Hurricane

one

"I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had in the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic, electric, and everybody knew it. When he walked in, every women's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way I understood him and I loved him."

-Lana Del Rey

♦

The day he left was the day a large piece of me died. My eyes were opened, my soul was blackened, and my heart split. I was blinded by the beauty of another person and I eventually had to be awoken from this false sense of safety. And that's what he did, made me feel safe. Even when he wasn't around, the confidence made me feel like I could not be touched. I was made from a weak little girl into someone far better than that. But when he left me, my mask was ripped off, the costume stripped, and I was exactly the girl I was before.

He was different. He looked so simple, but he came with so many complexities. He was filled with so many secrets, and as we came to know each other, they were uncovered. We both had a wall that kept others out, to keep us feeling sheltered, and the hardest thing was to breakdown all of those layers. It was rough, but I thought it was worth it, that he was worth it. I would climb mountains and take bullets for him. But the most terrible feeling in the world is when you discover that you're just not as important as you believed that you were. And I think that was the worst part; knowing that you're just another person, when he was the person.

The day I met him, it was raining, as usual. My grandmother owned a small coffee shop in the center of town that was pretty popular. In my free time I would wait some tables and help her out. And don't get me wrong, I love my grandma. She was the one thing in the world I actually truly loved and cared for. But I hated working there. I hate coffee, and the smell of it. I disliked how all the kids from school came there. The popular girls came there to be loud and gossip and the smart kids came to study. It bothered me to see them more than needed, but I did it for her.

It was late, and we were close to closing time. My Nan was packaging the pastries and I was wiping down the tables. The only other customers were usual. They can't focus anywhere else so they pay their bills here and things like that. So when the bell above the door rung, it was unusual.

"Welcome to the Busy Bean Café, how may I help you?" I asked while wiping my hands on the black apron wrapped around my torso. I looked up, and saw a boy sitting in a booth, his dark hair dripping on the table as he looked down at the small menu we offered.

After hearing my voice his head lifted up to me, and his eyes stared back at mine blankly. They were green, and they shone brightly even in the dim lit room. He didn't look happy, even when I attempted to smile at him. He looked back at the menu, and at first I thought he was just ignoring me, when he said, "One cup of coffee, black." His voice was cold, and after a moment he added, "Please." I nodded, and skittishly walked back to the kitchen. I started to make his order when my grandma came out of the pantry.

"Ivy, what are you doing?" Her voice was quiet and frail. Not because she's old though, my mom told me it's always been like that. Not looking at her, I began scooping the beans "What does it look like? I'm making a cup of death."

I heard her sigh, before lightly smacking the back of my head. "Try not to sass me dear." I laughed, before explaining further. "There's some guy I've never seen before in there. He asked for a cup of black coffee." I made a face. I've only tried coffee once before, and it was filled with sugar and creamers and it was still terrible. I couldn't imagine drinking it with nothing.