The Café Vanellas

9: on second impressions

// Toriv

The first spring rains went on for days, turning pretty much the whole city into a pile of icy sludge. This is only slightly better than it being an icy snowdrift like it is six months in the year. This is prime boot-ruining weather hour, fashionistas beware. I swear I was walking everywhere on my tippy toes, that's just how afraid I was. Why don't I live somewhere that's never seen winter, like Los Angeles? Plus everyone's gay in LA, that should be reason enough.

I'd miss this place too much, though, even with the garbage weather. And I couldn't really run off to sunny Los Angeles with a date to keep.

Mahendra and I texted a little over the next few days, just making small talk. He sent me a few more smiley face emojis, which was precious as shit for some reason, but he didn't actually show his face at the shop again until Friday afternoon. Jamie was in too, sitting perched on a barstool to show off what I can only assume were genuine red-soled Christian Louboutins. If you've ever met a Montréal elf who loves shoes more than his own life, it was probably Jamie Me'aranas.

"Bonjour, monsieur le professeur," I called as the professor pushed open my door. "Are you enjoying monsoon season?"

"Pas du tout, monsieur le barista," Mahendra said. He shook out his damp hair and looked sadly at his water-speckled briefcase. "Though if you want to see a real monsoon, try India in July."

"I'll pass, if it's all the same to you. How about a drink to warm you up?"

His face lit up in one of those shy little smiles that make his brown eyes shine behind his glasses. "Yes. The mocha, please."

As he crept up to the counter to pay, Jamie turned in his stool with a sly "well, well, well" look that, I'll be honest, put a bit of the fear of the gods in me. If my life were a kid's cartoon, Jamie would definitely be the incredibly stylish but manipulative supervillain who worms his way into the hero's friend circle before unleashing his dastardly plan and very best evil laugh. I love him to death, but just sayin'.

"Hello," Jamie said with a flutter of his fingers. "Nice to see you again, Mahendra."

Mahendra looked surprised just at being addressed, which I was finding out is a common look for him. "Hello, Jamie. You look lovely today. Louboutin?"

"Yes, sir. They're the same model I wore to senior prom. To much scandal, I should add."

"'Scandalous' is your middle name," I said. "I wore my ratty old combat boots to my prom."

"So did I," Mahendra said a little wistfully, while me and Jamie looked at him with matching expressions of shock.

"You? Oh, darling," Jamie said passionately. "I was sure you were more of a 'not a thread out of place' kind of guy."

"I wasn't always." He shrugged, like saying that he hadn't always so put-together wasn't completely crazy. "I actually didn't care much for nice clothes in my youth. And those were my favourite boots."

"That has to be a joke. You're made to walk down a runway. Tell him, Toriv."

"Uh, yeah," I said super smoothly. "You're, like, really tall. So that's great. For runway purposes."

Jamie gave me a look like I'd just murdered all the younglings at the temple, while Mahendra said bashfully, "I'm only five ten. And not nearly handsome enough to model."

Jamie shook his head. "Too humble. How is it you're dating Toriv, who has ego practically bleeding out of his ass?"

"We're not dating," Mahendra and I said at the same time.