Forget Her Not

13 | wavers of blue

Sheila finds me outside.

I have barely registered her presence before she is already crouching down to sit next to me, leaving a deliberate gap in between us. Her wordless silence is as clear of an I told you so, as day.

She pulls her phone out. "You ready to go?"

I nod. I tip my head down to avoid looking at her face.

The next morning, Delilah does not show up for our shared shift. Her unexpected absence makes our manager, Andrew, grumbly, and has him filling in for her when needed instead. We get lucky though. Today's Sunday morning is not busier than it usually is, and there are no demanding customers who hold up lines or complain about the menu prices. There are no overly complicated coffee orders and no broken, malfunctioning, wacked up machines. Nothing out of the unusual, other than-

"Could I get a medium sized expresso? Have here?"

Liam is standing in front of the counter. I had been so determinedly focused on not thinking about him this morning, on not running through his words last night over and over again in my head like a broken cassette tape, on not remembering the way the moonlight had looked settled placidly over his skin, painting an ivory layer of sheer muslin onto his cheeks and collarbones.

I had been so resolute with pushing him as far out of my mind as possible, tucking him away in a tiny box and snapping said box out of existence. Now that he is here, I am rendered dumbstruck.

Liam's face remains carefully neutral even when all I can do is gape. He folds his hands together as he waits, no sign of unease other than his slightly more rapid than usual blinking.

"Sure thing." I say, fingers shaky as I operate the register. "Take away?"

I am wincing even before Liam has to repeat himself.

"Have here." he says again.

"Got it. When you're ready."

Liam taps his card to pay for his coffee and moves away to secure a table.

My heart thunders away in my chest. I fix my nicest customer service smile on for the next person waiting in line. I end up almost calling him Liam.

I had never really been able to turn off that switch in my head, the one that had me all painfully aware of Liam's presence and in attune with his movements. It just did not seem to want to budge, as though a small rock had been wedged in there somewhere, keeping it stiff and upright. So when I take the rest of the orders and deliver mugs and plates to waiting customers, I note things about Liam without even trying. I see his subtle hesitance when he takes out his laptop. The brashness with which he sweeps his notebook and stationery over the table with. The little twisting of his fingers around his fountain pen, that he does when he is feeling unsure about a question. I see the quick peeks that he sneaks my way when I am half turned away from him.

My hands are sweaty when I pick up Liam's expresso. It makes no sense for a past relationship to feel like the first few days of a new crush. It makes no sense, but when it comes to Liam, things had stopped making sense a while ago.

I am okay. I can do this. I am only handing him a cup of coffee, and Andrew makes great coffee, I know this from countlessly reinforced first-hand experience. I take careful, deliberate steps towards Liam's table. His shoulders tense a little as I approach.

I set the mug down onto the table. Liam looks up.

"Enjoy." I say to him.

I dart away back to the safety of the counter quickly.