Caffeine and Sugar
Black coffee just wouldn't cut it today. "May I have a mocha please?" I ask looking somewhere between his ear and eye, then looking immediately at something else. I have learned not to look into their eyes, unless Daddy said I could. Mmmm yes, mocha! I needed something with a bit of flavor in it today. We don't have days like these very often. In the middle of my indulgent thoughts, he slides his hand around the back of my neck, and rubs my left shoulder a bit before he says, "Make that two." That is his way of showing he is proud of me. He pays, seats me, and returns to the counter to wait for our coffees. When he returns, we start talking about our day: that new place we went for lunch, the get-together we are having tonight, and how hard it is to get the dog to tell the difference between grass and carpet. You know, the basics. The other customers have slowly left. The owner begins to close the blinds and lock the doors, like usual. She smiles at us. "Take your time, no rush. I will be here for a while." Daddy nods, and I go to the counter where I ask her if she is hiring. My full lips covered in a pretty nude pink are only the start of it. She laughs and says, "Oh, I think we just might be. Other than coming here every Saturday, do you have any experience?" as she puts her elbows on the counter, laying her hands across the top of it. I can't help but watch her movements. Slow, purposeful. I start to lean in a bit, and then I pause. Slowly, a look of disappointment crosses my face. My eyes drop to the counter, then I proceed to tell her, "He said that I would need experience to work here, but I didn't believe him."
