In Which I Thank You

Life in a Coffee Shop

As a life-long feminist, I never thought I'd actually be thanking a guy, let alone a bunch of guys for my coming of age as a woman.  But, here it goes.

One of the life-changing events of my life happened at a small-town coffee shop in the year 2003, yet it was a time outside of the linear time-line of my life.  True, I could map out it out with the other noteworthy events from my life, high school prom, graduation, college graduation, the year I spent at a coffee shop, my Christian conversion and subsequent aversion, and on it goes.  But, looking back, this time of my life was a stolen season of life, a time outside of regular existence.

In that place, that coffee shop, a magical existence transpired. And, I'm not romancing it as often is done when looking back in the past.  It was a time of turmoil, both in our country and in my own personal life.  Our country had just declared war on Iraq, for some weird reason, as a result of 9-11, and aptly put I was falling in love.  (It seems strange that in times of turmoil on a global level, my love life soars, but there it is.)

In a very real way, I was pulled in many directions.  My friends at the Christian church were influencing me to leave my friends at the coffee shop, while my friends at the coffee shop were, understandably, wounded by that but in the end just living their lives as they saw fit.  Looking back, the beliefs of fundamentalist Christianity was more disastrous upon my life and my relationships than any other association.  But, I digress.

At the coffee shop, I found a group of friends that loved me unconditionally and without judgment.  In retrospect, having them in my life has been more of a far-reaching influence upon my spirituality than any form of organized religion.  They not only taught me about love but heart-break, being true to myself, living in the moment, trusting in something outside of yourself, and in fact taught me that I do have worth.  They believed in me for who I was and the abilities they saw within me.  This is true even if they have been scattered across the far-reaches of the state and left me behind.  After all, it was a time out of time, a stolen season of our lives.  I only hope in the depths of my heart that I gave them some of the same.

It makes it even more poignant that not only did the coffee shop, aka Grizzly Peak Roasting Company, close down after we all moved away, but the city eventually tore down the building entirely and put up a brand spankin' new building that bears little resemblance to the original building.  So, all the memories stored up in place, the graffiti we scribed in some places, for example, are lost to time and stored up in the recesses of our memory. (I may have some actual pictures stored somewhere too.)

But the lessons learned, as I mentioned above, still live within me today and for always.  The magic of that season of my life lives on inside me and for always.  Nothing has equaled it since, nor ever will.  Although recent events have come close, they still vastly differ.

Recently, I went hiking, well, I am a dog-walker so its a common occurrence.  But, this particular day stood out to me.  It reminded me of all the hikes I took with my Grizz boys, the ones where we would break from the trail and just climb, sometimes on ground that was not stable, we'd just climb and explore.  I always put some form of trust in them to keep me safe on those adventures and to guide me home.  On this recent hike, I went by myself, with the two dogs, and like those hikes of old we climbed and followed some form of animal trail as far as we wanted to go.  When I reached the end of that trail, I came upon a country road, then looking around I wondered how I was to get back.  I started back down another trail, with the dogs, and kept walking, somewhat fearfully because I wasn't sure where I was going.  I thought of my Grizz boys, the fun times we had while hiking, the good and not so good memories, the trust I had in them.  And, then something happened.  I made my way out of the woods and back to a place where I could find my way back from whence I came.

This was an amazing moment.  I had done it myself.  I could finally trust in myself to make my own way.  Without my Grizz boys, showing me the way and showing me how back in the day, I would never have learned that I had the strength inside myself to find my own way out of the woods, my own way in the world.

And, thus I did.  And, for this, I thank them.

Now, in a figurative sense, I'm making my own way in the climb of life.  I recently launched a production company, known as Cafe-Girl Productions.  And, once again, I have my Grizz boys to thank for that.  Not only because my time hanging out with them at the cafe helped shape my identity as the Cafe Girl, but because it is because of their belief in the fluidity and spontaneity of life, the belief in the ability of self to endure and keep at it, that I can move forward with all of my endeavors.

And, thus I do.  And, for this, I thank them.

Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

Cafe-Girl: A Novella

The morning of their first date was exceptionally warm for that mid-November day. Deborah stretched in her bed and stared happily up at the ceiling, the rush of the exhilaration of new love coursing through her veins. She knew the cautionary warnings of her Christian friends, who would tell her that because of his spiritual beliefs he was not worthy enough, nay, capable of a loving relationship. But, the infatuation she felt for him outweighed any dire warnings from any external source. Her heart soared with the expectancy of new love and relationship. Years later, she would look back on this moment with fondness, the moment before anything else, any trouble seeped in. Her older self would look back with the realization that moments like those were to be treasured, that people, regardless of spiritual belief or orientation, were to be honored and cherished, that every person was brought into your life specifically for a unique reason and purpose, that every person could teach you something different than others. But, at that moment, she was only excited for the day ready to unfold, she was only contemplating what to wear and how to make herself look presentable to him, to Matthew, her cute coffee-boy.

In another part of the city, Matt was waking up, with that excitement and expectancy for the pretty girl he would soon spend the day. As he gathered up his morning coffee and cigarette, and made his way to his parents' backyard (the house where he currently resided), his mind was racing with what to do to keep her interested, to impress her. He, too, was busy contemplating what to wear to appear attractive and to keep her interest. He worried that his small frame was unworthy or unattractive in her overall eyes, and that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't all too interested in him for more than a friend. It had been awhile since he'd been single and in the dating game. After all, he had only just broken it off with his girlfriend of 6 years.

Finishing his cigarette, he stumped it out, drained his coffee, and headed into the kitchen, up the stairs into his bathroom. The steam from the hot shower filled the bathroom and fogged up the mirror he sleepily stared into while he undressed. He ran his hand over his body and down over himself and thought, dreamt of her. The water fell in cascades down his body while he lathered his hair with shampoo, careful to not let it slip into his eyes. In the opposite part of the city, Deborah stood under the hot stream of water, rinsing the shampoo, also careful to keep it out of her eyes, conditioning her hair, and making the painstakingly focused attempt to remove hair from her legs and under-arms.

Finally, dressed, her in black stretch pants and a black top, with her black wool coat, scarf, and hat, and him in his warm flannel coat, his orange shirt, and his nicest pair of pants, they made their way down town towards the coffee shop. As they stepped out into the world and began their brisk walk, the warm air brought a cool sweat to their faces and before they had gotten very far, they each carried their jacket, hat, scarf in one hand, letting the Fall breeze cool their faces. Before she rounded the corner to the coffee shop, Deborah pulled out a compact to examine her make-up, make sure she wasn't glistening with sweat, and hoping that there wasn't too much of the under-arm stink. She made the corner and started her descent towards the coffee shop, and there he was, her coffee-boy, sitting on the small patio table, across from oh, that scary dark boy, waiting for her. In a sense, they both waited, she would remember, years from then. Both of them waiting for her, sitting at the coffee shop, watching as she approached, an image burned in her memory, a time of innocence, a stolen season of her life.

Matthew got up and came down to her. A broad smile stretching further and further across her face as she approached. She felt a smile break forth across her face in response as her heart beat loudly (could he hear it?) inside of her.

“All set,” he said when she had reached him. “Do you need anything? Coffee?”

“Well, I don't have any cash on me,” she began. He shook his head and said, “I've got it.”

And, into the coffee shop, he went and a few minutes later, he emerged with a medium size go-cup filled with coffee.

“Cream okay, I hope,” he said, as he handed it to her with a flourish. She nodded and took a sip, smiling at him over the brim.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “What do I owe you?”

“On the house,” he smiled down at her, wanting desperately to taste the coffee on her lips.

“Well,” she began. “It pays to know the coffee boy.”

“We prefer barista,” Matthew informed her.

“Barista, I will remember that,” she smiled up at him. “But I prefer coffee-boy, rather, cute-coffee boy. Even more, I prefer, Matthew the cute-coffee-boy.”

Matthew laughed and reached for her hand, waving at James, who merely looked at them, not really awake and seemed gloomy as he watched them ascend up the hill.

“Where are we off to?” Deborah wanted to know, as she took his hand and allowed herself to be led. Her insides twinged with his touch as they walked hand in hand. Yippee, she thought and her nether regions felt squishy with the delight. Her Christian friends would call that lust and would warn against those feelings, they aren't love they would say, nor lasting. Actually, it was her ex-boyfriend who would rail on and on about the dangers of sex outside of marriage, lust, and sin keeping her away from God. She wasn't sure about that and at that moment she only had eyes for Matthew.

“Hiking,” he smiled as he spoke, walking with a cute bounce in each step that Deborah loved and would remember for years to come. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Deborah breathed, beaming up at him. And, deep down, she heard the word “eternally” as her answer to him and wondered about that response, before excusing it and shaking it off. How could that be anywhere connected to a first date?

They made their way through the park, so wrapped up in each other they ignored the passing, chatting and idle tourists along the way. Their hands clung harder to each other and Deborah found the coffee spill slightly on her hands, burning her.

“Ouch,” she responded and he looked back at her, noticing, he took the coffee in his other hand. “Ah, a gentleman!”

He nodded at her, sipped the coffee, and they kept walking.

Pretty soon, the tourists chatter melted away as Matthew and Deborah disappeared deeper into the park. After a steep ascent, he brought her into the rambling bushes surrounding a secluded stream. Then, he catapulted himself across the river, bouncing from stone to stone, and landing upon a larger rock that jutted far out of the water. Deborah followed him, tentatively taking the same stones he had. He held out his hand and she climbed atop, sitting next to him. They sat side by side and perused their surroundings, heard the quiet rush of the water streaming around and beneath them, the gentle sway of the breeze, the calling of the birds amongst the trees, and together they breathed deep.

“I think this is my favorite place,” he said at last.

“Yeah, thank you for taking me here, then,” Deborah said as well. He took her hand in hers and they enjoyed that moment in connection.

“So, what have you got going on tonight?” Matthew asked at last, breaking the silence and secretly  wanting to know how long he had her.

“Oh, god, I think my friends want me to go to church with them,” she responded, a little ashamed.

“Church? You into that?” Matthew wanted to know.

“I am not sure, they seem nice, the people who go there, its pretty laid back, I guess, my ex and I used to go but...”

“But?”

“Well, everyone there is so focused on one thing, like this one girl is all about getting married and finding the right guy, and if he's not Christian, then woah,” Deborah rambled without thinking.

“God, what's wrong with not being Christian?” Matthew scoffed.

“Yeah, I don't know, but they think that you can't really have a real loving relationship if they aren't Christian, so,” Deborah tried to explain.

“Well, what do you think?” Matthew asked, hopefully.

“Trying to figure that one out,” was all Deborah would give.

“Well, aren't you allowed to love who you want to love?” Matthew asked furtively and somewhat demandingly. “Isn't that what God is all about? Love? Unconditional love? And, not judging?”

“Yeah,” Deborah sat in silence for a moment and then cocked her head and looked at him, “You mean me? I'm allowed to love who I want to love?”

“Well, yeah, but everyone too,” he said, looking deeply at her.

“I hope you are right,” was all she could say, looking right back at him and into him. They sat in silence and took each other in, let the world around them slip away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4uD6o9XxLs

I'm Considering Jill Stein 'Cuz Bernie Endorsed Hillary

Now, before you get your panties in a bunch, or call me a Bernie deserter or "ridiculous" like Sarah Silverman thinks, read to the end of this blog.

I stand behind Bernie.  I am a Bernie or Bust person not because I am #neverhillary or because I want a Trump presidency.  (Let's be honest, no one but airheads and idiots really want that.)  No, I'm considering casting my vote for Ms. Stein (and mind you, I've already switched to Green Party) because of the reasons Bernie endorsed Hillary, so that he could ensure that the issues he stands for, the revolution he began, continues forth.

By standing strong in these issues, Bernie takes the focus off him, try as he might, and continues the revolution, #wethepeople, style.  In the end, he holds Hillary accountable for all the reform and change, the issues he stands for, for a truly greater America, as he endorses her candidacy.  In order to garner the support of his supporters, she has to agree to these requirements.

So, by endorsing Hillary, Bernie speaks his mind, he stays true to his values, his cause all along.  The Revolution continues forth unabated, with or without him.  As we felt the "Bern" with him, he stokes the fire for us to continue that "burn".

And, that is why I am moving towards Jill Stein.  Because I see that one of Bernie's focus is to change the democratic process from a two-party system.  Because as Bernie continues to speak his mind, let his voice be heard, and to champion for the causes that will benefit the American people, I believe and desire for my voice to be heard, to truly speak my mind, and cast my vote based on my conscience, my ethics, my morals, my truths.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLMDLjAVarQ

Whether your candidate is Bernie, Jill Stein, or Hillary, or even Trump, or anyone else who ran for office, it was never about the name or the person.  We are in a time of turmoil and upheaval, of change and revival, Bernie Sanders fueled that fire and we felt that fire, and as he continues to speak, to share, he stokes that fire for us to continue to fan the flames of revolution.  

Let's continue to "Feel the Bern" and fight for our country!  

Cafe-Girl: A Novella

Deborah sat at the table in the restaurant surrounded by her best friend, Mari, across from her and her ex-boyfriend, Brent, who wouldn't leave her alone, by her side. They both bowed their heads and prayed before eating their nachos and cokes. Deborah closed her eyes and patiently waited for them to finish. Once they had opened their eyes, Mari looked straight across at them and asked in a straightforward, inquisitive fashion all her own,

“Are you guys gonna get married?”

At once, Deborah answered “No” while Brent answered “Yes.” There was a long awkward pause as Brent glared over at Deborah who cowered into her coca-cola. Mari looked back and forth between them, apologetically and a bit ashamed for bringing it up. The rest of the meal was spent in silence as they hurriedly ate their meal, unsure of what to say. Off and on, Brent would question her whether she had started up a relationship with that 'coffee boy', the non-christian sinner who worked at the coffee shop she was now frequenting. Deborah again and again said no, which was true, but denied even liking him, even as she reached into her purse and felt over and over to make sure her cell-phone was on and turned up so she could hear any incoming calls. It had been a whole day since she had given him her phone number but that seemed like an eternity to her. Notably, more out of embarrassment and shyness than any kind of flirtatious ploy, she had not ventured down to the coffee shop that day.

They finished their meal and made their way to her car, where Mari piled in the backseat and Brent in the passenger seat. Deborah drove Mari back to her house in the outskirts of town. Brent berated her all the way, about her spiritual walk with Jesus (what?), her duty to him after three years of relationship (even though she had broken it off last summer), and questioned her repeatedly whether she liked this coffee boy (she continuously denied even as she pined for Matt's phone call).

At Mari's house, they quickly hurried back to her bedroom, saying a quick hello to Mari's room-mate and her children. Mari asked Brent for a massage, and as she laid on the bed, he climbed on top of her to comply, Brent continuing his barrage of insults towards Deborah in hopes she would comply to his wishes of marriage.

When the massage had ended, Deborah's phone rang. She looked down and recognized the unknown caller from earlier that day. Her heart quickened, could it in fact be him? If so, she'd have to ask him why he didn't...Brent tried to snatch the phone from her hand, she held it firm.

“Is that him?” he spat out.

“Uh, no, no,” she responded quickly.

“Let me talk to him,” came Mari's insistent comment, seemingly from far off. Deborah shook her hand and demanded, “no,” sticking her phone deep down in her pocket.

“Let's get you home, Brent,” was all she said and Mari ushered them out the door.

They parked on the hill down the street from Brent's house. The dark of the night emptied itself around her car, shrouded them in secrecy.

“Please, Deborah, tell me,” he insisted in his best seductive whisper. “Do you like him?”

Deborah shook her head, tears springing to her eyes, fighting them back.

“Do you still love me?” he wanted to know again. Deborah stared straight ahead, not sure of how to answer. “Please answer me,” he insisted.

“I need to get home,” was all she could say. “Early day tomorrow.”

“You are going to call him back, aren't you?” Brent demanded.

“I don't know, Brent, I don't know, okay?” was all she could say, hoping he would get out of the car and leave so she could at last be done with him.

“Well, what are you doing tomorrow?” Brent wanted to know, a tinge of hope springing in his heart.

“What?” Deborah seemed confused and then, “Oh, I don't know...”

“You said you had an early day tomorrow,” Brent started. “You going down to the cafe?”

“Oh, no, I, uh, um, have stuff to do around the house, before work next week,” came Deborah's fumbled reply.

“Yeah, okay,” Brent said, grabbing the door handle. “I'll call you.”

He opened the door and let it slam behind him, moving up the steep hill to his house. Deborah started the engine and let the car drift down the hill, slowly making her way home, breathing a sigh of relief. She'd avoided that catastrophe at least for tonight.

At her house, she walked quietly into the back bedroom she rented from the couple upstairs. Sitting on her bed, she pulled out her phone and kicking off her shoes and pulling her legs up on her bed, she pressed “call back” on the number that had called a few hours earlier.

“Hello?” came the familiar warm and friendly voice of her cute coffee boy.

“Hi,” Deborah said, a smile on her face and in her voice.

“Oh, hello there,” he breathed a smile of his own. “How are you?”

“Doing well, yourself?” she really wanted to know.

“All right,” he said. “Doing better now.”

Deborah smiled into the phone. She propped up a pillow, and flipped on the lamp by her bed, then got up and turned off the overhead light in the room. Pressing the phone against the ear, she simultaneously pulled her pants off, letting them fall to the floor and asked,

“So what did you do today?”

“Had to work a double shift,” came Matthew's reply. “Barbara called in sick.”

“Barbara?”

“The girl that works at the cafe,” Matthew explained. “The only one left besides me, although I think Randy is thinking of re-hiring Thomas, at least part time.”

“Thomas?”

“One of my friends, hangs out with me at the cafe, used to work there before me,” Matthew explained. “Sorry about all the confusion and Randy is the owner.”

“Oh I see,” Deborah was thinking. “Is Thomas the one that always wears a tie or...?”

“Yeah,” Matthew laughed. “Except he doesn't ALWAYS wear a tie, only for work. But nice description, I'll tell him you said that.”

They both laughed.

“So tell me about your other, um, friends,” Deborah continued the conversation.

“From the cafe?” Matthew wanted clarification and confirmation.

“Yeah, them,” was all Deborah confirmed.

“Well, there is Shaggy, knew him in high school, James, who I just met, and Ray, and you know Thomas,” Matthew began. “That's pretty much the regulars although there are a few more that come by from time to time.”

“Okay, so which is which?” Deborah asked. “And Shaggy?”

Matthew laughed and began to explain.

“Yeah, Shaggy is the one that looks like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo,” Matthew said. “When you come in tomorrow, you'll notice him, can't miss him. Crazy hippie conspiracy theorist probably at the computer!”

“Oh, so I'm coming in tomorrow, huh?” Deborah teased.

“Well, I hope so,” Matthew admitted.

“Okay then,” Deborah agreed. “So, then there is, um, Ray, and, um, James and they are--”

“Okay, James is the one that always wears all black and Ray is, well, Ray is the other one,” Matthew explained.

“Okay, I got it, I think,” Deborah said. “So, I've got another question for you.”

“So many questions!”

“Sorry,” Deborah relented.

“No, its okay, I just have a few for you, that's all,” Matthew explained. “Go ahead.”

“I got this phone call yesterday after I left the cafe, from an unknown number, but I think it was yours,” Deborah awkwardly began.

“Yeah, you know, I saw a number had been dialed out from my phone,” Matthew quickly interjected. “I don't know what that was about, I mean, maybe it was a butt dial or maybe one of my friends was playing a practical joke or something. Sorry about that.”

“Its okay,” Deborah. “It was just a little weird, I guess.”

“Yea, sorry,” Matthew apologized again.

“Don't worry about it, its fine,” she said again. “So, what are your questions? What do you want to know?”

“Um, let's see I know you just graduated college, so you are one of those transplant types,” Matthew began and then awkwardly sputtered out, “You seeing anyone?”

“Well, not right now, I'm alone in my room,” Deborah joked. Then, she explained, “Not anymore, I was but we broke up last summer. It's totally over.”

And, that was all the information she would give to him about Brent. He didn't need to know anything more about Brent, as far as Deborah was concerned, no matter what Brent wanted or thought, they were over.

“Yeah, okay, good,” Matthew was relieved. “So, where are you from?”

“Well, I grew up in California but I don't like to admit that,” Deborah laughed into the phone. Matthew joined her. The joke around town was how much the townies and the locals hated Californians, the yuppies that moved into the town and took over completely.

“Well, I won't hold it against you,” Matthew reassured her.

“But you will hold yourself against me,” Deborah inwardly cringed at her forwardness and Matthew laughed,

“If you insist,” he smiled into the phone. “So, you coming into the coffee shop tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I can do that, what time?”

“Well, I'm not working tomorrow,” he began. “So, I thought we could meet and then go for a walk or something, maybe.”

“I'd like that,” Deborah said excitedly.

“How about we meet around 10:30?” he asked hopefully.

“Sounds perfect,” she agreed.

The Story of My Life

Cafe-Girl: A Novella

Deborah placed her cell phone smack dab in the center of her unmade bed. She stared down at it, willing it to ring, and when nothing happened she flipped it over, disgruntled and sat heavily upon the floor of her rented bedroom. She leaned against the bed and hung her head. Her go-cup coffee that she had purchased from Matt just a half an hour before, but which seemed like millions of eons ago, sat dejectedly on her chest of drawers, getting cold. She stared at it, willing it to float over towards her, so she wouldn't have to rise from her slumped position, depression stretching inward upon her like a familiar yet unkind friend.

Suddenly, the phone rang. She leaped up, almost as if her whole body rose into the air, and reached for it. The number was unknown, as in not listed in her friends, but the area code was familiar. Her heart raced as she pressed the button to answer.

“Hello?” she called out. “Hello? Hello?”

But, no answer came. “Is anyone there? Who is this?” she implored more forcefully, with a little bit of spice. “Stop clogging up my phone by calling and calling!” And, she hung up with a ferocity and threw the phone across the room, it ricocheted off the dresser, knocking the coffee cup over, and fell to the floor as the cappuccino liquid slipped down her dresser to the carpet below waiting to be stained Was this a sign of something? Some signal, a truth, of things to come, of her pouring her life and heart away on some guy who would not come through yet again. She sighed and moved to right the coffee cup and begin the process of soaking up the liquid before it stained, wiping the drips off the dresser. It was probably just her crazy ex-boyfriend after all. God! She groaned. Won't he ever ever leave her alone?

In the coffee shop, Matt, however, was not trying to avoid calling her or laughing over her goof of thinking his flirtations were anything more than a barista trying to garner some tips, but was being simultaneously distracted by the conspiracy ravings of Shaggy, the mixed rants of conspiracy and crazy ex of James, and Ray's urging that once he get off work they go get some beer and begin their version of “church”, rather where they all hike as far as they can go into the surrounding mountains, sip their 40s, smoke joints, and sort of meditate, sort of explore where ever they are led. Inwardly, he was hoping for one moment of peace between all this to call Deborah, to hear her sweet voice, hear her laughing jokes echoing his back to him with mirth and merriment.

“9-11 was an inside job,” Shaggy was exclaiming. “Bush and the CIA, Daddy Bush, planned the whole thing in order to make the masses feel fear and vulnerable, in order to keep us under their control--

“My ex made me feel vulnerable,” James mumbled and when they all swung around to look at him, he added, “She was a crazy bitch, slept with everyone in town, right?”

They nodded. They'd heard the story what seemed like a thousand times a day it seemed. Sometimes James seemed like a broken record, begging for anyone to listen, to feel some sort of pity for him. Matt wondered about him, sometimes. He himself had left a crazy ex that had in fact cheated on him numerous times but recently he had found peace with her and moved on. And, James it seemed, after discovering the likeness of his story with Matt's, wouldn't let it go. Matt wondered why but couldn't ascertain the answer to that question. He shook it off yet again, hoping James would find the peace and answers on his own someday.

Ray was pulling at his shirtsleeves, metaphorically, like an anxious young child, wanting to know “are we there yet? are we there yet?” Matt looked at his funny friend, long straggly reddish-auburn hair, gnatted with dreads scattered about the threads of his hair, a nose red and large from too much of the drink, a frail build from living the hard life, too many drugs, not enough good food, a ski-cap propped upon the top of his head, and grinned at Ray.

“Hey, Ray,” Matt began. “Has anyone ever told you, you kind of look like a lawn gnome?”

Shaggy and James looked over at their friend, Ray and nodded, laughing.

“Yeah, you do,” joined in Shaggy. “But you are tall so like, king of the lawn gnomes!”

They all laughed mirthfully.

“King of the lawn gnomes!” They all cheered and the three of them bowed to Ray, who extended his hand in deference and approval. It was right then that Barbara, the remaining new girl, walked up and stared confusedly at their actions before her.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed. “What the hell is going on?”

“What the hell does he look like?” exclaimed James right back, and Matt cringed. Sometimes James seemed harsh to women, he didn't know why.

“Um, Ray,” Barbara said, slightly wincing and moving towards the door. Matt leaned into her and whispered in her ear, 'Lawn gnome', she turned back and looked Ray over.

“Oh my god, yeah,” she laughed.

“He's the king of the lawn gnomes,” explained Shaggy.

“Bow down!” commanded Ray and Barbara gave him a little curtsy. She hurried into the coffee shop to begin her shift and Matt followed her to officially clock out.

“Not to busy today?” Barbara asked, turning to him, with a smile. He smiled back, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn't too attracted to this girl, she was a little on the plump side and a little too pushy when it came to the area of love for his taste, always trying mostly unsuccessfully to push her way into his world, his line of view.

“Nope,” he said. He grabbed his time-card out of his cubby and scribbled out the time. Placing it back, he grabbed his coat, knapsack, and hat, putting it on with a flair of a 1940s movie star, that which he was unaware of the affect he had on the opposite sex. He nodded, hat on head, pulling his jacket on, swinging his knapsack on his shoulder, and turned and walked towards the door towards his awaiting friends.

“All signed out?” asked James. He nodded. Shaggy shook his head and Matt felt an oncoming rant of conspiracy about to spew forth.

“Its just sad that the government, or the forces behind, have us so wrapped up in being a number in order to give us more meaningless numbers in a computer that we use to--”

“Yeah, we get it,” barked out Ray. “Let's get some beer before I start to puke.”

“His majesty has spoken,” said Matt, smiling somewhat apologetically at Shaggy.

They all headed off, following Ray, in a single-file to the nearby minute market.

While his team, his rag-tag friends, busied themselves with the all too important task of picking the right beers for the trek inside, Matt leaned against the outside wall and pulled out his phone and the napkin with Deborah's phone listed on it. He found it interesting that for some odd reason her number seemed to already be in his “outward” calling list, but he did not have any memory of calling her. He stared down at his phone, debating inwardly whether he should call her, whether he had the time, what his friends would think of her, if she really liked him, if she was even single. All these questions filled his mind as he stared down at the screen of his cell-phone, the number, for some reason already dialed, before him. The door of the minute market dinged open and Ray exclaimed, “Mission Accomplished!”

Matt slammed his phone shut and stuck it forcefully in his jeans pocket.

“All set?” he set to his somewhat giddy friends. They nodded. “All right, Ray, Your Majesty, lead the way!”

The hike wound them up farther and farther into the forests and wilderness above the city. Matt looked back over his shoulder, over the city that he knew so well, where every corner, every alleyway echoed a memory of so many years, and thought of her, tucked away in some room, some apartment, some home, he knew not where or which, and longed for her. He wondered, he hoped, if they had a chance, if he could finally end this quest to find the one, to end the emptiness of longing for love and understanding. Would it ever end, he wondered, when would he have his happily ever after?

Life In A Coffee Shop

Cafe-Girl A Novella

The Saturday morning early winter air filtered through the half open window. Deborah stared out at the grey skies and stretched. No work today, no running around chasing little toddler kids while she wondered what she really wanted to do with her life. Maybe instead she will have time to catch up on her reading, her writing...maybe head to a certain coffee shop and see...him.

It had been a few weeks since their meeting, she'd popped into see him but the shop had been busy, in flux of last minute tourists riding on the coat-tails of the ending season, seeing the final theatre shows and buying up the last minute touristy store items. Deborah was so glad she was no longer working at that boutique down-town.

Yes, Matt had been busy lately. One of the new girls had recently up and quit and he was left filling in the gaps. When he wasn't busy, he was sitting outside on the small patio, crowded together with a wide assortment of his guy friends, a guy who always wore a suit, an older hippie man, a tall lanky fellow with dark floppy hair, and the one who always wore black and hunched over his coffee, brooding, seemingly. Deborah always wanted to join them, wasn't sure what to say, but she'd always wanted to be one of those sorts people who hung out at coffee shops, the edgy sort. The kind that sat and stared at their dark coffee, talking about all sorts of dark things, intellectual things, and the like. There was that one brooding dark guy that sat on the porch with Matt and his friends, she was both afraid of him and intrigued by him. She was also nervous to join them all on the patio because she was still not sure if Matt liked her, although she suspected she did, knew she did. That was pretty clear to her now. But, what if he didn't feel the same but saw her as another nice customer or something? How did this thing work? She could never figure out the dating game, as it were.

Having recently gotten out of an extremely bad three year relationship, Deborah was still reeling from the after effects. Could she trust another guy? Could she trust herself to fall in love again? Did she even want to? Her best friend, Mari, who was a devout Christian was adamantly husband hunting. They had to find husbands, in fact, that was the sole purpose of looking for a man, to bed him and wed him. Well, maybe not the bedding part according to Mari, however, Deborah knew that Mari was not a virgin, rather a self proclaimed born again virgin, born again and again and again and again...

Mari had taken Deborah to church a few times. She wasn't sure what she thought of all of that. Mari had taken her under the rouse that she needed to find the Lord, although Mari didn't out and out say that, but Deborah could tell. She also watched as Mari anxiously flirted with all the young eligible bachelors at the church, even there devout in her sole purpose to marry, no other goal in sight. Deborah thought that the church setting was almost as bad as the nightclub setting, just couched in some form of a Christian safety net.

If everyone in the whole world, just in different circles, was telling her how to date, how to fall in love, who to date, who to fall in love with, and how, when, who to marry, then why was she still confused? Why hadn't any of it worked yet? Maybe that was really the point of it. Love was undefinable, unexplainable, it existed but was elusive at times, and always uncontrollable.

She pulled her journal out of her near by backpack, a pen tucked inside from where she had stopped writing the night before, and started pouring out these thoughts on the paper. She wrote and wrote feverishly pouring out every last drop of concern, worry, even desire...until her soul felt satisfied and she threw down the pen to get ready...ready to make her way to the coffee shop.

At the coffee shop, Matt stood on the patio, alone at present, smoking a cigarette and sipping his third espresso of the day, looking anxiously up the street, waiting, hoping that she would come. His friend, Stephan, already dressed in his suit for work, approached.

“Waiting for something, Matt?” Stephan asked.

“Not really,” Matt shook himself. “Get you something? The usual?”

“Yeah, to go please,” Stephan went on. “I've got to get to work.”

They both moved into the coffee shop. There was a smattering of customers sitting about the various tables, engrossed in their lives, one was reading a book, the other the paper, and one was just staring dumbly out the window, lost in thought. Matt handed Thomas his steamy black cup of coffee in a go-cup and Thomas laid three dollars on the counter. Matt snatched it up, ran it through the cash register, and handed Thomas his change, which he tossed into the tip jar.

“Thanks, man,” Matt said. Thomas shook it off and moved over to pour some cream into the cup.

“Got to cool it down,” he explained, without reason.

“Yeah, of course,” and Matt started to move out to the patio, following his friend, but a new customer entered the store. She asked for a frapacino and Matthew inwardly groaned and Thomas said,

“Yeah, you want Starbucks up the street!”

“Oh, thanks,” she said and turned, quickly leaving. Matt and Thomas looked at each and rolled their eyes.

“Tourists,” Thomas said.

“Right,” Matt agreed and they headed out on the patio. Matt sat down at the table while Thomas waved and headed for his day at work, just beginning. Matt had only a few hours left before the one remaining girl started her shift. His best friend, aptly known as Shaggy because he greatly resembled the cartoon character rambled up, followed by the coffee shop's very own old man hippie, Ray.

“Hey guys,” he said in greeting and he put down his still unlit cigarette and followed them into the coffee shop, with his cup to get a refill as well.

A few minutes later, he saw his friend, James, the new guy in the group, heading down the street towards the coffee shop. His long black hair falling over his face and his eyes dark. His black clothes and long trench coats were not the only thing that gave Matt the willies, actually he couldn't put his finger on what it was about James that seemed odd. I mean, all his friends were a bit off so he really didn't pay much attention to it. He knew James had just recently divorced his wife, James talked about it and how crazy his ex was a lot. A lot more than Matt did and he too had recently gotten the dump.

James entered the coffee shop and he passed out the morning cup of joe and muffins to each of his friends. James headed quickly out to the patio and sat in the chair Matt had recently vacated, facing the street. Ray and Shaggy lingered around the counter with the milk before Shaggy headed over to the computer.

“I found something online last night,” Shaggy explained, calling up the internet. “Something very suspicious, wanted to show you guys. That okay?”

Matt looked over at his friend. This conspiracy theory fascination was new and not how he had been since high school. So too was his express desire to be known only as Shaggy, 'the better to hide from the government', he had explained. Matt worried about his friend and truly hoped this was a passing fancy.

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said and came around to stand behind Shaggy at the computer. Ray stood on his other side and both leaned over to see the web-page detailing some crazy government cover-up Shaggy was so convinced was real.

Meanwhile, Deborah, adorned in European style clothes complete with black pea coat and warm scarf, neared the coffee shop. On the patio, she saw James sitting alone and she hesitated at the steps to the coffee shop.

She looked up at him, biting her lip, in anxiety and intrigue, and said, “Hi.”

“Hello,” was all he said. And, then Deborah quickly passed into the coffee shop to find Matt huddled over the computer with his other friends, engrossed in some website or something.

“Hi, can I get some service here?” She called out, laughingly.

Matt turned and looked over at her. A big smile spread across his face and he headed towards her, happily, bouncing in his familiar walk. And, he hugged her. Surprised, she put her arms around him. They awkwardly pulled away from each other, somewhat reluctantly.

“How are you?” Matt asked, looking at his feet. “Another cappuccino?”

“Yeah, I'd love one,” she smiled. “And I'll even pay.”

Matt moved behind the counter and started making her drink. She pulled five dollars out of her wallet and waited.

“So, how have you been?” she wanted to know.

“Eh, didn't sleep well last night,” was all Matt said while he concentrated.

“Yeah, sorry to hear that,” Deborah was really concerned.

“Not really been sleeping the last few nights, actually,” he explained. “Stupid insomnia.”

Deborah cocked her head to one side and thought. Her mind raced as an idea sprang into her head. Should she or shouldn't she? Meanwhile, Matt finished her cappuccino and set it on the counter before her. She handed him the five and he rang up the amount in the cash register. She moved over, grabbing a napkin from the counter with the milk, and before she lost her nerve, jotted down her name and phone number on it. She moved over to him and as he handed her his change she said, nervously,

“Here's my phone number, if you want to call me when you can't sleep,” she said and held out the napkin to her. He smiled down at her and handed her the change. She took the change and smiled her good-bye and left, passing the patio with now three of his friends, the old hippie one, the tall lanky guy, and the scary dark boy.

A few minutes after she left, Matt crossed down to the patio, with his refilled mug in hand. Still holding the napkin, he held it up to his friends.

“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 walked down the street, grinning broadly. She had done it and now she waited to see if he actually called. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it, as if he would call right then and there. She knew she had to wait, he was at work and who knew what he was doing after work, what he had to do, or if...she gasped...what if he already had a girlfriend or liked someone else? Her heart broke a little inside, shame spread over her face. What if she just made a complete and utter fool of herself. She could never ever go back to that coffee shop, never. She couldn't face him or his friends. A pang of disappointment consumed her as she made her way home.

Love's Recovery

Cafe-Girl: A Novella

The misty rain poured hard upon Matthew as he left his house that early morning for the coffee shop. It wasn't a hard soaking rain but a gently falling mist that would still leave his clothes dew-drenched and damp upon reaching his destination and perhaps through the whole morning. He pulled his wool grey beret down over his ears and pulled his sweater down around his hands, then set off on his bouncy walk towards his place of work, his knapsack swinging by his side.

Today felt like any other morning in the last year, the weather may change from the blaring hot sun of summer to the many colored leaf-strewn pavement of the Fall to the misty wetness of early winter, that he had been working at the coffee shop. Every day the same, really, because most of the time he was the opener of the small coffee shop that resided on a side-street down the street from the main drag of his small town, the town of which he had grown up. Most of the other small staff, the two new girls that were recent hired, were not amicable to working the morning shift so off he went to do the usual day, the setting up of the tables and chairs, the baking of the muffins which were such a major draw to his regulars, roasting the coffee, etc etc etc. The music on the CD player always skipped and he'd spend most of the morning jumping to get it unstuck. Maybe that wasn't the best idea for the CDs, since there was such a limited variety, but he was so tired of having to dust them off, clean them, etc etc etc. Sometimes he put on the local NPR station, but usually once the customers came in, they found that distracting.

When he reached the coffee shop, he unlocked the backdoor with a reluctant sigh, stamping out his cigarette in the sand-bucket provided on the back step for employees that smoked, well, just him. He was grateful for the newly hired new girls, not just because they were cute, but because he didn't have to pull so many double shifts, him and his boss, Tom, sometimes the only two faithful devotees to the Soul Cafe besides the smattering few customers who came daily, his friends.

He gazed around at the small one room cafe, a charm singular to a few folks. A few of the “hippie” folk, more obscure than those “hippies” who frequented Garo's, the main street alternative-style coffee shop. These were his friends, he'd grown up with the majority of them, and they had a style all their own, a way of looking at life understood by the main population, of which they all provided themselves upon.

As he gazed around at the tiny coffee shop, the tables in various places, a few by the windows, a few lined up against the walls, a computer, a bookshelf, the bar where the cream was kept, the refrigerator for the other drinks for non-coffee drinkers, the counter, (his home base while at work), and the fireplace. He sighed. Another added job for today was starting a fire in there, the day was just cool enough. He sighed, removing his sweater and beret, to reveal his curly short red hair and shaking the dew off, he moved into the kitchen, hanging his coat and hat in the provided employee location. Now, to start the muffins.

Maybe today, he thought, maybe today something extraordinary will happen, well, at least out of the ordinary.

The morning dragged on. A few customers came in, two ordered and left, one walked in, looked around, asked if they made 'frappacinos', to which he sarcastically replied with a smile, “You want Starbucks up the street.” Off the went! Usually he could spot those types before they even entered the coffee shop and he would use his Jedi mind tricks, waving his hand a la Obiwan and saying “this is not the coffee shop you are looking for”, and then they'd abruptly turn even before opening the door. There is power in the barista!

He leaned against the wall behind the counter, staring straight ahead, waiting....waiting....for what? His shift to end, another customer, his friends to get their lazy asses out of their bed and come amuse him. Chopin played on in the background. What he did not expect, then happened.

She walked in. She wasn't really anything unusual or even special at the time. Lots of cute girls came in, but there was something that stood out to him about her, specifically. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but nevertheless he felt a draw towards her. She approached the counter and looked at him, yes, really looked. Her eyes, full of warmth and acceptance, looked into his and she smiled. He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. This wasn't so unusual, if anyone else was around to see him, he often flirted with the female customers, of all ages, well almost, because...yeah, better tips!

“Um, hi,” the girl said at last, with a nervous giggle in her throat.

“Hey there,” he smiled back. “What can I do for you?”

This was his usual request when a pretty girl approached the counter, as opposed to the male customers, “What can I get for you?”

The girl smiled up at him, her dark shoulder-length hair falling over her face. She pushed it back and looked at him, biting her lip, nervously.

“I'd like...a...pound of coffee or something,” she breathed out.

“A pound of coffee or something?” he asked furtively.

“Well, its a birthday present for my room-mate, she likes coffee, not me,” the girl explained.

“Oh, we'll have to remedy that,” Matthew smiled. “What does she like, dark or medium?”

“Excuse me?”

“Its the style of roast,” Matthew explained slowly.

“What do you like?” She asked, her eyes gazing up at him, imploringly. Ah, there it was, the draw towards her pulling him stronger and perhaps his first in, help the damsel in distress as it were.

“Oh, I'm partial to the Moka Java myself,” he said flirtatiously.

“I'll have a pound of that then,” she flirted back. He turned to pour the coffee beans into the brown paper bag. He looked at her over his glasses, waiting, and then he finally said,

“So, what's your name?”

“Oh, sorry, I'm Deborah,” she responded quickly. “And you?”

“Matt,” he smiled at her.

“Hello Matt,” she said with a delicious smile tossed his way. He smiled back and set the coffee bean bag on the counter before her. “How much?”

He looked at her, confused for a moment, and then realized she was referring to the bag. So pulled towards her, he had momentarily forgotten everything around him. Maybe he was just horny, it had been awhile after all, but no...there was something more about this girl.

“It's 12.99,” he replied. “You get a free 12 oz cup of coffee with that, if you'd like.”

“I don't know, I am not really a coffee person, I don't really partake,” she began.

“We'll have to change that, as I said,” he interjected.

“Is that part of your evil plan to take over the world? Convert the world to coffee?”

“I am a barista after all,” he smiled down at her. She bit her lip again under the weight of his stare and he so wanted to kiss those pink lips.

“Oh, I get it, like a drug pusher or something, only legal?” she continued the thread.

“Something like that,” he threw back at her. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, the coffee, you want it?” he asked.

“Well, I'm not much of a coffee drinker, as I said, too bitter, well I used to be, I spent a semester abroad in Italy and they KNOW coffee, but then when I came back it really didn't measure up so I gave it up, you know,” she rambled on in an unnecessary explanation.

“Yeah, well I aim to show you American coffee can be good,” he said flirtatiously.

“Or at least American baristas!” she blurted out.

“What?” he asked surprised. She blushed under his gaze and looked away. Quickly he said, “You know what? I'll make you a cappuccino, on the house, all right? It will be a good introduction.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, still not meeting his gaze, her face still red. She laid a twenty dollar bill on the counter and waited while he made the drink.

“So, you are a student?” he asked, really wanting to know.

“Just graduated, actually, you?”

“No, not really, I mean, a student of life, I guess,” he stumbled out, fumbling with the cash register he'd used a million times but now in his embarrassment for his lack of a life against her accomplishments he seemed to forget. His loss loomed up in front of him, what could she possibly want with him?

“That's awesome,” she said, and he noticed not condescendingly. “I wish I did that, so are you from around here?”

“Yeah, born and raised,” he seemed to relax with her encouragement.

“So, you are a townie?” she said excitedly. “My first townie!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he laughed and she joined him. They shared a moment. He handed her change over to her, she placed it in her wallet.

“So, now what?” she said looking at him, expectantly. What did she want? How could he keep her here a little longer?

“Taste it,” he smiled at her, motioning towards the cup on the counter. She looked down at it and placed her hands around the warm mug.

“Oh, I love the design,” she smiled up at him.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said gratefully. “Sometimes I read the fortunes in the lattes.”

“Lattes? But this isn't a latte,” she said, truthfully. “Could you still show me what it means?”

“Well, I guess just this once,” he smiled at her and moved his hand over to the mug, his fingers touching hers. “Ah, I see.”

“What?” she wanted to know as she looked at the drink, then at him, then at the drink, then back at him. “What do you see?”

“Well, its difficult to explain but I can say you are in for a real treat here,” he began. “And not just the drink, an adventure is about to begin.”

“What do I do?” she breathed out, playing along with his role-playing of the barista/fortune teller.

“I can only advise that you taste it and enjoy for all its worth,” he smiled at her, knowingly, daring her. She reached for the cup, her fingers trailing along his hand as she picked it up and he moved his hands away. She tasted, took a big sip, and then smiled up at him, happily.

“Mmmm, delicious,” she said at last.

“And, that is just the beginning,” he explained. “Keep going.”

“There's more!” she finally said, after another drink.

“Just wait and see,” he said, flirtatiously. “Just wait and see.”

“I could say the same to you,” she said, holding the mug just in front of her mouth and smiling over it. “Not too busy today.”

“Yeah, it can be slow,” he said.

“Want to join me on the deck?” she asked, biting her lip behind the mug.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he smiled. She moved towards the door and he stopped her with, “You don't mind if I smoke, do you?”

“No, no, that's fine,” she nodded and moved out of the door. He watched her set the mug down at the one patio table and sit near the window. He saw her take a deep breath and then smile expectantly, and a smile twitched at his lips. I've got an in here, he thought hopefully.

 Falling Slowly