Fling to Ring

Café Tidings

The silver bell on the top corner of the front door dinged as it swung right open. The force used to push open the door was not very strong, but just hard enough to smoothly swing it open. The woman, a dainty looking thing, nonchalantly walked in as if the world had made life easy on her. Little did she know that life happens, like an ever so slow tumbling snowball collecting the years of jealousy, oppression, and hate the world has to offer. The tall, thin woman with blonde hair and touched up make-up walked over to the counter, already pulling out the plastic card she probably used for everything. Her words rolled off her tongue like a well-practiced verse of hymn that signified that was her usual order. The barista, with eyes of panic as she knew this order wasn't going to be a simple request, smiled at the woman. A forced smile she had shown many times before in this café. I watched, as the woman threw glances back at the barista, making sure every move made to formulate her choice of beverage was wise. It was scary. The judgement passed from customer to employee, a dignified sneer that seemed a common appearance for this woman. A grunt here, a sigh there, all signs of dissatisfaction in a job well done. The drink that even looked complicated was neatly placed in front of the woman who had ordered it. Her slender figure hovered over the counter, skimming the area around her beverage for a straw. The barista, feeling nervous, quietly pulled out a straw from a small cup near the woman. She handed the straw to her while apologizing.

"I'm sorry," I could hear. The café was quiet. The woman with unforgiving eyes, grabbed the straw from the barista and walked away from the counter. Both the barista's eyes and mine followed this woman to the other end of the café, where she sat down in front of another woman. The barista sighed as she had felt a sense of accomplishment from dealing with a complicated customer. It could only be assumed that she was a new hire; an unfamiliar face in a crowd of familiar people. The woman who sat down began giggling with her counterpart. A sip from her beverage was the only thing that could have ruined her day. She spat out the creamy looking liquid into a napkin and stood up with the beverage in her hand. Making sure the sound of her heels was the only thing that could be heard as she walked across the café, she slammed her beverage down on the counter.

"I asked for almond milk and espresso with Columbian bean, bitch! Are you deaf?" Her posture, slightly bent back, was supported by her folded arms. The barista, overcome with nervousness again, was shaky as she reached her hands out to grab the cup the woman had slammed on the counter. Creamy liquid was dripping off the edge of the counter as a result from the woman's forceful act. I watched, along with everyone else in the café, as the manager emerged from the back room to help the disgruntled woman.

"Ma'am we would like to help you with your order, but please refrain from talking to our employees like that." The older man with peppered hair stood between the two women, trying to break the disturbingly quiet silence. The woman began to explain her order and how the barista had made a mistake in completing her order, although "mistake" was not the word she used. The barista stood quietly as the manager calmly talked to the woman, apologizing for the barista's mistake and trying to convince the woman to apologize for her harsh words. The woman refused. The older man, whom almost everybody in the café knew, was not the type to let injustice occur. He simply refused to help her if she decided to continue her rash behavior. The woman grunted in disapproval and stomped her foot as she did so. Coming to the conclusion that she was not going to get her way, she pulled out her card and demanded a refund. The manager agreed and told her she was welcome back if she changed her attitude.

"Just wait until my father gets a hold of you!" She grunted and turned around. Many of the customers in the café chuckled as the woman walked back to her seat. Only after five minutes was the café back to its calm atmosphere. I glanced at the woman who was snickering with her friend. Only one could tell that the two were plotting something awful. I could only hear bits and pieces of information, something along the lines of meeting after hours, revenge, and derogatory terms which could have been aimed at the barista. Only the simultaneous glances toward the barista could confirm my suspicions.

A young man entered the café, a familiar jingling lightened the mood. The sunny, dry heat that encompassed the café, was now a dark and gloomy humidity waiting to release the masses of water upon the town. Only after the young man entered the café did it start pouring down without remorse. He carried a soft yellow umbrella, unopened and dry. Looking around the café, I couldn't find another umbrella waiting to be used. How cinematic the café looked with its dim lighting, calm silence, and a wave of rain brushing against the window panes. I took a sip of my coffee, leaving its bitter taste at the back of my mouth before I swallowed. The young man wore a thin sleeve tee with a hue similar to healthy grass or perhaps it was the color of fresh pine branches, a hue of green that complemented his complexion. The soft fabric of his shirt revealed a toned frame, just tight enough to fit comfortably. He grabbed the coffee he had ordered and skimmed the café for an empty seat to his liking. Meeting his eyes with mine, I looked down at the dark substance in my mug and took another sip. Did he catch me? I stared at my drink, trying hard to focus my attention to finishing my coffee.

"If you want to." I casually said, clearing the table space of my belongings before he could sit.

"This is the only empty seat." He slowly squatted as if him sitting down would have offended me. I raised my head to quickly scan the café before confirming this seat was the only one available. It was extremely hot. I glanced at him and he glanced back at me. I had never been one to throw glances at someone. I usually ended up watching them. His face, slightly stubbly, could not have suited his style any more than it already did. Every second that passed by, it got hotter and it felt like I was suffocating. I had to leave. Making sure I grabbed all of my belongings and stuffed them into my bag as neatly as possible, I began to scoot out from under the table to leave.

"Are you leaving?" His gaze, seeming as if he was slightly interested in where I was going, caught me off guard. I was at a loss for words. His eyes had managed to capture mine, leaving me blind to what I was about to do next.