Lost in the Woods

It was baffling how small this person’s world must have been to react as if the apocalypse had arrived. More screaming would not fix this tiny crisis, but neither would silence. As the seconds ticked by and the volume of the shrill woman standing before Lane Guster Woods increased, something had to be said. Eventually she would have to pause to take a breath. Maybe then she’d notice the half dozen or so other customers that had gathered around the scene she was solely responsible for? No. Unlikely. More than likely Lane’s patience would expire, he’d lose his temper and end up showing exactly how small this woman’s crisis actually was with a less than polite response.

Red faced and nearly foaming at the mouth, the woman continued to proclaim, “This Caramel Macchiato is dreadfully unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. Undrinkable!”

Lane opened his mouth, almost relieved to get a word in edgewise only for the furious woman to continue screaming. Lane's feet remained planted in the puddle of coffee, milk, and shattered remains of the Dark Owl Vinyl and Brew cafe mug. His black slacks and violet apron were soaked. He ran a a hand through his short auburn hair as the woman's volume increased so sharply and boisterously, it could be heard at the far end of the cafe.

Her cries could be heard past the rows of vinyl record shelves. Her hideous sound made its way to the furthest corner of the library section of the cafe. There was no escaping the banshee like wails as the sound even pierced the supposed noise canceling headphones Luna Appolene Woods was currently wearing.

Peeling the purple headphones off the top of her buzz cut head, Luna stood from her chair and glanced over toward the cafe. Her brother continued to mop up the mess some irate customer had made while they continued to rant and rave. She smiled deviously. Lane was being unusually patient with this howling idiot. Luna could simply turn up the volume on her iPhone and ignore the whole mess, but the temptation to fight alongside her brother was always stronger.

Lane cleared his throat and spoke up over the woman; “Again, Miss, I hear that you’re dissatisfied. How exactly may I help you?”

Unabated, the woman completely flew off the rails, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to make this all go away. Forget this whole thing? How about you stop mopping and listen to me!”

Luna continued to sway through the small crowd that congregated in the cafe. Ever the diplomat, she spoke up in her smooth, subtly French accented English; “We are all listening to you, Miss. It’s nearly impossible to hear anything else. As such, I’ve yet to hear you clearly state exactly what the problem is?”

Enraged, the woman spun around to leer at Luna. The woman’s offense fell as her mad gaze connected with the piercing calm of Luna’s hazel eyes. Drawing a sharp breath, the woman explained, exacerbated, “Five dollars. That’s my problem. I was charged five dollars for my beverage and it was simply terrible. It was the worst thing that I’ve ever-”

Luna raised a hand, “You're dissatisfied with your drink. Fine. Dear brother, care to explain yourself?”

Lane smiled for the first time that evening; “Our guest ordered a Caramel Macchiato and--”

Trying once again to interject, the woman blurted out, “A HORRIBLE Caramel Mac-”

Luna’s controlled, passive voice washed over the woman, “Did you have any special requests?”

The woman drew another sharp breath and sighed, “It was all so simple; Oat Milk, upside down, no vanilla, no foam, and NO caramel drizzle on top.”

Lane bit his lower lip and continued mopping. When he glanced up to meet Luna’s glowing eyes, he found she was having an easier time holding back laughter.

Gesturing toward the espresso bar, Luna asked her brother, “Lane, would you kindly narrate the steps of a caramel macchiato?”

Lane rinsed out the mop head into the bucket on his way back behind the counter. He could feel the dampness of his socks squish inside his combat boots. The dark violet apron he wore was still drenched. No matter how acclimated he was to boiling milk occasionally splashing back on his hands and forearms, having a full sixteen ounces of scolding liquid thrown at his chest was never pleasant.

Upon reaching the bar, Lane washed his hands and withdrew a fresh gallon of milk. As he poured the milk into a metal stein, Lane explained, “For a medium Caramel Macchiato; three pumps of vanilla syrup, nonfat milk steamed to 160 degrees, light layer of foam, two shots of espresso, and topped with caramel drizzle.” Lane finished remaking the drink in time with his instructions and slid the new beverage out across the counter.

The woman whirled around in her designer heels and snapped back, “You’ve already explained that. And my drink didn’t taste like a caramel macchiato at all. It tasted like garbage!”

Luna approached the bar and took the new drink from the counter. She sipped the smooth, thick foamy coffee and gently dabbed her ruby lips with a paper napkin. Slowly swallowing and beaming a million watt smile, Luna repeated, “Your drink didn’t taste like a caramel macchiato?”

Again the woman bellowed, “No! It was garbage.”

Luna repeated slower, almost forcefully, “Your caramel macchiato that you ordered without vanilla, without caramel, and the shots in the incorrect order didn’t taste like a caramel macchiato?”

The woman’s pitch at this point could have been only interpreted by dolphins, “Garbage!”

Luna annunciated each syllable; “Your caramel macchiato you ordered without caramel?” She paused as the crowd began to chuckle underneath their collectively held breath. Luna again let her smile shine, “I just want everyone to hear correctly, you couldn’t taste the caramel you asked not to be in your caramel macchiato?”

Like awakening from a rage induced coma, the woman seemed to suddenly realize the dozen or so patrons standing around her, staring with stifled laughter, filming the scene with their camera phones. Sadly, even as the realization of her error began to dawn, the woman refused to see the sun. Instead, she double downed. With light gleaming off the massive diamond on her crooked finger pointed at Lane, the woman demanded, “You owe me a refund.”

Lane stepped toward the cash register, and reached into the lower compartment.

Luna again spoke up, “I hear your request for a refund. Would you like to hear our counter offer?”

Not recognizing Luna, the woman deflected, “This doesn’t concern you, girl.”

Luna again sipped her coffee while leaning against the counter and raised a finger, “Actually, as a part time employee it does. Furthermore, when my family is threatened, those matters concern me. Since you assaulted my brother during your tantrum, I’d say it’s only fair that we counter your demand for a refund.”

Incredulous, the woman turned to Luna then back to Lane. There was hardly any family resemblance to speak of. Luna’s pearl white skin, dark eyebrows and hair, black mascara, and muted ruby lipstick radiated a glowing French Chic look on top of an athletic build. Lane in sharp contrast was tanned, with a burnt umber crew cut. His physique was chiseled from a 1940’s US Army recruitment advertisement. He was All-American contrasted against an obvious European Elegance. Coincidently, their appearance was not as important to the woman as her coffee, time or money.

The woman once again demanded, “No. You made my drink wrong. My cup slipped out of my hands: an accident. You’ll give me back my five dollars and I am never coming back here again.”

Luna stepped closer to the woman. Still wearing her combat boots from her afternoon ROTC drills, each footstep landed heavy upon the black tile floor. In her even tone, Luna agreed, “That’s right, you won’t be coming back anytime soon.” The woman had to take a step back as Luna almost pressed against her nose to nose; “You see that large, lovely wooden sign above the counter?”

The Woman was hesitant to break eye contact.

Luna gestured up to the sign, “It reads, ‘We Reserve the Right Not to Perpetuate Stupidity.’ Our second youngest sister made it. Excellent craftsmanship if I say so myself.”

Flabbergasted the woman tried to interject, “That is terribly insulting!”

Luna took back command; “As part of the Dark Owl Vinyl and Brew policy, we strive to ensure our guests receive exactly what they asked for. You ordered a caramel macchiato without the ingredients that make a caramel macchiato; you ordered a latte. We made you a latte. We heard your complaints that you couldn’t taste the ingredients you specifically asked not to be included in your drink, insisted your drink was something it wasn’t, and assaulted our staff. As a private business we’ve the freedom to call a spade a spade. Your argument and actions that followed are stupid. Ma'am, we don’t tolerate stupid here.”

From behind the bar, Lane snapped a picture with his Polaroid camera. The flash momentarily startled the woman at just the right moment. As the chemicals gradually developed the photo, it would eventually reveal an utterly bewildered human.

Lane spoke up as he gently shook the photo in his off hand to dry, “As of this moment Ma’am, you’re banned from our store.”

Luna continued, “We’d be happy to remove the ban, but in return for allowing you back into our cafe and not filing a police report for assaulting an employee-”

Lane cleared his throat, “Assistant Manager.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Luna rolled her eyes at Lane; “No assault charge, no ban, and in return all we require is an apology and for you to admit your mistake.”

The woman’s lips flapped up and down, but her shrill cries ceased to fly out. She was stunned. She was furious. The woman’s anger boiled over to the point where she ceased to function. Was this what a stroke felt like? No. It was still anger. Rage. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated by teenagers, cafe workers, or anyone. In an overly exaggerated huff, the woman pushed through the crowd like a bull elephant, threw open the large wooden door at the entrance, and left the cafe never to return again… hopefully.

As the crowd released its collective laughter and returned to their seats, their record selections, their own businesses throughout the cafe, Lane exhaled a sigh of relief. He withdrew a thumbtack out from the miscellaneous supply drawer. The photo had finished developing. It was a truly hideous portrait. Not that the woman was particularly unattractive, but Lane had a modest gift of capturing the truth in a single snapshot; the quantum of inner beauty in any given subject. In this particular case, there was none to speak of. Using the receipt as reference, Lane wrote the woman’s name in the blank space below the photograph and pinned it to The Wall.

Luna, now seated cross legged on the countertop, leaned toward Lane behind the bar. She pointed to The Wall of Stupid behind the counter; “I think that woman deserves top billing don'cha think?”

Lane nodded in agreement. Thankfully, it wasn’t a large wall, but there a half dozen photos already thumb-tacked to a wooden board were six too many. Yet, there they hung under another sign his sister Katrina had crafted in shop class…

“The Wall of Stupid”

Luna finished her coffee and grinned, “Now that’s settled, how about a ride home?”

Lane checked his watch. He still had another four hours until midnight. His shift was only half over and this current mess was still only half cleaned up. He cleared his throat, “I’m closing tonight, Luna. Isn’t mom picking you up?”

Luna slid off the counter and tilted her head to the side; “Mom’s still in Ukraine on assignment with dad till the end of February.”

Making himself a drink, Lane nodded, “That’s right. Still assessing the invasion… Wait! If you’re here, who’s watching Katrina and Robyn?”

Luna shrugged, “They’re watching themselves? They’re in high school. They've lasted this long without burning the house down.”

Pulling out his cellphone, Lane speed-dialed the youngest of his adopted sisters. Trying to calm himself, he reminded Luna; “It’s only been nine months since Katrina almost burnt down the house last time.” The phone continued to ring. He hung up, and dialed again.

Luna reached over the counter and gently put a hand on Lane’s shoulder, “Fire extinguishers were truly the hero that day. Nothing was burned. They’re all fine.”

With a heavy sigh, Lane took a step back as the line connected; “Robyn? It’s Lane, can you-”

An excitable voice chirped over the speaker, “LANE! Hello. Yes. What can I do for you?”

Lane watched Luna fold her arms and roll her eyes. In as calm a voice as he could muster; “I’m just checking in. Is everything okay at home? Are you okay?”

In a rushed reply, Robyn explained, “Well, we’re going to run out of toilet paper real soon. Any kind will do, just make sure you get like a CostCo sized pack. And gloves. We’ll need medical gloves. No, biking gloves would be better. Bread. Cereal. OH! Masks. Could you get some surgical masks, or N96...?”

Lane pressed the mute button to address Luna while Robyn continued to ramble; “You ran out of toilet paper? Seriously?”

Luna wrinkled her nose, “Toilet tissue? No. I bought some yesterday.” Lane looked back at his sister skeptically. Raising her hands Luna suggested, “Maybe Katrina used it all for some experiment?”

Turning his attention back to the phone, Robyn was still rambling, “...’cause I don’t know if people will think to buy their own oxygen. We should get some O2 tanks just to be safe. Sports Authority should still be open for another hour. They have diving equipment. I think? Get a tank. Four. Get four tanks of oxygen, okay? Lane? Are you still there?”

Lane released the mute button, “Robyn, could you put your sister on, please?”

Robyn piped up again, “You got the list though, right? It’s really important that we act fast.”

Nodding his head as he lied, Lane assured her, “Yeah. Please put Katrina on.”

Holding the phone away from his ear as Robyn yelled for her sister, a few seconds passed before another voice answered in a deflated tone; “Yeah?”

Lane asked flatly, “Did you girls really run out of toilet paper?”

With a grim chuckle, Katrina replied, “No. Robyn’s been talking about the end of the world for the last two hours. She wants to stock up. Doomsday hoarder, ya know?”

Lane paused. Robyn was energetic. Hyper. Exceptionally hyper, but also equally brilliant. Even as a freshman columnist for her school paper, the Trigon High Times, she wouldn’t vocally make a wild claim without having done months of research first. Just last semester for her first article, she’d followed a lead that the varsity water polo coach had been abusing the players. Having collected a substantial stack of evidence and written testimony, that lead turned out to be disgustingly true.

But, doomsday prepping?

Maybe Katrina was exaggerating?

Maybe Robyn had finally taught herself how to brew coffee?

Again clearing his throat, Lane refocused to what mattered at the moment; “Are you two safe?”

Katrina scoffed, “Lane, we’re teenagers, not toddlers. Everything’s fine. Relax. Luna with you?”

Relief outweighed his annoyance at Katrina’s snarky attitude; “Yeah, she’s here studying for midterms. Do you need her?”

Katrina laughed, “Nope. Have a good close, Lane. OH, if you’re stopping by the house, bring back those strawberry vanilla scones you make. Thanks.”

The line went dead.

With her elbows resting on the countertop and her chin cradled in her palms, Luna fluttered her eyes at Lane; “Satisfied?”

Lane slid his phone back into the pocket in his work pants; “For now.” Lane pulled out his closing checklist from the side counter. Sure, it was only fifteen minutes past eight, but if the crowd thinned out he could leave early. Hell, he was opening in the morning. He could get away with a half-assed close if he wanted to. Daria wouldn’t even be in till Monday anyway. As far as managers went, she really only cared if money was missing or if someone from the Wall of Stupid had managed to sneak back into the store.

Luna knocked on the counter, “If you wanna close out early, I have my apron in the back. It’d go quicker with two of us working together, right?”

Lane looked up from his notes; “You know you’re scheduled to open with me tomorrow, right?”

Luna shrugged; “Four in the morning? Gross. We might as well just spend the night here then.”

Setting his clipboard and notes aside, Lane tilted his head down to Luna, “Or, you could go home and take care of your sisters like you’re supposed to?”

Straightening up to her full height meant she was still two inches shorter than Lane, but she was tall for a girl and intimidating with her build to match. Intimidating to most, but not Lane. With mock protest, Luna whined, “You heard them. They’re fine. Except for the little one thinking the world is going to end, they’re alive and well... Mostly.” She followed her brother as he pretended to ignore her, striding over to the table at the far end of the library section: Luna’s table.

Lane began packing up Luna’s laptop, books, and notes; “Fine,” he said flatly.

Luna planted her feet, “Fine? That’s all? I’m not moving from this spot, Ursa Major. I’m helping you and that’s final.”

Lane sighed and handed Luna her leather satchel, “If you’re helping, maybe start by grabbing your apron instead of arguing? Is that fine with you, Ursa Minor?”

With a wry smile, Luna took the leather satchel and bounded for the backroom. Sure, the next few hours would be exhausting. Even working in objectively the coolest cafe in New Mexico was hard work. It wouldn’t matter. Luna had waited four years since her brother left home to serve in the coast guard. Finally, they’d actually have time to hang out like they used to. There would be time to talk about nothing; time to reminisce about the fun and trouble they used to get into and ignore the stress of whatever was supposed to come next. They’d finally have time to be themselves.

Lane shuffled back to the bar to grab a broom. His phone vibrated. Katrina had sent him a text...

KATRINA: “SCONES!”

With a half-hearted sigh, he marked her text with a thumbs up. He considered writing something witty in reply; ‘World is ending, we ran out of scones, sorry.’ Instead, he impulsively typed out a thought that had been itching at the back of his mind since Katrina abruptly ended their conversation. He paused a moment before hitting send. It was kinda stupid now that he looked at. Still, curiosity got the better of Lane…

LANE: “Hey, ask Robyn, ’When is the end of the world supposed to happen?”

Surprisingly, not only was there a reply, but it came back almost immediately…

KATRINA: She says, ’The end has already started.”