The Late Night Coffee Drinkers

When Caffeine is Absent

John, a thirty nine year old, closeted cross dresser spent an after work evening in his apartment. Sweating harshly from the tropic heat, an appreciation of tourist but a public enemy of many foreign workers. Suits, sun and sweat is a recipe for discomfort and constantly wishing to be staying at an air-conditioned cafe.

The barista team know Millie by name and by face, understandable every writer needs a coffee and a coffee table, and that green siren emblem makes it delicious she once complimented. She's friendly to her 'coffee masters', even impressing them with her coffee knowledge by working shifts in their family owned cafe boasting and roasting Italian heritage pride. She speaks to them with avid curiosity about local politics, go-to cheap eats, and complaining about customers... ah those brats that piss us off from loudly dragging chairs, putting their used cups on another customer's table even when the counter is two steps away and a group of students occupying one table each.

"What a waste of caramel 'frappucino', just because she tried to speak English but obviously cannot thus you made a mistake where in fact it is her mistake and her fault and even publicly shouted at you" Millie's opinion and words win the coffee masters. She is that rare person who spends a little more time with everyday people, she likes them because of their non-pretentious personality. Part of the job, part of the training - after all baristas have no power to choose their customers. "We had it worse, much worse sometimes" the coffee master had said while cleaning the nozzle of the steamer making Millie's beloved cup of soy latte.

"Many customers yell at us, for not cleaning tables when it is our job to make a cup of coffee. Cleanliness is part of it but during rush hour, it is difficult to keep an eye on tables when you're juggling several customers. One time we got yelled at, because there were too many customers" the cafe was near empty, thus they were able to chat a little.

John who lives nearby, decided to come for a coffee and a muffin to feed a temporary boredom... Recognised a familiar face, they - he and Millie shared a table yet again.

"Any plans for the weekend" John asked, sipping a piping hot of black joe. "If I had plans then I wouldn't be drinking a cup of soy latte on a Friday evening, rather on a Saturday afternoon for a hangover cure" Millie said, "I couldn't even afford to have a fucking plan".

John felt for her, the truth is always difficult to say therefore mega seldom heard. He felt the invisible vibe of frustration, and desperation of a victimised older millennial from the recession. "I couldn't afford it too, it's hard to trust these days especially as foreigners here. Nothing is free these days, I hear you... even planning costs money" John replied.

"Why are we drinking coffee late" John wondered. "I feel like working on a book tonight, though sometimes it ends up working on crossword puzzles from the unread newspapers I accumulated during the week... because crosswords are the only thing newsworthy. What about you?" Millie is half way her soy latte.

"I wanted to cool down, maybe look for someone familiar. Sadly, this isn't Hong Kong or Singapore where time seems faster as the expat community and the people are vibrant" John explained.

"Speaking of crosswords, it's that I misheard it as crossroads" he is getting in to terms that forty is around the corner.

"Now it got me thinking" Millie smiled like she had a Eureka moment. "If there is such thing as Freudian slip, then maybe there is also such thing as a Freudian hearing or seeing. It's like we associate tone of the words, in the basis of where we are in our lives or what we look for or what we want to hear" Millie is very much learnt, and philosophical. "What a thought" I was dumbfounded.

"I'm in that crossroad, I confess" John said, and drank some of his energy fluid called coffee. As they are still getting to know each other, Millie didn't push the buttons that far.

"Do you have a boyfriend" he bluntly asked.

"Yeah..." Millie sounded dissatisfied or not willing to share as John and she were just getting to know.

"I'm in the twilight of my life" John's true colours are coming out, "I've not been with anyone for a long time" he sighed holding back tears. Millie knew, he has strong femininity deep down. "How so" she asked, removing their walls and building a friendship.

"My one and only ex girlfriend, told me I have a tiny cock... which is true. She cheated twelve months out of twenty four to thirty months. When I was doing well after MBA in Toronto she became loving, for money. I had never seen any form of genitals after. That's fifteen years ago" John confessed, Millie felt for him. "I will never dump someone with a tiny cock" Millie said. "Most women have other priorities, I sometimes have a fantasy of marrying a straight woman's and dumping her for a man, just to let it all out" the last bite of muffin eaten, like a T-Rex's last meal.

"I love my tiny cock, it's very versatile. I can nicely fit in to panties" John lowering his guard down as Millie closely listened. "I worn a man's boxers once. I went on holiday with my boyfriend and I forgot to pack my underwear... distracted whether the shoes will match the dresses. He lend me his, and I cannot blame you men's boxers are made of stiff fabric" there's something special about being part of the minority of pure realness, it's like finding that right blend of coffee beans to soothe whatever it is your feeling.

"I never said that to anyone, only you" in full confidence John declared who he is. "I'm glad we met" a good time ahead.

"We should do lingerie shopping these days" a friendship brewed in a cafe, has turned to a friendship outside of it.