter. Holding it, the envelope felt heavier than what it should, heavy with the weight of memory. Reluctantly, she opened it and pulled the sheets of paper from within.

“Dear Deborah,” Matthew wrote. “Its been awhile since we talked and I just thought I'd reach out, say hi, see how you are doing...I am not sure why but I think about you from time to time, a lot. Anyway, Shaggy, you remember, he went up north to Portland for college and then randomly he ended up getting up an internship for NASA. Its true! You remember how he used to rail away about the government, all those conspiracy theories with NASA...Life is ironic, huh? He says that sometimes the best way to fight is by joining the ranks, or something like that. Ray joined some gay hippie commune, doing fine, me and Shaggy visited him a few times when he last visited. Thomas even visits him sometime, which is weird, because...well, they had a thing for awhile, I suspect. Yeah, random, huh? Anyway, he got married again, is living up in northern Idaho or something like that, and calls me almost every weekend railing against his wife...Feel like I'm going to have to go on a rescue mission to save him!! And, me, well, I got a job as a waiter at this local restaurant and I've been seeing someone new...”

Deborah gasped at that, unconsciously threw down the letter into her lap, picked her tea up, took a long sip, and wiped a tear from her eye. She picked the letter up again and although her eyes were wet with grief and resignation began to read again.

“I'm not sure where it is going, if its anything serious,” Matthew continued. “But she's a fun girl, her name is Denise, you'd like her, I think...I hope. So, what else? Yeah, James is still up in prison, heard he's doing fine, they got him on meds and he's seeing a therapist, that's what I heard. I guess Thomas visited him a few times, until he got married and moved. And, the coffee shop, well, I guess you were right when you predicted it would close...after the arrest and everything that happened, people didn't come in as much, I guess they didn't want to associate themselves with controversy or something, so we had to shut the place down...but the city, they tore the whole building down after they bought it...and you know what is going in there now, I've heard a fancy new restaurant. Wonder what the restaurant next door thinks of that! Like my city needs a new tourist trap...city improvement at its possible! Ha, ha, maybe I should try to get a job there! Anyway, that's pretty much all the updates up in these parts, what's new with you? Still in school? Please keep in touch. Much love, Matthew.”

Deborah put the letter gently in her lap, half noticing the tear stains where her wet fingers had smudged some of the words. She pushed any thought of what that sadness and regret could mean. She clasped her mug in both hands again and stared straight ahead, wanting to silence the thoughts swirling in her head, memories calling back to old times she wished she could forget. Times that were filled with joy and love but then shadowed with heartbreak, fear, agony, and painful good-byes.

It was if the times before that night at the bar when the police had been called and the gang of them had been ushered down to the station to be sequestered in separate rooms before James had been booked was the last time she felt truly happy and free. The times when her and her boys sat drinking their coffee, laughing over Shaggy's crazy conspiracy theories, commiserating over crazy exes, pontificating on the meaning of life and the possible existence of God, and all the while trying to figure themselves out and to find a sense of direction for this life were the last shred of her youth now gone in the painful memory of the realization that it hadn't exactly been true. That at least one of her companions, a man that she believed to have been her soul-mate and first love, had proven to be false, hiding a darkness that left her reeling with a sense of distrust ever since. And, now with the confirmation of the demise of the coffee shop, she felt even more a sense of loss, was there anything left for her to believe in this world? Was there anymore love, faith, connection to be found anywhere? She sipped her tea and let her eyes stray out the sliding glass door of her porch to the grey skies and waited...waited on a prayer and a wish for some answer to the darkness crowding into her neat little world.

Deborah woke with a start. She was in her bed, it was late at night and she thought she had heard something in her living room. Cautiously and quietly, she got out of bed without turning the light and moved down the hall. In the living room down the hall, she saw the blue light of the television. 'I must have just left it on, that's all,' she thought trying to calm and reassure herself. She moved with a little more determination and strength into the living room and stopped at the end of the hallway, frozen and speechless.

Before her, standing directly in front of the TV, was James.

“Deborah,” James said in a soft whisper. He opened his arms, inviting her to come to him. She stood, unable to move, stupefied and speechless.

“Are you really here?” She asked at last.

James smiled at her, understandingly.

“Remember I used to say to you, I'll meet you in my dreams tonight,” he explained reassuringly.

“You look like you used to look...so long ago,” was all Deborah could say as a sob caught itself in her throat.

“It's how you wanted to see me,” he said with a sad smile. And, the dam broke. Deborah collapsed onto the couch, sobbing.

Brokenly, she said, “Right here. You are still right here in my heart. Even after everything that happened, you are still right here. Even if I tried to forget you, I can't forget...that I love you. You once told me that I needed to find a love more than fire, bells, and whistles. I needed to just know that I am loved. With you, I have that, when its all said and done. Even when you are far away...I still know. But, there is still this loneliness because I can't see you---

James crossed over to her and sat by her side on the couch, not touching her. But, she felt him and it wasn't fear like she was used to, like she thought it would be. It was just as it had been before, she felt a sense of peace restoring itself to her life. She looked up at him then and their eyes met, studying each other, taking each other in again.

“When I look into your eyes, I see the reflection of my own soul,” James exclaimed with a contented sigh.

“I do too,” Deborah admitted. She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap.

“What are you thinking about?” James wanted to know, placing his hand atop hers and gently stroking her fingers.

“Just thinking about...,” but Deborah couldn't go on. She looked down at their hands entwined with each others.

“Just say it,” James said. She looked up into his eyes and saw that he did truly know her thoughts.

“The old times, what life was like, how simple it was. I can still see it, in my mind, almost like I'm still there but its just starting to fade...the cafe. And you. And all of it. I don't want to let go but still...Thinking of what I wanted back then, the foolish young girl I was, trying to paint the picture of my life and love. The fairy-tale life, you know. And its just that...I'm angry, when it comes down to it. Angry at myself for believing in that, and not seeing. But, we can never really see. We only see what we want to, with rose-covered glasses. Its not black or white, bad or good. It just is. I'm angry at you because you left me and said you wouldn't. Couldn't,” She spoke quickly, letting all the years of pent-up emotion and unanswered questions full of doubt pour forth out of her.

James thought a moment and then soothed the hair out of her eyes.

“I still can't. Remember, "Love will last forever," was all he said.

“James!” Deborah exclaimed and turned away from him.

James laughed to himself and then said, “You know, I looked up the meaning of our names recently, in the library in jail. You know what my name means? Supplanter. But, your name, Deborah, means Honey Bee. And, your middle name, Ruth, means loyal friend.”

“So?” responded Deborah, glaring at him.

“You are a loyal friend that brings sweet things,” he explained at last. He smiled and pushed her hair out of her eyes again, stroking her hair down her back.

“Tell me what to do now...I'm tired of...fighting,” Deborah pleaded haltingly, tears began forming in her eyes.

“Me too. Deborah, my honey bee,” James agreed reassuringly. He took her hand. “I'm sorry that I never believed in you. Maybe there is one soul-mate for all of us, maybe there is more than one, pushing us to the great love. Who knows? I only know that, you have to go on and you will...without me.”

“But--”

James silenced her by placing their hands on her heart.

“Deborah, don't let me go, no matter what. I"ll be right here, always,” he soothed. “I'll live on forever in your heart, your eyes, your dreams. Write my story, our story. And, Cafe-Girl, I love you. And, good-bye.”

He leaned over and kissed her, sweetly, serenely, and for the last time. When she opened her eyes, he was gone. Deborah looked frantically around the room before she said out loud,

“Will I ever see you again?”

The rest of the night she barely slept but tossed and turned as she went over and over what had just transpired. What would the psychiatrists think of this? Would they call her crazy too? What would all the good little Christians friends of hers say? Would they call her demon-possessed?

The next morning she stumbled out of bed early, brain foggy more from the confusing jumble of unresolved emotions swarming up inside of her. She dressed quickly in warm outdoor clothes and laced up her hiking boots. Grabbing her backpack, she stuck her wallet, water-bottle, and journal inside of it. Out the door, she swung, keys in hand, down to her car. But she passed it and just started walking, heading to the nearest trail that would lead her outside of the cement confusion that was the town she currently resided.

She stopped at a local coffee shack and bought a cappuccino, hoping that the taste of that would quiet the painful memories. She kept walking when she found the trail as high and as far a she could go. After about twenty minutes, she stopped, catching her breath, and turned to face the city, awash with the morning sunrise of pinks and fresh yellows. It was a new day, could it be, at last? She looked around her, and suddenly realized she had no idea where she was or really how she had gotten there. Directly above her was a large rock. She climbed up to it and sat down, pulling her journal out of her backpack, rummaging around inside she located a pen. She turned the pages to find a blank page and stared hard down at it:

“So, what's the story about?” She asked aloud to the trees, plants, valley below. “A story of what...of too much caffeine?”

From somewhere far back in the reaches of her memory, she heard Thomas's voice echo through to her core:

“Seen you at the coffee shop, sometimes, Deborah.”

“Youth? The Golden Road?” Deborah asked, looking around to see if he had heard her. In response, she heard Ray's voice echoing back to her from the past:

“King of the lawn gnomes, they call me.”

She looked out over the city and screamed, imploringly:

“How does the story end? A story of a journey? Of friendship? Tell me please.”

She fell silent then as the next voice rang through her entire being shocking her completely.

Matthew said, “First snows are the best times for walks.”

She collapsed inside herself, wrote something in her journal, then read it aloud:

“A story of regrets? A story of the search for true love?”

“I'll meet you in my dreams tonight,” James responded as clear and present as the rock she sat upon and the birds awaking from their nightly revelries.

She wrote again in her journal and without thinking, read it aloud:

“A story of pain, or strength?”

She looked around, hoping for an answer from some place, someone.

“You're all right, yourself, Deborah,” came the reassuring answer from Matthew.

Again she scribbled in her journal, then spoke these words in a whisper:

“A story of hope, or nothing?”

“Live your life, Deborah, and be happy, no matter what, be that,” was Matthew's answer from the far away distant past.

She cocked her head and felt the wind push back her hair. For the first time, she realized she had been crying, so used to it she had become, with the wind touching the tears stained against her face.

“A story of truth?” she asked the universe or the city below her, hoping somehow for an answer.

“Never give up the fight,” Shaggy chimed in from far away in the distant past. She laughed out loud, then wrote in her journal, reading it as she wrote:

“A story of forgiveness, of letting go? a story of redemption? "I started going to a coffee shop recently, never thought I'd be a cafe girl, you know, but I always wanted to be....I just wish there was some book, something to explain and help navigate. I just wish it didn't hurt so bad. Endings."

She looked up from her journal, taking it all in and felt a presence beside her, on the right side. Turning, she saw no one, nothing. Then, came the voice of James:

“When I look into your eyes, I see the reflection of my own soul.”

She looked outward over the city and beyond, she sighed resolutely, at last beginning to understand. In her mind, she heard her boys that one night at the lithium fountain chanting:

“One of us, one of us, one of us!”

She smiled and whispered, “A story of love.”

She sat watching as the sun rose higher into the sky, watched as the city became alive with cars and people just starting their day, their lives afresh. Resolved, she put her journal into her backpack and stood up, looking around her. She remembered that she didn't really know where she was or how to get back. Reflecting back, she remembered all those hikes with them, her boys from the cafe, how she always trusted that no matter how high and how far, they'd get her home. She shivered because now she was alone, all alone. With as much determination as she could muster, she hopped off the rock and began cautiously heading down the mountain, hoping to come out near where she could make herself home.

As she made her way down the mountain, the path became more and more clear to her, she was going in the right direction. The laughter of hikes long ago echoed back to her and kept her moving forward. Pushing through a low hung bush, she emerged outward on the street and before her was the street leading to the little coffee shack and her apartment beyond.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. She had done it, she had made it back home and all by herself. With a sudden relish and revelation, she understood that this was all they had ever wanted for her. To be herself, to be brave, to be unabashedly fully alive and true to herself, without apology. It was then that she knew what she must do and do quickly.

It took awhile, the drive backwards into time always did. She made it back into her old town where it all had happened in mid afternoon. Checking into her hotel, she dropped her bags on the bed and sat with a thud beside them, hugging her knees to her chest. Was she really going to go through with this? Was it, in fact, at all a possibility? Was this really how it would end? She picked up her phone and willed herself to dial but then set it back down on the bed.

The rest of the day and into the night she wondered aimlessly through the town, looking into the store windows, into the faces of tourists and the locals as the darkness descended both outwardly and inwardly. As her stomach began to grumble with hunger pains, she realized how lonely she in fact was.

She found herself quickly entering into the town bookstore and noticed the lights of the coffee shop upstairs still lit. She hurried up the stairs in search of a bite or a drink or...maybe. When she reached the top of the stairs, she stood motionless in the doorway. Directly across from her, he entered the coffee shop from the other entrance, stopped, and stared at her.

Without seeing anyone else, they crossed to face each other, not taking their eyes off of each other.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, breaking the still silence.

“I think I'll have a cappuccino if..,” she began.

“If?”

“If only you would read my fortune please,” she said laughing. They moved over to the counter and she ordered her cappuccino from the much younger barista (she realized). Matthew flung down some money on the counter before she could get her card and said, “Make that two please!”

“So---” they both said at once. Matthew nodded for her to continue politely.

“You from around here?” She joked.

“Yeah, I'm a townie,” He chided her.

“Ah, my first townie!” She played along.

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly serious. “Yeah, I was.”

The barista took the money, handed back the change, and deposited their cappuccinos onto the counter before them.

Deborah looked into her drink and then up at Matthew, teasingly.

“Well?”

He looked down at her drink and smiled, “Well, looks like you are in need of a walk--”

“It looks like snow,” Deborah noted musingly.

“Its the first snow,” Matthew informed her.

“First snows are the best time for walks, or so I have heard,” Deborah smiled back.

They crossed down to the exit that Matthew had entered in previously and out into the inky darkness descending onto the town. Deborah reflected that she felt a lightness that she hadn't felt for a very long time. They walked beside each other quietly through the city, into the park, the snow starting to fall softly in drifts around them, sticking to their hair, their clothes, the ground beneath them.

In the park, their shoes crunched gravel thrown down to ensure the safety of pedestrian travelers. They kept walking side by side, Deborah looking up and all around her, a calm sense of peace erupting throughout her whole being. They stopped by the creek and looked down over the rushing cascading water, the fullness of the winter river healthy with the fall of rain and snow. Deborah breathed it all in, looked at him, released everything. His piercingly warm blue eyes caught hers and she saw for the first time:

“Sometimes you fall in love at first sight, sometimes it takes awhile.”

Falling In Love at a Coffee Shop