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“They will probably ask about the Beats,” Abigail adds counting off on her French manicured nails, I’d only recently noticed. “I think you should just know who they are, Keurac, Ginsberg, maybe Kauffman. Oh! And you should probably memorize Howl--:”
“I refuse to memorize a whole poem.”
Her bubbliness doesn’t wear off. I can tell she’s loving this.
“Fine. Yeah, it’s long anyway. Just remember this stanza; I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,” She concedes.
“Wait, is this poem about drugs ?,” I ask sipping my pre-shift butterscotch-hazelnut hot chocolate. It was my own custom drink, I had to jump behind the counter just to make it right.
“Well, sure. The Beats did a lot of that stuff, “ Abigail says pushing a book of Emily Dickinson towards me.
I lean in closer to the table.
“Hey, did you know Jonah’s Dad was a heroin addict ?,” I whisper because I just have to discuss this and I know Abigail won’t tell anyone.
Well...can’t.
“No,” she replies, looking just as shocked. “You know it never says in How My Light is Spent exactly how he lost his vision. Maybe that’s how ?”
“Does heroin take your vision ?,” I wonder.
She shrugs and starts flipping through the book awkwardly. I get it, we probably shouldn’t be talking about Jonah’s family behind his back, but I can’t help it.
“Hey, Abigail,” I think out loud. “Would you rather be deaf or blind ?”
“I’d rather be alive,” she retorts quickly.
“Come on. Don’t play the dead girl card. Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it.”
“I don’t know. Deaf I guess. I like to read… you like music, so I guess you’d rather be blind.”
“Maybe.” I say. “I mean theoretically it seems great, looks really wouldn’t matter, but it would make getting around a bitch.”
“This is a horrible conversation,” she says uncomfortably. “Let’s get back to the Beats.”
I slam my head into the table.
“I just can’t get into this. It all feels so god damn pretentious.”
“Well, so, then why did you make it one of your concentrations in the trivia contest ?”
“It wasn’t really my choice. Not much else was left.”
“I thought you thought the contest was lame. Why are you even entering ?”
That had been a long story that I couldn’t tell her all of. After I blacked out a Halloween party (0-2), dry humped Jonah the First Son of Eastham and got my hungover ass back to the dorm to find a pissed of Sev sleeping on the couch with her phone in her hand. I’d kind of taken off with Abigail without letting anyone know where I was.
“We were supposed to go back together,” Sev had told me in a huffy voice when we saw each other at work the next day since I slept through Saturday.
“It’s no a big deal,” I’d told her. “You owe me some money, by the way. You called my phone like a million times and you know I have a cap on minutes.”
“You scared us--,” she’d started. “I mean, Zain took that thing about walking us all back seriously. He like went door to door to find you. He even called Phillip.”
“Sorry.” I had sighed. “I’m fine. I get it, you were being good roommates.”’
I felt like an even bigger jerk after I found out we won 2nd place in the costume contest.
Sev cashed in the guilt to get me to fill the final slot on her SEX trivia team, pun totally intended. I’d been left with Mathematical theory, 80’s bands, fast food history and poetry. I could fake my way through the first three, but for the last one I was glad I had Dead Poets Society to help me.
Sev was being so mopey about that night I couldn’t really talk about the kiss with her and I didn’t tell Abigail because I kind of got this vibe she liked Jonah. I mean it was totally weird if she did, but I didn’t want her getting mad at me. Not that she should. I’d meant what I said to him on campus the other day-- I wasn’t in love with him.
“So, how’s the whole grave walking thing going ?” I ask Abigail.
“I’m making progress,” she says brightly.
“Really ?,” I say. I’m not sure if I believe her, but I want details.
“Yeah, but no offense Corinne…it’s just you and Jonah get so excited about things. I kind of want to take this as far as I can on my own. I’ll loop you in when I’m ready. I promise.”
She’d told me the same thing last week, so I just nod.
“So,” she said clapping her hands. “The next most popular will be Transcendentalism--”
“I can’t do anymore of this,” I groan. “My shift is about to start, why don’t you think of some practice questions for next time.”
She nods, but I can tell she is annoyed I’m cutting our session short.
Leaving the books in a pile, I pull myself off the beanbag chair, throw my empty cup in the trash and throw my Thinking Cup apron on. Sev is looking at me particularly distressed as I come to relieve, Ana, our newest barista who has sloppy handwriting so Sev never knows what’s on the cup.
Sev and I aren’t back to where we were before, but when I get to the counter she turns me around so we are both inspecting the coffee containers in the back. The position we take when were about to gossip about customers in the store.
“I will do whatever you want forever if you take counter,” she whispers.
“What now ?,” I ask
“The woman coming up has already ordered 3 drinks that aren’t on the menu with things we don’t even have. And I swear to God she is reading like 50 Shades of Gray or like mommy porn or something over there and she keeps staring at me—“
“If you want to stay in this country you’re going to have to deal with asshole customers,” I remind her. “Remember, just make their lowfat lattes full fat.”
“Come on. I have to get the private room ready for the open mic night info meeting. I’ll do anything.”
“Will you let me out of this dumb trivia contest ?,” I wager
“Well, anything else. I can’t find a new sixth right now and do this open mic night, film society and my short film--”
“You’re so lucky I speak bitchy customer.” I sigh turning around.
Something tells me I could use a favor from Sev.
“Hello ?” an indignant voice calls.
It’s followed by ringing of the small bell on the counter.
Sev scurries into the back and I turn around to see Ms. Bitchy Customer of the day. She’s got this pissed off look on her face and I know her type immediately. She’s wearing short sleeves in November just to show off her sleeves of tattoos, which means she’s one of the pretentious, eccentric types who feels more entitled than everyone.
Her eyes flit up and down over my outfit as she slams her knock off Chanel on the counter and Sev is right, I do see what looks like an erotic romance novel sticking out.
“You may want to write this down,” she says
“I got it,” I said. Working here made memorizing coffee orders an art form.
“Fine. This time I’d like to try a… half sweet chai, two pumps hazelnut syrup, almond milk, some soy and whip cream.”
“Half sweet ?,” I question.
“Yeah,” she says like I’m an idiot and crosses her arms. “Just some water.”
“Okay, that will be--,”
“And toffee syrup. Is that extra ? Whatever, I’ll pay.”
She eyes me as I make the drink and when I give it to her, she takes one sip, says it’s not right and I start over.
“I saw you reading that collection of Emily Dickinson,” she says when I come back up with her drink the second time.
“I’m studying for a thing,” I tell her.
“I love Emily Dickinson. I made my kid read her.”
“8.12,” I tell her total.
She fishes through her street corner designer handbag and I notice a Delta Nu key chain waving on her key ring.
Holy shit.
I stare at her. Delta Nu and a kid who reads poetry ?
She doesn’t look a thing like Abigail, but I still look over to see if Abigail is still there, but she isn’t. BAL could just walked into my coffee shop.
I pray for the woman to pull out a credit card, but she hands me cash. I need to know her name. I don’t even think about what I do next I just say it.
“Um, would you like to sign up for our e-mails ? We give out coupons.” I piece together. I think she can tell I’m lying. I just need her to write her name.
“I already get to many e-mails,” she says, folding her arms.
“Well, I mean, it’s really just one e-mail. One coupon,” I cover. “We’re just testing it. And you can opt out.”
“Can I just pay for my drink ?"
I ring up her cash as slow as I can trying to figure out how to see her ID. I could just knock into her purse, take it and run. I could call Phillip, he might do it.
God, I suck.
I hand her her drink and luckily she stays in the café to read her book; Her 12 Hot Nights with Duke X.
I take the hand towel and walking over to her table to start cleaning it absently.
“Hey, um do you know Abigail ?,” I venture.
She looks at me.
“What ? Listen sweetheart, can you please give me some space,” she says quickly.
She sounds close to calling a manager on me so I let it go and go back. Sev is staring at me from the counter.
“What are you doing ?,” she asks
“Do you know her ?,” I venture. Sev tends to know everyone on campus in someway.
Sev just shakes her head.
I’m grateful when Jonah comes in half an hour later. If there is anyone who can get information from a stranger it’s him.
“I’ve never been happier to see you,” I tell him.
“No tips today. I’m just here for that open mic meeting,” he sighs and cuts Sev a pointed glance that she returns with a smile.
“Listen, we have this really bitchy customer but I think she might be related to… your friend Abigail,” I say mindful of Sev watching us.
“What ? Related ? How do you know ?,”
I lean in closer to him, blocking Sev out.
“It’s just a hunch. She might be BAL. She has Delta Nu stuff and she mentioned her kid reading Emily Dickinson, but she’s kind of a bitch and won’t talk to me.”
“If she’s such a bitch how do you know she isn’t going to be a bitch to me ?”
“You have a way,” I remind him. “She’s over there.”
As her turns to go towards her, she starts walking towards the counter.
“Jonah!,” she says.
Of course she knows him.
“Mom ?,” he says and then. “Mom!,”
Her face softens and breaks into a huge smile. They hug.
“Mom, what are you doing here ? Dad said you’re flight didn’t come in until tomorrow !”
“I got an earlier one, I figured I was needed here. It turned the trip into 18 hours, I must look like shit. I had the cab take my stuff home and I was going to come by and surprise you boys at lunch. I have a table over here, oh, hey I want to show you this picture of-- ”
Her entire attitude morphs, suddenly she is all smiles and talking in explanation points
“I can’t I have to go to this meeting,” Jonah says. “Uh, Matty and I are doing this open mic night thing,”
“Oh! Really ?,” She smiles, clutching an iPad. “Aw, Congratulations…wow,that’s so unlike you, baby. When is the show ?”
“You won’t be here,” he says.
She hugs him again.
“Michelle!,” I hear Morris, my manager, call.
I turn to see him walking in and he gives Jonah’s mom a hug too. She’s so small he lifts her off her feet a little. She starts flipping through pictures with him. They start taking excitedly over each other, before she breaks back to Jonah.
“Jonah, I’ll wait for your meeting to be over and we can go surprise E and talk about everything,” she says and then does a double take at me. “Oh, shit I almost forgot.”
She takes a 20$ bill out of her bag and puts it in the tip jar before going back to her table with Morris.
Jonah looks at me with the most amused expression ever.
“You totally called my Mom a bitch,” he whispers
“No I didn’t, I said she was acting bitc—oh, god, I am so, so sorry, I--,” I start and he is smiling. “I just---she ordered—all this crazy shit--,”
“That’s because she used to work here.”
“Okay, well what’s with the Delta Nu keychain.”
“My aunt in Texas is a member. The key chain says a Delta Nu loves me.
“She said her kid read Emily Dickinson, like she only had one, don’t you have a brother--,”
“The jury is out on whether Ethan can read.”
“I am so sorry,” I manage and all I get in return is another crooked smile.
---
A/N
Awkward ending is awkward.
You: Hey Shawa, why don’t we see any pictures of Jonah’s Mom ?
Me: Specifically so I could write this scene.