Hiding Sparrows

37. Let it all out

After we were done in the shower, Ty and I both toweled down and got dressed. I wore another one of his t-shirts, given that my clothes were still in a dirty heap in the corner of the room from the night before.

When he asked if I wanted a coffee, I'd said yes, expecting it would be of the instant variety, or a Nespresso machine. Instead, he led me out to the living area and I watched from across the kitchen island as he pulled the handle from a proper fancy espresso machine.

"How do you like it?" He asked, opening a cupboard in which was an array of coffee roast bags, along with a black tin at the front. He pulled this down, tilting it open. "I have a Columbian medium roast already ground, if that's ok?"

"As long as it's coffee, I couldn't care less," I replied, easing into one of the stools on the island. It was incredibly comfortable, which I noticed as stools weren't generally so.

"Well, this is about as standard a bean as you can get," Ty said, tapping the container. "You're not a coffee person, I take it?"

I shrugged. "I like it as much as the next person. But as for whether or not one cup tastes any different from the next, so long as it isn't burnt, I'm not picky."

He emptied some of the grounds into the strainer and used a press to tamp it. "You know, it's not the coffee that's burnt, usually. More often, it's the milk. Especially if you get a plant based milk, then they heat at different temperatures."

"That, I knew," I replied. "My grandma always has soy, and she complains about it all the time."

"Your grandma?"

Instantly, I tensed up. I hadn't meant to bring her up, to speak about that side of my life so casually. The anecdote had come so freely, I hadn't even thought about it. Yet instantly I was, picturing her face, the phone calls I'd been dodging.

Ty watched me from the corner of his eye as he pulled out two mugs from another cupboard, and asked carefully, "Is that the one you went to live with as a teenager? With your religious grandfather?"

Slowly, I nodded. There was a lapse in the conversation as he switched on the coffee machine, and it buzzed and hummed for a few moments before dribbling into the waiting mugs.

When I didn't spontaneously turn to flames at the mention of my past, and the initial guilt had eased a bit, I spoke.

"Yeah. They live up the central coast."

"Small town, doesn't like dairy?" He asked.

"Weirdly. But their town is kinda weird, a lot of upper class people who moved out of the city. My gran has been there since the 70's though. Her mum was a bit of a hippy, and so gran used to be vegan. Now, she just doesn't drink milk."

He nodded, easing across to the fridge to pull out a carton of milk. "Do you have soy milk too? I only have this, but I can duck downstairs if you need me to."

"Cow's milk is fine."

I watched while he worked, flitting around the kitchen and navigating the silver machine with ease. In another life, I could almost picture him as a barista, in some hipster cafe with industrial style furniture, and concrete walls. Or perhaps an old one, with creaky furnishings and faded signs, where old ladies loved to sit and gossip, and locals were greeted by name.

The vision was so clear, I almost longed for it. A world where the boy who made my insides flip did nothing more than make coffee and smile at strangers. Why did I never fall for those kinds of guys?

When Ty placed the mug in front of me, I tried to clear the thoughts from my head, get rid of the weird phantom longing I'd just felt. He watched me a moment, calculating, but didn't say anything.