Coffee Stains (Discovery of Love)

Chapter One- Black Coffee

~Welcome! :D I finally updated. Sorry it took so long, there were a few things I still had to sort out. I changed some parts (very few) of the summary so you can check that out (I advise you to) by going back to the 'COMING SOON' chapter or by clicking on the book. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to vote and comment your hearts out! Even share it with your friends and family!~

{Chapter One}

~Present

My fingers tap against the counter impatiently as the customer taps her chin in thought. I mean seriously, how difficult is it to choose what kind of coffee you want? It's not like it's a life or death situation. It's a good thing it's not too busy so I don't have to deal with deadly glares from customers who would've been behind her.

"I think I'll have a French- actually no!" I hold in an irritated groan as the brunette goes back to thinking while her eyes travel over the options above, like she has been doing for the last ten minutes.

"Would you like me to suggest something?" I ask as politely as I can with a sugar sweet smile.

"No, that's okay. I think I'll take a latte...wait actually-" she says before I cut her off.

"One latte!" I say cheerfully, going to the coffee machine to start making the cup of coffee. The customer protests but I don't look back, acting like I can't hear her. You can't blame me, I had to do something unless we would've been at it forever.

I carefully go through the process of making the coffee, enjoying the scent of fresh coffee beans and warm milk. I delicately make latte art, moving my hands slowly as the milk pours into the cup. People make latte art look easy but it is way harder than you think. You have to know how to do a certain design, at what speed to pour the milk in and must have the patience to master it after messing up multiple times.

Perfecting the art, smelling coffee and feeling warmth is the whole reason why I love this job. It makes me forget everything outside the steam and espresso. It makes me forget the past that made part of me bitter. It's ironic how I don't fancy coffee but love to make it and made it my way of escape.

I started working here, at Coffee Beans, a few months after my father left since debt was dumped on my family out of nowhere. We literally don't know where it all came from. It isn't a small debt either so only my mother having a job just didn't work out. I came across the coffee shop after deciding to take another route home from school and immediately found it welcoming and fascinating. I had my first taste of coffee here and my last, as I said I don't fancy it. However, what did make me come back was the barista at that time. How he did the art, like it was fragile and did it with so much enjoyment, made me instantly want to be able to do latte art that great and beautiful so I took a job here. I started at the lowest job and worked my way up, while practicing latte art with one of the baristas and my second mother, Pat, on evenings. The boss was a little skeptical about giving me a job at first since I was only sixteen and the coffee shop was pretty popular but after some begging and convincing I got it. Of course, my mother didn't want me to pick up a job because I still have school to think about. However, eventually she had to give in, but not without allowing her to help me with school in any way possible.

I complete the latte, smiling down at my masterpiece before turning around to give the customer her 'order'. The first thing I notice is her irritated look but when she sees the latte in my hands, she gasps and her face lights up.

"Wow," she says as I place the cup of coffee in front of her. Her eyes travel over the art with an expression of awe while I smile.
I state the price of the coffee before she hands over the money and takes a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the room.

"That only happens when you learn from the best," Pat boasts playfully from her station as she makes a cup of coffee for her customer. I let out a light chuckle, shaking my head at the stout, dark-skinned lady. Pat and I have a very close relationship, as I said before she is like a second mother to me. She helps my mother and I in any way she can and looks out for me.

"You know it." I wink causing her to laugh.

The rest of my shift is a flash of coffee, amazed looks and pastries. It isn't that big of a selection in terms of the pastries since the shop focuses more on coffee than anything else but it isn't small either. When my shift is over, I sign out and say goodbye to Pat before heading home.

The sun beats down on me as I walk through town, seeing happy couples and families. If only they knew that what they think holds them together is a cruel thing. A cruel thing that harmed my family. It's only a matter of time before the once beautiful thing shows it's true colors. The bitter thoughts engulf me as I continue my walk home, sweat beading my forehead and my legs aching from the long walk. I stop at the window of a bakery and wish I could buy the sweet items for my family and I. However, all I can do is look and feel my heart sink, knowing that it's probably going to be a long time before I can taste another cupcake or brownie. In the reflection of the glass window, I notice my dingy clothes. With only so much money to spare, we only buy things that we need and new clothing or sweet treats aren't something we need. Sure, I want new, fancy clothes but knowing my situation, I refuse to complain because all that matters is the fact that I have a roof over my head, food and at least something to wear.

I turn away from the glass window and continue on my way, not stopping again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I turn into the gap towards my house, a feeling of déjà vu sweeps over me, taking me two years back again.  I remember running out the house a few minutes later to see if my father had a change of heart and was standing outside.  The car was missing from the drive way causing my heart to be crushed under the sadness that weighed me down.  I bawled for hours on the driveway until my mother finally came and took me inside. A few days after when my mother went shopping and was going to pay with her debit card, the cashier told her there was no money on it.  She went to the bank and her whole account was wiped out. 

As I look at the brick house now, I remember all the unpleasant memories that my father left behind.  However, when I see my mother walking up the gap with my siblings, all is forgotten.