Catching the Sun

What's Your Name?~Chapter One

I had grabbed a window seat when I first walked in. My best friend Sunny and I agreed to meet at a quaint little coffee shop/diner at the corner of Lexington and Smalls, two streets in my city. The coffee shop was named "Coffee Grind". It was started by two newly weds in the 60s and  its been family run ever since. Sammy and I always enjoyed meeting up here. Since we could basically walk.

 The history of the shop, fascinating and rich, always brought us back. During its third year (circa. 1963), the coffee shop was the meeting place for social change in Camington.  Along the taupe colored walls lay pictures and newspaper clippings of the riots and marches. Fists raised in anger, hands up with fear.  I never got tired learning about it.

I waved at Al, one of the baristas, before ordering my coffee and taking my seat.

I looked around at everyone in the shop. There were families, new love, old love, kids doing their homework, friends hanging out. I enjoyed coming up with stories for their lives.

It was a particular pastime of mine that many considered strange and sort of creepy. But I couldn't help it. I came up with fantastic and epic adventures for their lives. Anything from espionage and foiling to simply falling in love. But it was never the kind of love you would expect, it was always the type that ended in tragedy. Lost love, never found.

I was awoken from my stupor by Sunny's signature 'I'm coming in' tap. I nodded at her, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Whatchu up to?," asked Sunny as she took the seat across from me. "Are you stalking again?"

"What? No! It's not stalking. I call it sonder," I said indignantly.

"That's not a word."

"Yes, it is. The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows describes it as 'realizing that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own'," I stopped to take a breath. To illustrate my point I started pointing around the cafe . "See, those two are brothers, See these two are sisters, Those two are lovers, and these two have issues. It's not stalking, just think of it as...creative entertainment."

Sunny studied me with her brown eyes briefly then she let out an exasperated sigh. As if saying, YOU SEE WHAT I'M DEALING WITH? CUCKOO!

"You call it creative entertainment, I call it stalking. If you get caught, I'm not breaking you out of jail." She flourished her thick black hair over her milky brown shoulder as she spoke this.

I didn't answer, I was two busy looking around "Coffee Grind". With its 1960s history, it retained its 1960s charm. The wooden counter top was surrounded by six red vinyl chairs, like guards at the ready. They made their home on the black and white checkered floor that spanned the entire diner. There was an old jukebox at the corner that was continuously used by oldies and centennials alike. A boy about my age (fourteen, turning fifteen in a month) got up and went to the jukebox and inserted a coin. Moments later, the sound of Don and Juan's "What's Your Name?" could be heard blaring from the speakers. From the matching red vinyl booths I could see an elderly man urging his wife from the booth. A big grin plastered on his face, a mortified look on hers. He urged her on for a few minutes, eventually getting her to dance with him as the second verse started.

What's your name? Is it Mary or Sue?

I watched as he dipped her lower than I thought humanly possible.

What's your name? Do I stand a chance with you?

When he twirled her, the room transformed. Gone were the fashions of our era and came the dresses and shirts of the 60s. The elderly couple was no longer elderly, but rather young and handsome. Their faces were adorned with magnificent smiles and shining eyes. His arm wrapped around her waist as he dipped and twirled his wife one last time before the song ended.

What's your na-a-a-a-me? What's your na-a-a-a-a-me? What's your na-a-a-a-a-a-meeee?
Shooby pa ba daaaa!

After the music stopped everyone stood and clapped. We had grins on our faces as the couple turned toward each other and kissed.

"That was cute," remarked Sunny as we sat back down.

I nodded.

"Summer is over in two weeks. Can you believe it? In two weeks we'll be strutting down the hallways and going into classrooms as freshmen. Not the lowly eight graders we were last year." It was clear Sunny was ecstatic about starting ninth grade, I on the other hand, was dreading it.

I've been avoiding him for the last three years, hoping to outrun the promise he probably doesn't even remember. In high school, that would be difficult. We had nearly every class together. I checked.

While Sunny talked on animatedly about her high school dreams, I started day dreaming about ways to avoid him.

Please, whoever is out there. Don't ruin this year for me. I pleaded silently in my head albeit knowing I wasn't going to get an answer. Please don't let this be like fifth grade.