Peppermint

“What can I get for you?”

Eve worried a corner of her scarf and scanned the board behind the counter. She couldn't stand black coffee, but it was usually a safe bet.

“Um. Coffee?”

“Latte?” The barista turned her head to look at the board behind her. She had a sleek ponytail dyed a deep, gothic shade of red and black plastic hoops her ears, stark against her skin.

“Just… normal, please. A small.” Eve stammered. She’d just have to load it up at the cream and sugar bar. It was cold, she was tired, and all she wanted to do was find a soft chair in a corner and doze to the warm hum of caffeinated regulars.

It had been such a long day. She’d been up before the sun to get to her first sit, an energetic border collie whose people were spending the worst month of the year in the Maldives. She’d been steadily increasing the length of Connie’s walks, but even so, she was greeted by a newly beheaded stuffie more often than not. She was grateful Connie hadn’t yet made any messes on the carpets or wrecked anything that couldn’t be replaced on a quick run to Walmart.

After an hour with Connie, Eve had gone to her next series of visits, two cats and one very small, friendly, elderly corgie whose person worked at the courthouse and was often away from home for twelve-plus hours. Eve had been sitting Mrs. Piggle Wiggle for several months now. She was one of her favorites, not the least because of how happy Mrs. Piggle Wiggle always seemed to see her. Not desperate like Connie; just happy, like an elderly lady at the nursing home who loved nothing more than gossiping with the nurses about the antics of her bingo friends.

Then she went to the library and submitted a few more resumes to random jobs on the library computers. When she’d first started applying for jobs after art school she’d targeted graphic design, advertising firms, paid internships at game companies. But as the rejections kept rolling in she widened her reach, applying to retail, reception, call centers, anywhere she thought they might take her.

The pet-sitting had been a quick, off-hand thing, a profile she’d made the middle of night after waking up in a cold sweat two months ago. It was doing better than she’d expected, and so far her most steady source of work. It had been a cold January, which meant more people than usual taking even longer vacations.

“That’s $5.50,” said the barista with the red hair.

“…just for the coffee?”

“One small drip?”

“Yeah, small?”

“$5.50.” The Barista’s sounded bored. Long, slender fingers painted with black chipped nail polish tapped into the payment machine and spun it towards her. “When you’re ready."

Eve hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t have $5.50 in her account. It was just a several-dollar increase from what she had expected. Why couldn’t these trendy coffee places make their prices more obvious? Her pet sitting money hadn’t cleared yet, and she’d just paid her rent, and replaced several of Connie’s toys that week, and done a quick run to the drugstore, which had also turned out to be much more expensive than expected. But the barista was still pinning her with a dead-eyed stare, and there was a lady in a parka behind her starting to huff at the delay. So she dutifully opened her phone and tried to scan the register. It wasn’t like she couldn’t…

After a delay that felt like forever, the tablet pinged.

Card declined.

“Sorry,” she tried to smile. “Can I try again?"

The barista, still unsmiling, spun the tablet around to reset the charge.

The second time, the pause after she tapped her phone to the tablet felt like the longest Eve had ever experienced in her life.

Beep.

Card declined.

Eve felt hot tears of embarrassment prickle and a hot flush creep up her neck. She heard another huff from the lady behind her, and the murmurs of the people who had lined up behind her, wondering what was holding up the line.

“Sorry,” Eve stammered again, “sorry…”

The barista waited. Eve could almost feel the waves of disgust coming off of her, the lady behind her, everyone. Quit holding up the line.

“Sorry,” she said, again, “never mind. I’ll just… go,” she gestured vaguely. “I’ll... over here.” And she stepped to the side, face burning, hands shaking.

The barista tucked a wisp of hair firmly behind her ear. She spun the tablet back toward her and tapped on the screen again. She looked up at the lady behind Eve, now standing impatiently in front of her. “What can I get you?”

Eve took several deep breaths. It had been such a long day. Such a long day. She’d barely seen the sun, and now it was barely 5:30 and it was dark, and she’d left the house in the dark, and she’d need to go back and walk Connie again soon and see if she’d destroyed anything new, and send the owners a chirpy message through the pet sitting app about how she had been so good! Look what a happy girl! All while fighting for her life to keep their house intact because they had a border collie in the city and were also in the Maldives.

She slunk toward a corner chair with a low table, setting her bag down with a sigh. She opened her bank app with a niggling sense of dread, chest tightening at the little red minus sign next to her balance. Overdrawn. Only by thirty cents. But still. She was officially in the negatives.

Eve pulled her coat up to hide her chin, and sunk even deeper into the soft armchair, allowing her hide her face and let a few tears fall.

How had it come to this? What had she done wrong? She was doing everything she could think of.

Maybe her sister was right, and she was wasting her time. But Mica had married a law clerk back home, where everyone knew her, and was planning to stop working as soon as she had babies.

That had never been Eve’s plan. She’d wanted make art, however she could. She didn’t care how; she thought she’d been practical, majoring in graphic design and heading for the city, where the promise of endless business and good connections beckoned.

She supposed it was time to move home. Back to their small town, back to everyone knowing her, back to no one to talk to about art, anime, or video games with, back to the exactly zero public queer spaces and the small, cliquey, cagey LGBTQIA+ community she’d grown up around. She wasn’t supposed to need help; she was the practical one, the one who hustled and went to school, and worked. And she had. And she did. But she was so tired.

A tear rolled down her nose and dropped off the end, onto the now-black screen of her phone.

“Hi.”

She looked up, startled, sniffing and hastily wiping her eyes. It was the barista, the one with the red hair and the black jewelry and chipped nail polish. She was holding a paper cup.

“This is for you.”

Eve looked at the cup in confusion. The barista held the cup out for her to take. Eve reached for it, automatically.

“But… I don’t think this is mine, I didn’t…”

“It’s for you,” the barista said again. Her name tag read, “Sarah.” She looked at the floor, and said, “It’s just peppermint tea. And hot water. But it’s cold out. And it's just $2 for a teabag.”

Eve cradled the hot cup against her will. The warm cardboard felt so good. An emotional balm, as well as a physical one “I didn’t…”

Sarah shrugged, still looking at the floor. “It’s fine.”

Eve’s eyes filled with tears, again. She sniffed, and blinked. This was so embarrassing. “I'll can’t,” she said, even as she pulled the cup into her chest to feel the warm steam.

“It’s fine,” said Sarah, sounding annoyed, still looking at the floor.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear,” Eve said.

Sarah shrugged. “It’s two dollars. It’s fine. It’s cold. It’s fine.” She began to turn away.

“Sarah?” Eve said. Sarah turned, eyes meeting Eve’s for the first time that evening. They were green, with a ring of hazel around the center, lined by smudges of black.

“Thank you,” said Eve.

Sarah shrugged again, but as she turned away, the corner of her mouth lifted in a shy smile.