Wednesdays

I first realised that boys were as attractive as girls when I was 17. I was still fat, ugly and annoying then, so I made no move to satisfy my curiosity. But the moment I lost a lot of weight, and discovered I had a fetish for coffee, I tested the new waters. It has been pretty good sailing for me, and over the past three years I’ve been in a few relationships. None of them ever raised any sparks, except for Olivia, but she moved three months into our relationship. A month afterwards I stopped returning her calls or answering her letters, I saw it as pointless.

My relationships never lasted long really, 6 months was the usual. I think it was my attitude that really got to people. That calm, laid-back attitude and the fact that Wednesdays were my days, and no matter how special they were they couldn’t interrupt them. Or it could have been that I didn’t make an effort to engage in conversations in general, which made the majority of my relationships extremely physical, I was fine with that though.

This is going to sound heartless, but after a while I get bored of people. They’ll just keep playing the same old tricks, the same old jokes, the same old phrases, the same old interests. My mind found it hard to focus on humanity, so I let it drift off ‘away with the fairies’ people said. I liked it that way; with my coffee, cigarettes, camera and canvas. That was the life.

Having been some days in preparation,
Splendid time is guaranteed for all,
And tonight,
Mr Kite is topping the bill.

My jeans stuck to my legs as I pulled them on, and I couldn’t help but let a thought that three years ago would have been repeated again and again in my mind. Am I getting fatter? With a frown I looked down at my stomach, and tweaked my skin. Sure enough, I was able to take some fat in between my fingers. My frown deepened, I was getting fatter. I ran a nail down my stomach and sighed, removing my hands and pulling on a plain grey v-neck.

I slunk into the kitchen and picked up the plate from the side, I stepped towards the bin and tilted the plate, allowing the toast to fall into it. It was a shame because I was hungry, but that’s how it had all started, being hungry. Looks like I wasn’t eating today.

God did I need a coffee.

The Beatles came to an abrupt halt as I switched the CD player off, and I already missed the soothing music. I grabbed my grey cardigan and tied up my standard black Chuck Taylors. Once I had tackled the 6 flights of stairs to the bottom floor I stepped outside onto the uniform grey pavement, and into the cold winter air.

Winter was one of my favourite seasons. I didn’t particularly like cold, but I liked the way that the moment I stepped inside everything would be so warm and welcoming, even if at any other time in the season it wasn’t. And more specifically; I liked how it felt to step into Joes early on a Wednesday morning and be hit by the smell of Coffee, and the feeling of warmth soaking into my skin.

I stopped outside Starbucks and pushed my hand into my coat pocket, checking I had money. As expected the cold surface of pound coins brushed against the end of my finger tips, I instantly with-drew my hand. Every night I slipped a few pounds into my coat pockets; the day I slid my hands into my pockets to find nothing would be a very odd day indeed.

A strong smell of warm, sugary coffee hit my nose the moment I entered Starbucks, swamping my senses with the thickness of it. I couldn’t decide whether it was pleasant or not; it was coffee, but it wasn’t good coffee. It was cheap, mainstream coffee, not good-quality, specially ordered coffee. The sugar drowned out the bitterness the smell should have glorified in, so it didn’t smell like coffee.

So I didn’t like it.

Spencer was leant up against the counter, watching the customers lazily while his fingers absentmindedly traced plan-less patterns into the industrial white surface. His dark chocolate eyes snapped towards me as I approached the counter, a smile pulled at the edges of his lips as he stood himself up taller and looked my way, the feeling of routine dripping from his every movement.

“The usual” I told him, pushing a few pounds onto the counter and resting my hip against it.

“Yes sir” answered Spender, lifting his hand to his head in a salute and flicking back his black hair from his face, the tugging at his lips becoming a fully formed smile. Spencer was the person always working when I came to get my morning coffee, it was only obvious that one day we would talk and become acquainted with each-other. Which has happened last year. That day I had decided that since I was early, I might as well drink my coffee in the shop until I had to head to work, so I had sat myself down at a table and leant back enjoying my coffee. Spencer had then minutes later appeared in the seat opposite me and introduced himself. At first I hadn’t been sure what to say, but Spencer was incredibly social for someone up this early in the morning and quickly accepted I wasn’t the talking type, seemingly satisfied with leading the majority of the conversation.

Every day since then Spencer had dragged me into a small 10 minute conversation while I sipped at my coffee. It’s not like I was complaining, Spencer was one of the few humans I actually enjoyed the company of. I liked the way he didn’t try and pry into my private life, but was content to tell me all about what was happening in his life, and dive into interesting stories friends had told him, or things he had experienced. If I had been anyone else, it would have been safe to say I had a crush on Spencer.

He wasn’t exactly hard to look at with dark locks of thick hair, happy-go-lucky chestnut eyes, a slim body and a lazy, attractive smile. And his personality was compatible with anyone’s, even mine.

But because it was me, it was unlikely I would ever act on my feelings. Spencer could ask me out on a date, but I wouldn’t ask him, I never asked people out.

Life was just too long to try and find love, love in my case has to get off its lazy ass and find me.