Coffee | Teen Ink

Coffee

February 5, 2010
By Mkai15 BRONZE, Seattle, Washington
Mkai15 BRONZE, Seattle, Washington
3 articles 4 photos 1 comment

“We haven't been here long, have we?”
The crack of the folded newspaper surprised her out of her lull. She checked her watch, 4:30. That didn't help though, she didn't know what time she had arrived. The only clue was the receding light outside the floor to ceiling windows, and the cars now turning on headlights to beam down the road.

He didn't answer her; he appeared to be immersed in the pages of stock market changes, but she could tell that his eyes weren't tracking the text like they should be.

“We haven't been here long, have we?” She repeated herself, attempting to add emphasis to her words. His shoulders tightened uncomfortably, and it took him a couple seconds to reply.

“Not long I s'pose, do you want to leave.” It wasn't really a question.

“I'm not sure.”

She wasn't lying; she was still so confused, almost as if she wasn't sure where she was. He purposely avoided her gaze, and his shoulders remained stressfully clenched.

“You said you wanted to come here, remember? I don't have much time.”

“Oh! Oh...I suppose I did.” She couldn't remember though, she couldn't remember anything.

Despite her confusion, she wasn't scared. She could tell that there was something comforting about her lack of memory, almost like she was purposely forgetting something horrible. Something she wouldn't have wanted to remember anyways. It was hard to explain. . .

“There's not much time is there?” She asked him, glancing at her watch again.

He sighed loud and long, “No, I think they close at 5. We can go then if you like.”

That wasn't the question she wanted answered, but then again, she hadn't really needed an answer. Noticing her confusion, he sighed again and folded his newspaper back down onto the glass coffee table.

“Do you want some coffee? Tea maybe? Just something relaxing?”

She didn't know how to respond, she didn't think she wanted anything, but she nodded her head anyways. Better not to cause him more annoyance than he already seemed to have.

“Alright,” he said, raising his palms up with his shoulders as if you say 'well hell, there's nothing more I can do for you.' She watched as he slumped up to the cashier and fumbled a few dollars out of his wallet. What was it that she needed to tell him? Her brain hurt she was thinking so hard, but knowledge seemed a thing of the past, something so stone age that she hadn't thought about it in a long time. But there it was again, that nagging prodding feeling, that knowing, that she had come here today to tell him something. Oh well, perhaps it was nothing.

He came back with a ceramic cup steaming with a fresh latte, and placed it in front of her on the table. She looked just then, for the first time, at the table, and saw an identical empty cup next to it.

“Oh! Have you already had some coffee?” She asked him politely.

“No, Mom, that is yours from before. Now, are you alright to drink this yourself? If there is nothing you need to tell me, then I really must be going.”

She did not respond. Her instinct was to keep him in the coffee shop, but she didn't think that there was anything else she needed to tell him.

“Alright then, I'll see you later, Mom, keep yourself out of trouble.” He left quickly, looking perky and more eager as he made his escape. But had they been there long? She couldn't remember. . .

It was 4:56, someone strange told her they were closing in five. She looked at the door; Who had she been sitting with? Must have been no one important if she couldn't remember. She got up, and took her jacket slowly off the back of the chair, sliding it over her thin delicate arms. As she pushed open the door, the bells jingling overhead, the mother put her hands in her pocket, and felt something brush up against her little finger. Standing outside in the darkening world, the mother pulled out what looked like a handwritten note: “Don't forget to tell him what the doctor said. Tell him you won't remember things anymore, tell him you hope he forgives you, but you can't apologize because you can't remember what you did. Tell him you love him, and tell him that you are sorry.” The mother shook her head in confusion. Tell who? Oh well, it is very dark, and she must be getting home.


The author's comments:
For a creative writing class.

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