Tonight I walked into my house after a long day at work; bypassed the kitchen to the bedroom where I slipped out of my work clothes into something more comfortable. I walked over to the bar grabbed a bottle of Plymouth Gin and concocted myself a nice beverage. As I took a sip of my Aviation cocktail I stood there contemplating whether or not I should make dinner. I shrugged my shoulders and walked right over to my laptop. I put Iron & Wine on the Pandora station and before I knew it my Word application was open and my fingers began typing away. My mind was repressed and then I realized I had three pages filled with words and my cocktail was no more.
What brought me back to reality were the aches I felt in my stomach. It was almost as if I was punched in the gut and and the sensation traveled to my anus. My mouth became dry and it felt as though a sock was stuffed down my throat. My chest became heavy and I noticed that every inhale through my nostrils was cold as if I was standing outside on a frigid January night. I stared at the blinking cursor on my screen while I tried to pull it all together. I couldn’t depict if I was nervous, hurt, or longing for something or someone. It is an indescribable feeling, which is very odd you see, because I am all too familiar with this feeling. In fact I experience these symptoms almost every time I write. So you would think I could better describe what it is or where it comes from.
It drives me to make another cocktail in hopes that it would suppress my emotions, but no, the feelings stay and I continue typing away.
I took in a few deep breaths before removing my keys from the ignition as if I were about to submerge myself under water for more than two minutes. There it was. It never fails. This butterfly sensation in the pit of my stomach every time I turn my Volvo off to go inside this cafe. The sensation reminds me of my first kiss with Sara back in the 9th grade; however this butterfly sensation includes a slight twisting feeling of my intestines. As I got out of the car my palms and fingers suddenly began to sweat profusely. While closing the door to my vehicle I wiped my hands off one by one on my black slacks and started towards the door. Though drying my hands of their clammy substance didn’t seem to resolve the issues of my drenched armpits or that my legs feel like they’re about to give out from underneath me. Lord please let my sweat not show through this blue Oxford of mine -how embarrassing? I sure hope she’s on the other side of this door today.
I walk inside the boisterous cafe and to my excitement there she is right behind the counter. The line is long and she seems to be occupied with her Barista filled duties brewing up lattes and cappuccinos for those weary of having to conquer yet another Monday. I don’t mind when the cafe is busy or the long lines for that matter because it gives me more time to admire her beauty. She’s tall and thin with olive skin and her dusty brown, wavy hair matches her tones perfectly. Her eyes are round and brown and filled with life when she looks at you. Her jaw is defined nicely enhancing her dimples and her perfect kissable lips. Oh how that smile makes my heart melt leaving me mesmerized for a few hours after leaving this cafe.
I will never forget the first time I met her. It was after Memorial Day and I had just got back from the beach and my face was starting to peel. I excused my appearance and she told me not to worry because she too was peeling. We somehow sparked up a conversation that lasted for almost an hour. Luckily she was in a position where work wasn’t overwhelming and I was able to receive her undivided attention. Ha, I remember she told me two jokes that day. I’ve never had anyone tell me a joke other than when I was a child so I was in complete awe. It was bar humor of course -one about a duck walking into a bar and for the other, Ha, she put on the cutest Irish accent and continued on about a gentleman requesting 3 Guinness stouts from the bartender. I laughed and smiled so much throughout our hour of small talk that my cheeks were sore and I didn’t realize how late I was for work.
From that moment on I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Our personalities meshed so well and we had so many things in common from scotch spirits all the way to the shared love of literature. I knew once I left that cafe I had just met my soulmate and I had to see her again. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about her. Though my daydreaming always brought a smile to my face and still does to this day. I began to think this must be lust because how can one yearn for another being this strongly after just meeting them.
My thoughts faded away as I notice her looking up at me from her espresso machine with those bright eyes, “Hey there! How are you doing on this lovely Monday morning? Oh -did you happen to catch the World Cup last night?” I smiled back and nodded my head, “I’m well and yourself? I only watched the last half but I’m stoked to see that USA is still in the game.” I finally make my way to the counter and order my hazelnut cappuccino from the cashier and to my surprise I look over at the barista station where my order has already been prepared. As she handed me my drink to go I thanked her and told her she should make one for herself on account the morning rush of coffee drinkers has only just begun. She smiled and told me how she enjoyed herself a cup of joe with a long drag outback of the cafe enjoying the first half of the sunrise. I smiled and envied her for a moment. A drag? I thought. It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those. As I walked out I told her to enjoy the rest of her day and that I’d hope to see her tomorrow.
“Ugh! Why did I say that?” I yelled aloud as I kicked a penny that had lied along the sidewalk. Why do I do this to myself? Why must I torture myself? Why must I walk in to this forsaken place multiple times a week just to see her and nothing else? During the battle with myself I watched the penny travel on the asphalt towards my tire as I drew closer. I’ve got to learn to stay away! Maybe go to another cafe because I can’t handle this sick puppy feeling I get in the pit of my stomach every time I leave out that damn door. The feeling of knowing we could be nothing more than just a customer and his barista. Come on Scott! You have a girlfriend in your life who loves you and you love her too. I stopped a moment before getting into my vehicle and mumbled under my breath, “but not like I love her.” Once I got into my vehicle I slammed my door shut and rested the back of my head on the car seat. Eyes closed with a few breaths I ask aloud to whoever is listening, “Why did I ever have to meet her at this cafe?”