Coffee Shop Blues

She's so beautiful.

She's the only reason I come to this shop. Just so I can see her, talk to her, maybe even get her to crack a smile.

Her name is Maria. She's intelligent, too. She's taking some type of course at the nearby University. Says she'll use it to gain money for her real dream. To own her own coffee shop.

I'd buy a plane ticket there everyday, even if she had that shop on the other side of the world.

“Hey Jim! How are ya? Did you finish your essay on time?” She asks with curiosity, and just a hint of laughter.

“Yes, yes I did in fact. Took me a couple of hours though. Can you tell?” I say, gesturing to my face.

“You look like my great aunt Sue. She's dead. I never knew dark circles could go past your nose...” She says while her eyebrows shoot up.

I love her eyes. They're so deep and beautiful.

“Here, let me fix you up, it's a slow morning anyways.”

We set up at a little table near the counter. She cracks open a container of concealer, and proceeds to gently dab it on my face.

I stare into her eyes again. She looks so determined, like her life depends on me not looking like something out of the sewers.

“You want a little bronzer too? Hair gel? Lip gloss?” She says with a smile.

“Nah, just a chickway.” I reply.

“What's a chickway?” She says, clearly confused.

“'bout three or four pounds.” I say, giving her a toothy grin.

She laughs. I love making her laugh. It sounds like wind chimes, or something equally as clear and pure.

“Ok there Mr. I'm So Funny, you want the usual?” Maria says, clearing up the table and getting back to work.

“You bet, maybe a little stronger? I really didn't sleep last night...”

“No.” She looks at me with such seriousness, it startles me.

“You will either pee or run around like a hamster in a paper bag. No.”

I sigh, “Fine, the usual.”

This goes on for another five months. Until the conversations that changed everything.
I'm simply eating my breakfast, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Maria walks up to my table and says,

“I'm leaving. Not now, but soon. The owner's a jerk. I'm also going abroad for a bit, doing an internship in Columbia. Hopefully we'll meet again, I'll bring back a bag of Columbian roast.” She tries to end on a positive note.

I'm devastated.

“I'm leaving in about three months. I leave here in one. Hey, cheer up! We've still got the internet!” She tries again.

I stand up and leave.

As soon as I walk out the door, I know what I have to do. I have to ask her out, go with her, something. Or else she'll just remember me as, 'That loyal customer.'

One month later, I'm tearfully saying goodbye. I'm an idiot. I'm too chicken to ask Maria out. I can't muster up twenty seconds of courage. I've failed. No matter how much contact information she gives me, it won't work. It just won't.

It's been four years now. I'm about to pee my pants. I'm so nervous for this job interview. It might be my big break. I spot a coffee shop, it's new. The line's short, so I enter.

Then, a million emotions, thoughts, memories burst into my mind.

Maria.

She's there. She's the owner. I run up to her and say,

“Maria, please, please, go out on a date with me. I should have said that four years ago, I should have done so many things, please.” I'm looking at her with such sad eyes, her eyes
tear up.

“You jerk, I even saved that bag of coffee for you.” She smiles, I laugh.

I jump over the counter and give her the biggest, strongest hug there is.

We went out that night. And many nights after that. I've always been a coward, so she was the one to ask me to marry her. We had kids, who had kids. Now we spend afternoons on our porch, reminiscing about the past. Oh, I got the job.