"Let's Grab Coffee Sometime" : A Short Story Regarding Perspective

Penelope

I relive the magic your presence gives way to every time you walk through those double doors. And then I shame myself for it. For having the resistance of a magnet - nonexistent. Or for crushing like a teenage girl. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just try to not equate life to that of a coming of age film. But you just have the ability to make me wonder. Not many people have been able to gift me curiosity, a feeling I grow apart from as I grow up. Yeah, but screw you for making it difficult for me to finish my statistics log. And screw you for making me want to know you. While I’m at it, screw you for making me forget the English language because I can’t find any words to say to you.

My coffee has gone cold. I ordered a flat white today. I didn’t mind cold coffee though. I don’t think you do either with your iced lattes.

You walked through the doors of the cafe just then, the bell signaling your grand entrance. You got in line behind two people. The Barista was taking orders, chirp and jubilant, tied together with a smile. Your hair reaches your shoulders and takes a golden hue, the kind of color that probably fades in the winter. Your arms are exposed, I see the faint outlines of words and shapes inscribed in your skin but I haven’t been close enough to read them yet. I want to ask you what your tattoos mean to you and when you got them and why you got them. I could run on forever. My mind jumping from one thought to the next.

I look down at the work in front of me. Intro to Statistics. I hate intro classes. People say they are the easiest but in a way they are the hardest. Developing them is the easiest. This is the crucial class - if I don’t get it here, I won’t get it at all. I look up.

What is the intro to you?

You place your order and walk away from the line and sit awfully close to me, just a table over. I’m good at talking to people, I reassure myself. That’s what I took intro to speech for. Actually no, but it’ll pass. You probably have no interest in me at all. I mean, come on. This isn’t anything serious, you just look like such an interesting person. Like you have a million stories to tell and witty remarks to throw. For all I know, you could actually be super boring.

And then I watched you get up.

And spill your coffee.

All over my work.

Owen

I spilled coffee on you. Fuck. My god what DO I DO? You just kind of sat there. You kind of were always sitting there, working on something. You always looked so concentrated. Curly black hair tied back, glasses with circled-rims framing soft features. I always had an urge to ask you what you could have been doing that captured your attention in that way. But then again, I didn’t want to break your focus. Also, there’s only so many times I can see the same person in the same coffee shop before I should introduce myself. I mean, it’s a courtesy. Right?

But now I had no choice. You were just gaping at me. Oh, please don’t do that. I’m sorry I trip over my own two feet every so often and you were the collateral damage this time. I look over my shoulder. The Barista is standing behind the counter taking orders. Do I ask her for help?

I look back at you and finally blurt out, “I’m sorry.”

You sort of stare back at me, not even looking at your papers that are drenched in coffee. The smell was a rising aroma spreading across the room. I rather enjoyed that at least. I waited for you to get mad, to start frantically waving your papers in the air and yell at me for being clumsy. But you didn’t.

Instead, you laughed.

With no other way to respond, I did too.

You then did something else. You reached a hand over and said, “Penny.”

I shook your hand, “Owen.”

My face felt hot. I felt embarrassed. “Did I mess up your work? I’m so sorry. So so sorry. I feel so bad. Really.”

“No, no. You’re good. Don’t worry. I hadn’t even started my work yet. It was a blank worksheet. And you didn’t spill on me either.” You responded. I sighed in relief.

“Oh okay. You just seem so focused all the time I thought I messed it up.” I said. And then regretted it. I revealed that I had taken notice. Dammit.

Your face lit up but you didn’t look too much into what I just said, “Yah don’t worry about it.”

I turned around to the counter to grab napkins or a rag. The Barista was staring at you and me. She nodded her head at the dripping table. “Is everything alright?”

I nodded to The Barista, “Yeah I got it. Do you have a wash rag?”

The Barista passed a rag over the counter and I went back to where you were sitting. You were now standing up. You were wearing blue jeans and a yellow hoodie, it complemented your tan skin. Yellow made you glow. You were throwing the wet papers away. I wiped the table clean and dry. You moved your things over to the table next to us, which is where my belongings were. You noticed this and put your bag back on yourself.

I quickly remarked, “Wait no, feel free to sit with me.”

You smiled, “Okay.”

I gave the rag back to the Barista, nodded a “thank you” to her, and sat back with you.

And I swear, there were about a million questions I wanted to ask.

The Barista

It was a slow day. The evenings were not as crowded as the mornings so it was okay I was the only one here during that time. I could handle taking orders and crafting drinks then. Also, it was mostly the regulars coming in at this point. Keith and Tegan sat in their corner, playing cards. No phones. A simple game. Penny was sitting, working on some paper. Owen was in line. I took notice of all these people I made small talk with on the daily. Not just because it’s part of my job, but because I liked it as well. A life to each their own. I guess we all feel safe here to some extent.

Working here when it is slow makes you start to people watch. Today was like any other day. Owen got his coffee. I took the next order. What happened differently was out of the corner of my eye I watched Owen spill his entire drink on Penny’s table.

I paused, wondering if I should do something. I definitely should do something. I finished the order and looked back over at Penny’s table. I expected to see her fuming or stressing over her papers being drenched. Instead she was laughing. And I thought quietly to myself about all the times I caught her slyly looking at Owen. And about all the times I would see Owen look at her when he left the shop. I couldn’t help but notice these things.

Owen came over to me and I asked him, “Is everything alright?”

He nodded and smiled, “Yeah I got it. Do you have a wash rag?”

I smiled back and handed him a towel. He nodded a thank you and went back to Penny’s table. I knew I should have helped out. But I also knew Owen would have asked me if it were needed. So I just laughed to myself. Some side-ways glances came to completion at last.

I felt bad when I had to close up shop.

Two hours later.

And tell them to leave.

I smiled the whole drive home.