When You Are Not the Starring Role In Someone Else's Heart

I was 19 when I first met Coy. I had been playing acoustic in this coffee shop, Of Monsters and Mocha (I'm not even kidding) in Reykjavík. He walked in, talking on his cell phone. His shades covered his eyes and his scarf masked his mouth. He sat down in the back, and somehow he struck my eye. He didn't even make contact with me, but I desperately wanted him to. I wrapped up the show a little early, which I think didn't bother anyone. It's not that I'm bad at what I do, it's just that nobody cares. Either that or they were disappointed to find me singing instead of Nanna, the actual genius behind Of Monsters and Men. That what I was expecting walking into this place. But, I needed a job if I was going to stay in Iceland. And I was in Iceland.. well... because I was stuck there.
After dropping out of high school in New York to follow a boyfriend to the city and getting my heart stomped on, I decided to do the whole 'backpacking around Europe' thing everyone talks about doing. I started in Ireland and wanted to just stay there forever, but found myself loving England and Wales even more, and then I found myself going to France and Belgium and Germany and eventually Greenland and Iceland off of $200 and a backpack. I just got odd jobs and sang at rundown bars until I could move on to the next country.
After I was done singing, I grabbed a cup of coffee and a muffin, my earnings for the afternoon. And like a magical dream come true, he approached the counter and ordered some fancy soy-whip-non-fat kind of drink. Those frilly girly drinks I can't stand. If you want coffee, order coffee! The barista, Bjorn, turned to me and rolled his eyes taking his order. After he made the drink, he turned to me and jokingly said, "Another sold show, I see. Don't run off on us now and become a huge pop sensation."
"Well, I'll never forget you little people," I said sarcastically, sipping my coffee.
"You really did sound great," the mysterious guy piped up from across the counter, "It was no Nanna Bryndis, but your rendition of, 'Love Love Love' was top notch."
"Thanks!" I blushed, "and you are?"
"Sequoia. Sequoia Harvard," he said, scooching closer to me and Bjorn, "but I'd rather you call me Coy." I held out my hand and said, "Nice to meet you. I'm Madelyn. Madelyn Lambrini. You can call me Madelyn Lambrini."
He reached out and shook my hand. We started talking about Icelandic music and the small festivals we've attended. He was from Wales but his parents moved to Iceland for some job offer and he never left. I told him my story of coming from upstate New York to wandering around Europe for the past three years. He was in awe. He couldn't believe I hadn't seen my parents since I was sixteen. And then I had to explain they had died in a car crash when I was fourteen. I had been living with my passive aggressive aunt who either didn't give a shit when you were coming home or violently pushing you to your room for a brutal grounding. I couldn't wait to leave!
"That's an impressive story, Madelyn Lambrini,'' he said, finishing his girly drink. He had that playful tone in his voice and I couldn't see behind his glasses but I assumed there was a twinkle in his eye. He looked at the clock on the wall and grimaced.
"I gotta get going. I hope I see you around," he said, pushing his thumbs into the pockets of his dark-wash jeans.
"I play every afternoon at four and Tuesday and Thursday nights at 9," I said, trying to find his eyes through his tinted glasses.
"Good to know," he said smiling. He walked out of the shop with his thumbs in his pockets and his scarf back over his mouth. And from that moment on, I was hooked on Sequoia Harvard.