The Coffee Shop

I can't help but wonder if my mom was right. I've never been this far from home, but here I am on a sticky bus with everything that is important to me in my untouched suitcase. My essence in North Carolina fades with each state line I pass, but the ropes of that small town loosen against my skin. I'm going to New York. I'm going to be a writer. I'm going to be a NY Best Selling author. Hours go by and a small overhead light at the front of the bus has kept me comfortable. I smiled to myself as I drifted asleep.

The sun beamed down on me as my sleepy eyes quivered open and my vision began to clear. I look out the windows to be greeted by concrete giants. The bus comes to a halted stop. I pick up my suitcase and walk down the bus aisle. With my every step, these New Yorkers take two. I grip my lucky necklace as I step down into the unknown. My new home. I look around at all the signs, "East Broadway. East Broadway. East Broadway" I whisper underneath my breath. Nothing. I sighed and giggled to myself as I pulled out my phone. Fifteen minute walk, perfect. I started to lug my suitcase behind me, I looked back at the bus one more time. I can't help but wonder if my mom was right.

The bold red door proudly displayed the numbers “126”. I held my suitcase a little closer to my chest as I nervously looked up at the steep staircase. The beige colored hallway smelled of old wood and cigarette smoke. "Hello, there!" a booming voice filled the halls. Nearly jumping out of my skin I looked around to see where that voice was coming from, no one was around. "H-hello? I'm the new tenant here" I said warily. I look at the window at the end of the hall to see a person jump inside from the terrace. A tall, skinny boy with rugged curly hair walked towards me. "You must be Peach! I'm Arlo. My dad sent me here to give you the key to your room." I hesitated, "Hey, Arlo. It's nice to meet you." He walks towards me and points to the door, "Well, go ahead" he said, "She's all yours!" I turn the key and open the door. The sun shines down on the newly polished wooden floors. "Here is the kitchen, the living room, and at the end of the hallway is your room." I set my suitcase down and walked down the hall. When I got to the end of the hall, two windows reached up to the ceiling, making the room glow. "It's perfect!" I exclaimed. "Great, I'll leave you to it then," he says as he walks out the door, "Oh, by the way," Arlo says as he swings the door back open, "If you need anyone to show you around New York, I left my number on the kitchen counter," he says with a wide smile and closes the door. I stood alone in the middle of my room, squealing with excitement.

I unravel my suitcase onto the floor and walk down the hall towards the bathroom. I washed away my sleepy eyes, the cold water felt so good after the long bus ride. I grabbed my towel and made my way to the kitchen to find Arlo’s number. His handwriting was pretty. It reminded me of my dad’s handwriting when he was in a hurry, perfectly scribbled. My eyes started to swell at the thought of home. I looked up to the light to keep my tears from falling when I noticed a cabinet slightly cracked open. I slid my fingers through the cracks and the cabinet creaks open with a wail. Sitting there gleaming at the bottom of the dust filled cabinet is a little black book. My eyes were glued to the book, entranced as if this book had belonged to me in a past life. The pages were rigid and stained with all the places it had seen before, yet the black leather bound around it seemed untouched. I wondered if it belonged to a previous tenant. I turned open the front cover and the spine of the book cracked like a fresh book off the shelf, “If found please return to Emily Shaw, in return, I will help find you.” “Intriguing riddle, Ms. Shaw,” I thought to myself. I tucked the book into my satchel along with Arlo’s number. My eyes ached from the travelling, I rubbed them to wake them up, but it seems like my body has had enough for the day. I lay my comforter out on the floor of my room and rested my head on my hoodie. My vision began to fade as my dreams started to emerge.

Waking up to the sounds of New York made me feel like I was still in a dream. I looked out the window wondering what time it was, but got distracted watching those below who all had somewhere to be. A woman in a fashionable trench coat and snake high boots that almost touched her hips, a man with messy hair playing the violin on the corner, mothers and daughters laughing over coffee at the coffee shop across the street. The streets were pulling me to join them. I pulled my hoodie over my head and recklessly gathered my shoes and satchel. I headed out the door for my first adventure in this concrete jungle. The bold red door swung open as if it was welcoming me to the new day, I gripped the straps of my satchel and smiled with awe. I rushed my way across the street to the coffee shop. I wasn’t sure if I was more excited about the refreshing coffee smell or the “now hiring” sign they have displayed on the door.

“Can I have the large black coffee with two pumps of sweetener, please.”

“Sure thing, is that all you’d like for today?”

“I was actually wondering about your sign outside, are you guys still hiring?”

“We are! Fill out this application and our manager Arlo will give you a call for an interview.”

“Arlo? Like Dad owns the apartment across the street Arlo?”

“Yup, that’s the dude!”

I let out a chuckle of surprise, said thank you, and headed over to the table next to the window to find out where Emily Shaw was. I flipped to the first page of her journal, my eyes widened as I read the first line, “I can’t help but wonder if my mom was right.”

My eyes darted from one line to the next. I closed my eyes and visualized each word that came next. Every word Emily has written is the exact same I have written before. “How is this even possible?” I thought to myself. I looked around the coffee shop as if other people were experiencing the same thing I was. I sat back into my chair and lifted the book closer to my face, inspecting the handwriting. The tail of her “a’s” flicked up just slightly in a pretty swoop, her “g’s” always connected with the next letter. That’s my handwriting. I closed the book with a shiver, took a deep breath, and looked out the window. There’s the bold red door Emily and I both have touched. My eyes floated from the door to the windows of my bedroom, my thoughts were interrupted when a sharp pain pulsed through my thumb, I had chewed my way to my skin. I looked down to inspect my thumb when my gaze pulled back to the little black book. I opened the pages back up and pulled the book close to my eyes and continued to read. “... I wasn’t sure if I was more excited about the refreshing coffee smell or the “now hiring” sign they have displayed on the door.” I continued reading to realize that the next words were not written in my journal yet. It was a side note, “Peach, the barista at the coffee shop is going to be a friend like you’ve never had before. You guys can get through anything together. Whatever happens, don’t let Arlo get in the way of your friendship, the love you have for each other is much stronger.” I kept chewing on my lip at the thought of what was happening. The chatter in the coffee shop grew to a muffle and my eyes grew dim. I looked over my shoulder to look at the barista I just met ten minutes ago, she looked back with a smile. I smiled back with a quiver to my lip and darted my stare back at the journal. I flipped to the middle of the journal to start reading what my future days would be like, apparently Emily-- I’ll adopt a kitten, my mom will visit me and we’ll have coffee at this shop, and I’ll win $20,000 from a writing contest! I caught myself chewing at my nail again with a different question flowing through my mind, what will the last pages say?