Caffé Americano Antithesis

Chapter 1

A few things run through my mind when I think about this man. He comes by the shop I work every Tuesday and Thursday at almost exactly 7:30am, orders a coffee and a bagel, and sits down at his laptop for two hours, every so often glancing up from the screen to look at the bored expression on my face. Every single one of my coworkers think we'd be P-E-R-F-E-C-T together and I really don't see why. My skinny arms and body covered in my mediocre sense of style are always behind this beige counter next to the display case of cakes and donuts. He carries his grey laptop bag around, wears blazers and suits, we're cut from two different pieces of fabric. Specifically; worn out jersey and wool. I suppose I understand where they got this fetishized ideal of the poor awkward soul with the rich endearing business man but that didn't make it better.

"He's baaaaack," Bibi excitedly nudged my shoulder as I was making the latte for a very angry, middle aged man. Bibi also practically lives in this fine establishment. She has very long and dark, practically black, hair that she keeps in a long ponytail that shoots through the back of her black uniform hat. Her skin is a tanned olive colour and her eyes are the colour of ground coffee, or, as she calls them, poop brown.

"Shit Bibi, I could've spilled this," I repositioned the foaming tool so I didn't get hot milk and foam all over me. Bibi moved her head from side to side with this odd wave pattern and moved her eyebrows up and down. That day wasn't very busy, so when I slid to the 'pick up' side of the counter and called the name of the disgruntled mid-life crisis just waiting to happen, instead I looked up and could only lock eyes onto my two-times a week appointment. He had pale white skin that made me want to push him into the sunlight, or a beach, or anywhere, to tell you the truth. Especially if it meant the horrid harassment from my coworkers would stop.

He stared into my soul with his light, green eyes and I felt chills go down my spine. Although I had looked up for only half a second, it felt like hours of uncomfortable closeness. Bibi, of course, with all her loveliness, saw our awkward shifting of the eyes and tried with all her might to let me know she did as I gulped my way back to the cash register. Her eyes saying, "OoOoOoOoOoOo." I don't understand what she can see that I can't. She thinks he looks at me with this, warm loving expression from afar. I don't feel that. I feel like I am being watched when he's around.

    I served people right and left normally, extremely aware of his getting closer and closer with every person I served. The more muffins I toasted and coffees I made, the more suffocation I was enduring.

    Finally, he walked to the front of the counter.

    "Good morning! What can I do for you today?" I smiled, trying to look past him by staring at the ad for our 'brand new butter pecan frappe' on the window parallel to the counter. If you test this out at home you will find that it makes you look severely cross eyed.

    "Morning!" He smiled, "Can I please have an everything bagel with garlic and herb cream cheese and a medium coffee."

    "No problem, will that be all?" I finally moved my eyes to look at him as he was, the way he was looking at me, the way he always looks at me. I could see his under-eye bags behind his glasses. He was around my age, if I'm honest, I don't know what about him gave the essence of MAN. A very unsubtle polarity between my essence of BOY. In many ways he was everything I wasn't, everything I hated, and everything I wanted to be.

Do not get this confused, however, with the idea that he was everything I wanted.

He is not.

    He hesitated for a second like he was choking on a word that he wanted to say but then said, "That's all."

    I rung him up, he handed me five dollars and I handed him his change, trying not to touch his hand while I handed him the dimes and nickels. Of course, I did, a sort of static touched my middle finger and I tried to pull my hand away as quickly as possible without being rude. I made his coffee and cut his bagel trying to ignore Bibi's looks and gestures that were getting increasingly intense.

    It sometimes feels like, because i'm so skinny as a guy, the only role people expect me to play is the submissive and she just has this image of me and him being so "perfect" because I fit her mold of the damsel in distress and he can be my dominant prince who is too overprotective and gets mad when I hang out with guys he feels threatens him.

    I don't want any part of this fantasy.

The shop stopped being busy around nine o'clock, everyone was in work by then. Just a few people on tablets, laptops, and phones were scattered about and a few people trickled in every two minutes for a morning coffee.

Bibi swung her arms on her way to me, by the cash registers, and then slammed them down onto the counter. "Steven, can you go clean the tables?" She fluttered her fake eyelashes and tilted her head. "Why-can't-you," I said through my teeth pressed together into a tight, fake, smile. She did the same, "You-might-be-able-to-talk-to-him." My eyes rolled as far as they could. Continuing the trend, I clenched my fist and said, "Who-says-I-want-to."

"Just do it."

I walked over to the cabinet and grabbed the cleaning wipes, looking back at Bibi one last time before I would hate her forever. I'm just kidding Bibi, I don't hate you.

I started cleaning from the side absolutely farthest from where he was sat and slowly began wiping crumbs off the tables and recycling coffee cups and paper bags.

    I felt his presence became more and more prominent as I wiped each table moving closer to him. At last, I got to the table next to his. As I quietly, nervously, wiped the table with the disinfectant wipe I tried to ignore the eyes I felt on me.

"How are you today?"

My whole body jumped, keeping one hand on the table wiping I slowly turned around. He was looking at me with a soft curved smile.

I laughed, nervously, "Good, just busy with normal stuff."  

I could feel him "nonchalantly" directing his full attention towards me. Whatever he was doing on his laptop ceased. "Like what?"

I finally let go of the wipe whose content had saturated my own hand and leaned on the faux marble table that definitely could not support my tiny weight. I tried not to look him in the eyes but when someone is obviously giving you full eye contact it's difficult to ignore it. "Like school and work and stuff. You're probably busy with stuff like that too."

"School, yes," He nodded his head. He had very dark hair but from here I could see that it was actually quite thin. Maybe his glasses are so round and dark I had never seen that.

I was going to ask about school or something in order to not suddenly make the conversation more awkward but he beat me to my follow up.

"Do you have a lunch break?" He asked, "I hate to distract you, You probably should get back to work but maybe we can talk then, if you want." His laptop screen began growing dim and he semi-aggressively tapped the spacebar the the screen lit up again. My brain, on the other hand, just shut off.

"Uh... I-I.." I stuttered, "My lunch isn't until 12:30. You'll probably have to get going to school right?"

He smiled, "Actually, I work near by twice a week. I don't mind stopping by again if you have the time."

"Ohhhhkay," My mind plunged into a realm of uncertainty, up, then back down.

"Great!" He looked at the upper right hand of his computer, "I actually should get going, so I'll see you later."

He shoved his laptop into his bag, picked up his coffee cup and plate (which was greatly appreciated) and skipped out the door. I wanted, more than anything in the universe, to be able to slam my head through the table. All you had to say was no, you're busy. This is just gonna make everything worse. NICE GOING DICKFACE.