I flipped open the New York times and scanned my eyes over the multiple columns on who knows what. I could find nearly everything in this section of the newspaper. There were columns on fitness, properly waxing your car, and the multiple reasons to always use the dry cleaners. I was amazed. I read a few lines of each column to dabble my feet in the waters of cynical journalism. I’m not ordinarily a huge newspaper reader. I prefer Seventeen, Glamour, and Home Décor magazines; ok maybe not. I just don’t find much joy in reading something that is probably just going to change tomorrow. Sounds a lot like my life story. I read too far into hints and gestures and they all seem to change.
I took a sip of my coffee and sat back flipping through the rest of the mindless pages of the New York Times waiting for her to arrive. She told me it was urgent so I made it to the coffee shop 3 hours in advance to save a table. I’m paranoid like that. I would rather be some place exceedingly early than show up right on time. Besides, I needed a little time to myself.
I am prepared for anything today. If I’ve mastered the treacherous “feelings talk” in the same old coffee shop, the new boyfriend, tagging along as the prolonged engagement photographer, and watching a near death experience, I think I can handle anything…Almost anything.
The old familiar bell above the door chimes. I look to the counter to see the slacking workers shape back up to action and greet her as she enters the premises…red alert. As she is pacing the store looking for me I stand up and walk over to her. We greet each other with the one-armed hug and walk back over to the table where I am sitting. The first few minutes are small talk. I could tell something was really bothering her. She was really antsy today. But it was the unnerving kind, where she chaotically looked around the room as if she was being hunted by the secret police. It was hard to keep her attention for those first few minutes. I decided to take a bold step and ask: “Is there something bothering you?” I was in somewhat of a cynical mood considering the last memory I had of her was sitting a lone in a coffee shop on New Years Eve, while she was probably dancing the night away in a hospital lobby with a bunch of people dressed in scrubs drinking distilled apple juice from the cafeteria. I hadn’t shaved since then so my unsophisticated look was probably a factor in her schizophrenic behavior.
“I’m trying to find the best way to tell you this” she said, looking down at her hands. Bad news is second nature to me, so I made it a point to try not to show it in my face today. I still had no idea what she was getting at. If there was such a thing as “pacing the floor” while still sitting in a chair, she had it down. Her hands made sudden movements as if she was trying to remember what she had rehearsed hours before our meeting. Her eyes were bouncing off the walls of the room in every which direction, and every so often she would bite her lip searching for the right words to say.
I sat in silence staring right at her, hoping the awkwardness of the situation would con her into talking. After about 10 minutes of silence, she distinctly looked up from her hands and spoke. “I’m moving away,” she told me, as the tears began to flow down her face. “I took a job in Ohio working in the hospital as the head nurse.” She looked down as she continued: “I hope you understand this isn’t just a temporary job…I’m there to stay. They gave me a 5 year contract through the hospital.” I sheepishly smiled trying my best not to let the emotions get to me. I sat silently as the energized room buzzed around me. She looked me in the eye and reached across the table to grab my hand. I was too numb and too slow to pull it away knowing that would be the last time she would ever hold my hand. I looked up and saw the tears rolling down her face. Just then my eyes couldn’t hold it back any longer.
I told myself I would be ready for anything today, I guess I just didn’t expect this. I wished her the best of luck at her new job. I went through the typical spiel about not forgetting to write, and never hesitate to call, and I know you are going to do great things. She smiled at me; knowing how hard this was, she understood that everything I said was genuine. She looked down at her watch subtly trying to indicate that she needed to go. She looked up and took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to ask you…” she said with an intent look on her face. She paused for a moment and began to speak: “…
I closed the lid of my laptop and looked up just as the above-the-door fan conducted a surprise attack on its next victim. Abigale paced the floor of the local Starbucks probably looking for me. I stood up and waved as I made my way over to greet her with a hug. It had been what seemed like ages since we last saw each other. She sat down with a giant smile on her face. “I got accepted!” she told me pulling out the large orientation envelope. “With highest honors,” she continued. I smiled back and said: “that’s phenomenal! Congratulations!” I knew she would make it. It was never a matter of if, but when. She pulled out the large packet of information and read some of the FAQ’s on the back page of the packet. She thrives off of other peoples credibility towards the things she pursues; which really explains why she is going to the college she is. “According to the Harvard review,” she read, “Eastern Providence University was given five stars for academics and five stars for their student life programs; that makes ten stars!” I smiled and tried my best not to laugh.
She continued flipping through the pages of her packet and glanced up to smile every so often. “I’m really nervous,” she told me. I wasn’t sure exactly how to respond. I’ve already been through the first year shakes. Not that I’m an expert on college, seeing as though I’ve only been at it for 2 years now, but somehow I knew she’d be just fine. “College is great. Once you get going, you will have nothing to worry about,” I told her. “It seems like the scariest time of your life at first, but once you get the routine down, it’s not bad at all.” She smiled back as I reassured her she would do fine. “1200 miles away from home is along way,” she said looking down at the packet. I sat back and smiled knowing that is exactly the same thoughts I had in my head at that point in life. I looked down at the large manila envelope placed neatly under the laptop. It was the envelope I was planning on using to send the first draft of story to my old English teacher for edits and suggestions. She saw me eyeing it, and pulled it from its place. “The Caffeine Chronicles (in a low billowy, almost mocking, voice),” she read. I laughed as she continued to read the envelope. “What’s it about?” she asked. I looked back at her and smiled. “Oh it’s just something I’ve been writing on my free time; what little free time there is.” She laughed and placed the envelope back on the table.
“I leave in a few weeks for a preview weekend at school,” she told me. I stared out the window for a few seconds as I tried to picture what life may look like 3 years down the road. It was hard to tell. I was sitting in an Starbucks coffee shop where the bell above the door was replaced with an over-head fan, and the chalk menus were merely expensive looking photo boards, and I wasn’t wearing any baby blue jeans.
She noticed my absence in the conversation and tried to get my attention by talking about a subject that had to do with me. She asked how school was going, how much longer I had, and what I planned on doing when I graduated. I thought back to The Caffeine Chronicles and remembered the job working for the global communications company, and the apartment on the top floor of the complex. I simply looked back and said: “I don’t know just yet, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” (knowing very well that I had) Her phone rang as I finished up my sentence. She stood up and politely excused herself from the table. She came back and apologized for the long phone call. It was her best friend telling her about the school she got accepted into. I smiled and took another sip of my coffee. She glanced down at her watch. I knew from the familiar gesture she was about to tell me it was time to go. I finished the last bit of coffee in the bottom of my eco-friendly paper cup. She grabbed the packet of information and slid it into the large fancy envelope as she told me it was time to go. I uttered sarcastic comments in my head knowing that it always works like clockwork.
As I stood up from the table to grab my things, the large manila envelope fell to the ground. The first page of the Caffeine Chronicles slipped out. Abigale bent down to pick it up. She skimmed aloud over the first few lines: “I turned the corner and opened the door. The bell chimed at the local coffee house indicating to the workers one more caffeine-addicted customer has just entered the premises, red alert. I glare intently at the vast variety of choices outlined by the colorful chalk menu board above the counter…” and then smiled as she slipped it back into the large envelope. “Seems pretty interesting,” she said as she handed me the envelope.
We both walked outside across the parking lot to our cars. It was a bitter cold day in December. The 13th to be exact. As we reached the point where we would go our separate directions she turned and said: “You never answered my question about what the Caffeine Chronicles was about.” I smiled as I zipped up my jacket. Snowflakes began to fall and the sky clouded over. I turned back to her and said: “Maybe one day you’ll know.”
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