THE HOLITOPA TRESTLES

CHAPTER 2: BEAU'S BEANERY

"Welcome to Beau's Beanery, best first sip in The 'Sipp," I recite with insincere cheerfulness for, likely, the fiftieth time today. I've been working here since high school, so I'm certain I repeat the line in my sleep.

On the other side of the counter stands a petite knockout, an indisputable winner of the genetic lottery. The type who appear freshly showered when they're not. Their hair bounces around in slow motion, they don't have visible pores, and I wonder if they appear so flawless eating a donut. I ask myself if such a beautiful being would deign to eat a donut.

She studies the menu above my head as if she's gonna order something different than she does every morning she comes in. She bites her lip, hoping to land on the cusp of a decision. I give her a small but encouraging smile when her eyes meet mine. Hers are the color of oceans I've never seen in real life. Mine are brown and prone to dark circles when I get less than seven hours of sleep (as calculated by my mom).

"Oh, heck! I'm just gonna get what I always get." She rolls her eyes at her indecision. "Sorry 'bout taking so long!"

"Medium Three-Legged-Lady Latte comin' up."

Named for a supposedly haunted road in another Mississippi town, it has a bit of lavender syrup and is, like most things at Beau's, overpriced. She deliberates but always ends up ordering the same thing. She's sweet, so I never try to rush her or act perturbed. I couldn't say the same for my other best friend and long-time co-worker, Mac, who might be the most impatient person I've ever met. Lucky for him, his Uncle Beau owns Beau's Beanery, so his customer service skills aren't scrutinized.

She taps her card, and I know the bottom of the receipt will read "Olivia Page Hollingsworth,", but she goes by "Livvy." She was in the Elementary Education program, so we've had some classes together over the years. I don't know her well, but she's kindly offered her notes twice when I missed class, and her smile has more warmth than a basket full of Goldendoodle puppies complete with a giant red bow. I've seen Alabama tags on her car, so I assumed she might move back home after graduation.

"Thanks for taking your first sip in The 'Sipp at Beau's." I hand her the latte. Once upon a time, I was horrified by the required lines I repeated for employment's sake. Now, I recite them with relative ease.

"'Preciate it, Georgie!" She offers up a one-dimpled smile before turning to leave. Grabbing the Windex, I round the counter to start the end of shift duties before it picks back up.

I wipe down the inside of the massive front window and watch Livvy's ponytail and latte move towards the Old Mayland City Courthouse. I bet her family is the type to wear matching button-up pajamas for Christmas pictures. I imagine a family of four-a–mother, father and two kids–barreling down a staircase to inspect what Santa Claus left for good behavior. I don't belong to one of those families, but I find them as perfect as a postcard picture.

My mom and I used to borrow a pickup from one of the owners of Bones Malone. We'd choose a six-foot tree from the Eliasson Christmas Tree Farm and frost it with silver tinsel, colored lights, and a multi-pack of ornaments bought at a Cracker Barrel many moons ago. We listened to the same Bing Crosby songs of her childhood and burned through the Harry Potter movies in chronological order. All in all, I'd say we did the holiday justice. For a few years, anyway.

I step out to warm air, at odds with the leaves that fell during the few days we had lower temperatures. Josephine B. Williams Student Union stands nobly in the distance. I'm reminded of the first class I had freshman year there–Introduction to Learning Disabilities with Dr. Trinh. I felt like I already had more than enough of an introduction to learning disabilities through dealing with my own, but that class and Dr Trinh opened my eyes to how many ways in which students struggle.