Wonder-full Coffee
“Welcome to Starbucks, what can I get for ya today?”
Brian felt his pulse quicken. The edges of his vision blurred. He kept his gaze locked just below the tousled onyx hair that hung over the man’s forehead. Close enough to his eyes that it gave the illusion of actually making eye contact.
He’d come in at the same time every day for the past two weeks in a vain attempt to pique the curiosity of this single barista. After the first week he’d managed to construct a rough timetable of the guy’s shifts.
Monday-Thursday, afternoons…around 1 to 5. Yup, I’m a total stalk—
“Oh hey! Venti breve iced mocha with 2 pumps of caramel ya?”
Brian was dumbfounded.
Not a big deal, I’ve been in here every day for the past God-knows-how-long. Be cool, Ringo, BE COOL! There ya go, nod your head. We don’t want to look like a complete retard.
“You want an extra shot of estrogen in that too, you big pussy?”
The antagonizing remark came from behind Brian, right from the mouth of his friend Nate.
He robotically removed his debit card from his wallet, the same card that was emblazoned with the GLAAD logo. He’d hoped it would tip the barista off. Actually, he’d hoped it would scream something along the lines of:
‘SEE! Gay, right here. Yup!’
‘Gay!’
‘I like boys!’
‘Woo Marriage Equality!’
Even though everything else was contrary to the stereotype:
‘No, I know, I’m not that fashionable.’
‘Hair looks like shit this morning, not a fan of product!’
‘Ya, these pants are pleated; and no my shoes do NOT match my belt.’
“You’re a member too? Hey, you know what, this one’s on me. It’s kinda nice to see another member of the club here in the middle of Hickville.”
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, shit shit shit shit shit, ohmygod. Breathe, breathe. Whew, deep breaths. Words, use your words, come on, you’re a big boy. USE YOUR WORDS!!!
“Th-thanks. I mean, I really appreciate it. That’s really nice of you.”
The barista smiled and handed him a receipt.
“Sign this for me please.”
Even though he was left-handed, Brian scrawled out what looked like two big swirls and a series of squiggles with his right hand, keeping a death-grip on the pen the entire time to keep himself from shaking.
“And here’s your copy; I’ll have that drink out for you in just a sec.”
Brian looked down, at the bottom edge of the customer receipt, in perfect cursive script it read:
“We should grab dinner sometime. Call me. ~Britt (942) 753-6228”
He stood there for 5, 10, 20 seconds. Then Brian felt a tingling in back of his leg. After a moment it started to sting a little.
--
“Dude, come on. Hurry the hell up and order. HELLO! We have a meeting in 5 minutes you jackass,” a voice echoed.
Nate was kicking the back of Brian’s leg.
The barista looked confused.
“Um, sir. Welcome to Starbucks…do you need some help ordering?”
Brian spat out the words—asking for a grande bold roast—handed the barista a wad of $1 bills, then retreated to the corner of coffee shop until his drink was ready.
He held the door for Nate on their way out of the building. He dared a quick glance back at the barista, and for a moment thought he saw the fleeting glimmer of understanding in the young man’s eyes. And then, a wink.
**all fiction is property of the author and EAL Magazine, please do not use or copy in any form without permission**
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