7 Things About the Boy Next Door

Chapter 5

"Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory." -Dr. Suess

~Harmony~

I find myself joining the back of the queue at the coffee shop downtown. I love the entrancing aura of coffee shops; delectable baked goodies showcased in the windows, inviting warmth hugging the interior, cosy dim lighting, rustic décor all coated in an aroma of fresh coffee beans.

I also love the smell of coffee; it's always soothed me for some strange reason even though I hate the taste of actual coffee. My friends think I'm crazy for it, add the fact that I don't drink alcohol or tea either, I become a new species of alien. I don't mind though, those things have just never been me and I've never pretended they were.

I walk up to the front counter in a daze, still unsure of what to request. An order of a long black pops to mind and I impulsively voice it to the waitress.

Long black; Mel's favourite.

I'd always been too disgusted by the taste of coffee to try it, and the thought of having it so concentrated in the way Melody drank hers was repulsing. Why I ordered one for myself, I don't know. It was probably my mind trying to commemorate Mel in a way she would like; try something of hers. She was always on my back about getting out and trying new things, so this is for her.

The voluptuous waitress slides my coffee over to me with a rehearsed smile and asks for $5.50. I chuck her six bucks and let her pocket the change, taking my coffee-to-go over the street and into the park.

The lovely warmth provided from the contents of the cup seep into my chilled hands and I catch a whiff of the coffee wisping up from the cup, calming me from the inside.

I stroll a little further than necessary into the park, but know it's worth it when I see the bench I was looking for on the opposite side of the little pond. This area brings back lots of happy memories of Melody and I in our early childhood; I can almost see the two little girls of our past dancing through the trees, bouncing through the autumn leaves and throwing sliced bread to the begging ducks quaking from the shallow waters of the pond.

I take a seat on the cool bench and sniff the coffee as I admire the engravings on the seat. The planks of wood are now almost filled to the brim with carvings; names, dates, drawings and promises of forever blanket the bench head to toe in a beautiful collage. Amongst the array of names, my eyes are easily drawn to a specific statement engraved onto the bench by my thigh; 'Harmony and Melody - duplicates indefinitely'.

I vividly remember carving the words out. Back then the bench was much clearer of graffiti so we wrote in large letters using an especially pointy rock we found by the swing set a few years back. It took while to carve and by the end our hands was sore, but totally worth the time to have our names on show. We encased it in a completely out of proportion heart.

I dreamily trace each letter with my finger, a small smile playing my lips at the happy memory before turning my attention back to the coffee in my hand.

I give it a swirl around the styrofoam cup and slowly bring it to my lips, purposefully taking my time to mentally prepare myself, saying it can't be as bad as my warped brain conjured it up to be.

Taking a tentative sip, I am reminded why I hate the taste of coffee. Sputtering and practically gagging, I wipe my tongue from the sharp, bitter flavour on my sleeve but the tangy aftertaste stuck in the back of my mouth is worse.

I happily throw the long black forcefully in the bin and send a mental message to Melody asking how she ever drank something so vile. But I feel good that I at least tried; Mel would be happy I'm trying.