North & West

Seventeen

I'd never been much of coffee drinker, much preferring the stinging aftertaste of whiskey to the scald of coffee against my tongue.

I cupped my hands around the mug, the warmth from the porcelain cup seeping into my fingers. I'd woken up with one hell of a hangover, the sort that made you regret not only the last drink you had, but also the first one you'd ever picked up.

My father was still a bit odd around me, the disappointment from having to pick me up from the police station evident on his face each time I walked past him. This morning, the pounding in my head reaching an extremely intense level, had spurred me to grab a pair of sneakers and head down to the local coffee shop.

It was small, the average size you'd expect for a place that sold various coffees and those little pastries that could make anyone smile. Except I wasn't smiling today, not even after I'd ordered a glazed doughnut with my coffee – an all black espresso – which was by far my favorite doughnut.

I sighed, leaning over my cup to look into it as the steam rose, disappearing into the air. I momentarily wished I could be like the steam, able to disappear and make myself dissipate when I felt like things were getting too haywire, too much to bare.

I downed the rest of my espresso in one big gulp, cringing a bit when the bitter liquid hit my tongue. It was certainly a very strong coffee, but I figured I could handle it with everything else I did to myself.

I watched, a bit amused, as a girl struggled to pick up a tall cup of coffee from the counter and lift her purse at the same time. That amusement quickly died when I recognized the girl, her fiery red hair like an opening door into my past and the regrets that came with it.

Without really thinking about it, I slid out from behind the table at the booth I'd been sitting at – alone, of course – and made my way over to her as she continued to struggle with her cup and purse. The girl behind the counter, a young girl with a sour look on her face, continued to take customers around Rose's struggling frame without even offering a word of help.

I took the cup from Rose's hand, giving her a small smile when she ground at an, “Oh my gosh, thank you,” without looking at me.

When she finally got her bearings together, her leather purse secured carefully on her shoulder and a hand reaching up to tuck the loose pieces of her hair back, she finally looked at me. “North!”

It sounded like an exclamation and her excitement would have been contagious if I didn't feel like literal scum whenever I saw her around town. 

“Yeah,” I paused, taking in her disheveled appearance. “Would you like to sit down with me?”

I'm not sure what made me do it, because I instantly regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I wouldn't have a clue as to what to say to her; we were completely different people now and any hope either of us had for becoming friends again was just setting ourselves up for an even more painful failure than the first time had been.

Rose stood silent for a moment, glancing at the door before shrugging. “Sure, I'm out on an errand but it won't hurt for me to take a coffee break.”

“If you're busy, don't worry about it. I was just being nice.” I quickly said, rushing to cover my tracks as I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. Rose and I were different people now and I needed to keep reminding myself of it.

“No, really, I'd like to.” She smiled and I led her over to my booth and empty coffee cup.

“So, uh, how's the job going?”

“Really, really great, actually. I love it, and it's just about everything I thought it'd be. Of course, the hours are long and I often feel like I'm running out of steam, but I couldn't be more happy.” She gushed and I found myself smiling along with her.