LVI | Coffee
❦
It’s my first time
seeing Rowan
express
awe.
The door gives a tinkling laugh
as I hold it open for her.
She steps into
the cafe,
eyes wider than Famous Amos cookies.
The floor is tiled
black and white
like a chess board,
the tables made of thick wood,
paired with dark velvet chairs.
But through the wrought iron and glass shop-front,
it was the bookshelves
embedded
into the walls of the cafe
(obscured by tall potted plants)
that made Rowan gasp.
‘What is this place?’
Her voice is hushed
even though other people are talking.
Jazz music plays in the background.
Guess she didn’t see
the shop name:
WHIMSICAL COFFEE.
No one greets us
when we enter.
That’s what I like about this cafe.
I let Rowan look around
like a tourist
as much as she
wants to
before pulling her
over
to a table.
As soon as we sit,
a waitress in a brown apron
appears with a menu
and a smile.
‘Welcome to Whimsical Coffee.
‘We serve whatever tickles your fancy.’
‘I’ve never had
‘coffee
‘before,’
Rowan says.
‘Really?’
The waitress beats me to it.
‘You’ll never be able to enjoy instant coffee
‘if ours is your first.’
A wide smile.
(Too wide.)
She looks like a cheshire cat.
How long did she smile
at a mirror
to look like that today?
‘Two lattes please,’
I say.
The smile widens some more.
She retrieves the menu
I didn’t touch
and the one rowan hands to her.
Her eyes are blank.
She walks away.
Rowan puts her elbows on the table,
leans close to the bookshelf
nearest to us.
The books have strange titles.
HOW TO WEAR A SWIMSUIT IN WINTER
THE SCIENCE OF COFFEE
A WORD THAT NO ONE KNOWS
Rowan points to that third title.
‘I think it should be world,
‘not word.’
I pull the book out
and examine it.
‘There’s no space between r and d
‘for that.’
She looks like she wants
to say more
but the grinning
cheshire cat waitress is back.
The coffee comes in
wooden
cups
with wooden
saucers
and wooden
spoons.
The waitress hugs her tray
to her chest.
‘You’ve really never had coffee before?’
Rowan nods,
one hand on the wooden handle
of the cup.
Her hand is so small
—I wonder if
she will be able to lift the cup.
‘My parents only drink tea.
‘So I grew up only drinking tea.
‘The latte art is really pretty.’
The grin widens.
Rowan takes a picture
of the coffee.
Then she tilts the camera up
and takes a picture
of me
and the waitress
in the same frame.
Finally,
she sips the coffee.
A slight wince.
‘It’s not scalding hot like tea.’
The cheshire cat waitress smiles.
‘Because of the milk.’
I glance over
at the waitress.
‘You’ve kept a cat before, haven’t you?’
She looks startled.
(So does Rowan.)
But the wide grin returns.
‘I did. but I fed her coffee
‘and she died.’
Her eyes are sad for a moment.
But when I blink in surprise,
they’re
blank again.
She takes her leave,
disappears behind
a row of potted plants.
Rowan sips her coffee.
Entranced.
‘It’s bitter at first
‘but now I can’t stop drinking it.
‘What if i get addicted?’
I laugh.
I feel like a cheshire cat too.
My mouth stretched so wide
it hurts.
‘It’s only your first cup.
‘Don’t worry about that now.
‘Besides,
‘coffee is good for you.’
❦
