Cup of coffee
"Hey. Rhyne. Rhyne!"
I'm jerked back to the present, my mind a jumbled mess. What time is it — I look at my watch, it's 3:35 pm — did I really go that long just staring at the rain? How must I have looked to her — caught off guard and alone with my thoughts in this empty coffee shop, the only sound the stream of rain, and the occasional clang of the door chimes in the wind.
"You here to wait out the rain too?"
"Yeah. It seems to be taking its time though."
"You expecting someone?" she asks.
"No."
I hold back a sigh, I came to this coffee shop to be alone with my thoughts, to take a break, and now she's here, yet another face I'll have to deal with. I'll have to pretend to be interested again when all I want is some peace. But her smile is warm and her eyes inviting, and somehow — I can't find it in myself to look away.
She raises an eyebrow, glances down, and smiles, and I realize I've been staring for too long. The familiar aroma of coffee permeates and I suddenly feel very warm. I lean back to increase the space between us, and realize, she had been holding out a cup of coffee for me.
Damn.
I didn't think it would be this awkward.
But her smile betrays nothing, her eyes still hold the same warmth as they did moments ago, and I hold out my hands to take the steaming cup from her.
She smiles and there it is again, those almond eyes, those dimpled cheeks, that got me so undone. Samantha — once we were almost lovers. But she is just now Sam, a memory I look back on with fondness. And now that memory is here in the flesh, her hair partially drenched and a peach jacket around her shoulder.
"Thanks, but you really didn't need to."
"I know, but I wanted to. Oh, I don't mean to intrude, it was cold outside and I thought I'd come in, then I saw you sitting here, and thought maybe I should join you. I'm sorry. You don't mind, do you?" she moves to wipe her rain-soaked hair away from her face, it's so dark, with a sheen that reminds me of a raven's feather.
"No, it's fine. I wasn't busy anyway." I reply
"Umm may I?" she gestures to the empty seat beside me.
"Sure."
She settles in beside me, far enough for me to breathe, to forget momentarily that I'm not alone. She stares out in the rain and leaves me to my thoughts. I drift away again, but all the while aware of the smell of her perfume, how it seems to have grown sweeter mixed with the scent of the jasmine tea she holds between her hands. She seems lost in thought too. I wonder, if she, like I, came here not to take shelter from the rain, but to seek shelter within herself? To forget the world and for once, just enjoy its solitude. Or did she come here, to make me come undone again?
"How's the teaching going?" I try to cut the ice, engage in small talk like she used to tell me. "Try to be nice, Rhyne" she used to say. I wasn't very social back then, I still am not now. But God forbid I let us both sit this one out awkwardly.
"I teach preschoolers now".
"How is it?" I ask
"Well, I love the children, and they like their teacher Sam. It's stressful, but it grows on you. And they can be very sweet" she replies.
"How about you Rhyne? Are you still working on that novel?"
"I put it on pause. Right now, I'm trying to find a job, one that will pay the bills that need to be paid - ASAP." We both chuckled at the last word.
"Ah, I see. Well I hope you never give up on it "
She takes a sip of her jasmine tea. The scent of it mixes with the smell of wet earth, producing a deep, earthy aroma with a lemony tang. It permeates the air and stays, thick and heavy, like the questions I want to ask, the words unspoken and can't be spoken, for they are 2 years too late.
"Have you ever heard of the song Tilted by Christine and the Queens?" She asks, cutting me from my thoughts.
"Only Saint Claude", I reply.
We end up spending most of the time talking about music. She plays her favorite songs and talks about new artists she's discovered. Florence and the Machine, Christine and the Queens, The 1975. She shows me a video of her teaching one of the children how to play the piano. It's a little boy, awkward, hands clumsy, but determined. Her gentle encouragement is apparent, and the boy looks to the camera and smiles.
I tell her of my recent travel to Malaysia, of my job application to a publishing house.
We end up talking for hours, treading down the path of familiarity, finding each other again, remembering things we thought we had forgotten, tracing old footprints, but treading safely, cautiously. There's a wall between us now, limiting what we can say, making us both wary of what topics we delve into. But it doesn't stop the feeling of comfort, doesn't stop us from easing into each other as if we were always meant to fit. It's as if nothing's changed. Almost.
We talk, and then we stop talking. We breathe in the silence, like old friends around a campfire, or lovers on a park bench, content with doing nothing, fulfilled in each others' company. It's nice. Nice to feel yourself slowly unfolding like a crumpled sheet that just won't give in. Just us, two people enjoying the silence in its wholeness, having each other to themselves, even for just a moment. Just like the old days. Just like before. Before everything turned to shi—.
I sigh.
The rain has stopped. My coffee has gone cold.
"Umm, it's getting late. I'll have to go now. I'm sorry to cut this moment short when we just met again,"
"It's alright. Thanks for the coffee, Sam."
"I really enjoyed today. And I'm glad I got to see you again. Goodbye Rhyne," she lightly puts her hand on my shoulder in a parting touch.
"Me too, Sam. Goodbye."
The doorbell chimes again and just like that she is gone. I feel warmer somehow even though I didn't get to finish half of that coffee. It's 6:30 and I've got a bus home to catch. I guess I really should start going. But the memory of her hand on my shoulder, the feel of it, I shudder. How long has it been? Two years. Two years and we end up meeting again in this lonely coffee shop. I chuckle.
We have been brought together, like the earth and rain, and when the rain stops falling, we go our own separate ways. Two people intersecting for one moment in time, to go their separate lives once more.
