The Definition of Me

Chapter 17: Coffee Filler

Dedicated to 666kea . I am happy I crossed paths with you...

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I ordered a latte with cream and four packets of sugar. A migraine and caffeine have always been a pair for me. If I am drinking coffee that means I have a migraine. If I have a migraine that means I will be drinking coffee. Which is what I am doing now. It's sugary and latte is practically 50% milk, but it's still under the category 'Coffees' so I still consider it as one. I try to distract myself with it by staring at the creamy part or focusing on its taste. I look around the café and start people-watching. There is an old lady sitting alone at a table for two. Perhaps she is waiting for him or her, but my initial thought is that she is a widow. She does not look like she's waiting for someone and she is doing the exact same thing I am doing. Our eyes meet. We look at each other for a second. I notice how baggy and wrinkled her eyes are, and how the corners of her mouth are bending down because of old age. She looks sad and tired. And it reminds me that I am not alone in the universe who is just as sad and tired, and yet living.

I feel Liam rest his hand on mine. Goosebumps are sent down my arm and I look at him. He is such a dork. He is so cheesy you won't believe people like him exist. He doesn't mind not sharing his own problems because what's on his mind are yours. He is worried about me and I am worried that he is worried about me because I don't him to do that. I can never get tired of gazing at him, I can never get tired of him. Perhaps that old lady didn't have a troubled childhood, but she is lonely now. And whilst I was raised by an alcoholic whom I despise calling my father, I am not lonely. I have Liam and I have Evangeline. I have Gemma and my mom is attempting at getting me back. I am far from lonely. And I become grateful for their existence and for mine too, no matter how temporary that is. 

I don't take my eyes off of him and take a sip of my drink, leaving a creamy mustache on my upper lip. Liam is still holding one of my hands, and he squeezes it a little tighter. 

"You don't have to do this," I say.

"What if I want to do this?"

"Well, then you're an idiot for wasting your life trying to rescue me."

"What if I want to help you?"

"Why?"

"Because it's you." He pauses. 

"But you deserve to be happy."

"I am happy. I made more happy memories with you and Eva than I would have in a whole year of college."

"I loved Coney Island." I bluntly comment, reminiscing. "I loved Empire State Building, and even that shortly interrupted Warriors game." I chuckle and he does too.

He wipes some of the cream from my lips and licks it. "And I love this coffee." He takes my whole mug. "I would also love to finish it."

"I kind of did too."

"But you wouldn't. You hate coffee."

"Good point, but you should know that coffee helps to cure headaches." 

We talk. The 'small talk' kind. I appreciate him for that - for letting me talk about the widow lady, the coffee, the outfit I picked out today, what I ate this morning, how's the weather outside... It helps me stay grounded, it helps me stay on track with what else I am doing with my life when I don't want to think about the one thing that is constantly happening - the divorce, dad, trauma, depression, pills, therapist, all that combined into one. I don't want to think about it at all, but I cannot control my thoughts either. I can't let them go the minute they enter my mind, and so a small talk distracts me. It keeps me occupied with my daily life. With the life that is temporary, where every day is different and you don't think about the yesterdays and tomorrows. The now is where I want to be, but it's difficult to stay focused with a mind like mine. It's difficult to do anything these days. Sometimes lifting a fork makes me feel like I am power lifting. But it's on days like these that I get a break from myself. Sometimes you need that too. And the only thing that helps me escape myself is by talking about something else, which is exactly what we did for 30 minutes straight. And those were the most relaxed minutes of my week. 

We take off and leave a small tip on the table.
I loved this place. I loved spending time here too, I think, but now it became a place for hiding because if I come home, I will isolate myself, if I go out, all I can think of, all I can look at, are pubs. And if there aren't any then I imagine the times I saw one. The times I saw my dad in one too, and the times I refused to go in one when Evangeline was going through a party phase during sophomore year. And before people start protesting that latte should be removed from the 'Coffees' section, I suggest taking alcohol off the menu first.

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Hi, everyone! Thank you for reading this filler chapter of 'The Definition of Me'. Please leave your suggestions about what you want to see in the story - more romance, more drama, more emotional chapters or more easy-going chapters? Updates coming soon!

With loads of bookworming love,

Barbara xx