Morning Brew

                           Morning Brew

The Barista pours the steamed milk in the cup as it mixes with the espresso. Then carefully forms a dot with the foam, creamy and white. As the dot enlarges, with a slow lift of the pitcher, she continues the pour slicing the foam down the middle to form a heart. Imagine this going on, order after order, hour after hour, day after day. 

In the background a loop of songs about love and romance or break-ups and shattered dreams go on infinitum. Is it any wonder that as the hissing steam rises from the vessel holding the cold milk, a phenomenon of psychic awareness appears, awakening silent thoughts and subliminal messages to all unsuspecting souls.

The Barista holds this vessel of life while regulars form a casual line. The steam of enlightenment forms the heart that she creates to finish off each cup.

Two regulars line up near each other. One’s a detective, the other a coroner. 

The coroner, a lovely lady with dark hair, is a half-step ahead of the detective, but does not acknowledge him as yet, although she knows he’s close. She brushes a wisp of hair from her face.

As the steam settles into the air, it becomes clear she’s thinking about him.

She bites the inside of her cheek pondering to herself. I know a part of me wants to let go. But you're standing there with that look in your eye, the one that seems so innocently to tug the corners of your mouth into a smile. Your eyes are clear and blue without the clouded wariness that comes much later in the day. You're standing there with your arms crossed, back on your heels, your head slightly tipped to the side. 

Although you appear relaxed, you are intensely aware of everything going on around you. By now, you've noticed the man paying at the cash register who has eyed the two women sitting at the far table by the door. They, on the other hand, have been deep in conversation for as long as we've been standing here. Without even looking, I know you are standing close to me. 

You really are quite striking early in the morning, before the weight of this God-awful job we do falls on your shoulders. I've ordered a latte and study you out of the corner of my eye, as a whiff of espresso drips slowly into the cup on the other side of the counter. You've ordered yours with an extra shot, just as you always do. 

I act like I don't notice that you're staring at me, and you act like you don't know that I’m wondering what to do next; when I know all you want to do is grab a hold of me and not let go. Thank God, you finally figured out that just wasn't going to work for me. 

Someone that just met you might let that fresh-faced boyish charm fool them. But you're complicated. It's probably something you aren't even conscious of, but I see it every time I look at you. There's a part of you that is totally unaware that life could ever bring disappointment. Yet, there is that slight pause before you break into a smile. You move closer, just slightly, to remind me just how determined you are. 

The thing is, while you were learning your powers of persuasion, I was learning all about resisting. I mean, I didn't get where I am today by caving into my every little whim. I suppose you didn't get where you are by pushing any less. Something tells me that's one thing you like about me, and truth is, I guess I could say the same about you. 

You know, when I was in the 6th grade, I knew this boy who was a lot like you. Ian Durham. He had blond hair and pale skin and was a little too big hearted for his own good. 

I was on my way to school one day, stumbled and landed flat on my ass. After a quick look around I thought, "Thank God, no one saw me." Yeah, well guess what. Up Ian came from behind. He reached down and offered me his hand. And just as I reached up and was about to take it, smile and get up, his friends came up and started laughing at him. You know, for helping me. Well, I don't have to tell you, I decided right then and there that I'd never let a boy help me again. I'd never need anyone's help for that matter. There's a lot to be said for self-reliance. 

So, I pulled myself up, dusted myself off, and turned on my way. That's when I heard the scuffle. "Shut the hell up," Ian yelled as I heard his friend hit the ground. I didn't look back. But I have to admit, I smiled. 

So, here we stand acting like strangers, even though we've shared more in one night than I have with many others over months. Just a couple of days ago I told you it was all a mistake. You got pissed and walked out like a spoiled child. I wasn't about to let on how really nice that one night had been or that I wouldn't have traded it for anything. Yeah, ok, so, maybe it did make me a little uncomfortable. You do have a way of reminding me I've grown more apathetic about the men in my life then I care to admit. 

I look over the counter and see the lattes are nearly done. One already has a heart shape in the foam. Ha, I laugh to myself. I know that makes you happy. You reach in your pocket and pull out your money and smile. "I'll get this." You offer because that's just the way you are. 

But I've already fingered for my own change and smile back at you convincingly. "That's alright, I've got it." Ok, so it's just coffee. Don't get me wrong. We could sit down and cordially share a few moments of our morning. But the sun beating in through the window would soon light the strands of your hair and you'd look at me with that half-cocked smile. Before long, we'd be too far beyond the plans for the day. I don't know, maybe it's just a little too early in the morning for such revelry. 

The Barista passes the latte’s down the counter as she fills the pitcher with cold milk again. Before long the heat turns it into sputtering steam.

The morning ritual continue.

We grasp our lattes and gather our change, pacing in sync towards the door. Although I reach for it first, your hand grabs hold of the knob and pushes it wide open just before me. I concede graciously, as we scoot out together into the bright morning light. The breeze lightly lifts the amber waves in your hair as we pause and shift back and forth for a moment. I take a sip of the hot liquid and catch a whiff of the espresso. It's a needed distraction as your sweet musky scent lingers near. I have to admit, it is sexy. There'll be a short exchange between us, before you take the few steps across the street to start your day. I've already begun to run through the list of results I need to check on when I get to the lab. 

And later, as I go about my business, you'll be standing in front of me with a body of cold remains between us that remind us of the reality of our day. You'll ask me how soon on the Rinaldo report, as if you couldn't have called, and I'll shrug offhandedly and remind you that I've been a bit busy all morning, but it should be ready later today. And all the while we're talking, your eyes will be trying to convince me just why we'd be so good together. 

"How about a beer tonight?" you'll ask as your eyes pause over mine. 

"Ah, I don't know," I'll reply. After a moment of hesitation, I'll shrug, "I was just going to go home tonight." 

"We can do that, too," you'll answer playfully with a determination that seems to come second nature to you. 

"You just can't take no for an answer, can you?" I'll brush off your comment assuredly. 

"Whatever." You'll shove your hands in your pockets and pout. That will give you the moment you need for a come back. "But you don't really want me to, now do you?" 

We both know that isn't where it will end and later tonight we'll be sitting at the bar toasting the Rinaldo results, or just the fact that we made it through the day. We'll have a few shots and a beer and more likely than not, we'll end up at my place or yours. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I mind. But tomorrow, I'm still buying my coffee.

The Detective comes into view as the steam dissipates behind the counter forming a cloud in front of him.  

He’s been pondering, too. Please. Give me a fucking break. I knew you weren't going to cruise off to dinner with me down the coast, let alone pack up and sail to Belize. You don't really think I thought you would, do you? Even so, that didn't stop me from asking. See, that's the difference with us. Not that that's a bad thing. But I see the moment and grab it. You see it and turn away. And why? Because it scares you. 

You felt something and you didn't expect to. And what's more, you liked it. Maybe that's what scared you the most. Well, that's ok. I think I already won you over. Otherwise you wouldn't have come on so strong. I mean, all that explanation over a simple…little…dinner…invitation. Yada yada yada. 

I'm standing here so close to you, I can see the little freckles that scatter along your hairline at the back of your neck. I like the way you pull it up and just sort of twist it somehow. I can feel my fingers releasing the long strands from that up-do you wear. You really don't appreciate how great you look. But I see it. You've got that classic air about you that my sister always talked about. 

I notice you shift a half step away, so I move closer. The other night you liked me close. You didn't seem to mind at all. And when I noticed the way your hair fell along the curve of your neck, you liked the way I slid my fingers through it and lifted it so I could taste the sweet flavor of your skin. Ok, so maybe I wasn't a perfect gentleman. But don't kid yourself. I mean, it wasn't that hard to figure out what you wanted. I mean I could see right away you weren't the box of candy kind. 

C'mon, you're not that innocent in all of this. I'm a detective, remember. You're trying to keep your heart close to your chest, but I can see a con from a mile away. No matter what you think, I don't buy it. 

Well, it looks like our lattes are done. I'm going to offer, but I know you won't let me pay for yours. You know, it's just coffee. What the hell would it hurt? Well, that's ok, don't worry about it. I can be just as relentless as you. 

By now we're standing out in the morning sun. This is the best time of the day, isn't it? Or maybe it's just that you're standing here, too. Anyway, there's really nothing better than feeling the swells against the boat and the salt air in your face as it cruises along at 20 knots at dawn. You ought to consider that invitation some time. 

Well, I need to get on the job. Not that I couldn't stand here all morning talking with you. But by now I've probably got a dozen tips to check that came in on the Rinaldo case. So, see you're not the only one that's busy.

I wonder if you've got that report ready, but you're already a few steps away. Ah, never mind. I'll check in with you later. I'll be passing by the lab before lunch anyway. And don't give it a second thought, huh? For all your God damn opposition, it's my tab we'll be running up at the bar tonight. That's something I'll see to. And you know what? Don't kid yourself. You know you'll like it. 

Later that night - 

        is filled with foggy restlessness and a heavyweight of mist from the coastal waters ….

"Hey," the Coroner smiles as the Detective scoots up to the bar next to her. He moves the stool a little closer as he sits down, turns his body so he can put his hand on the backrest, his foot resting on her stool. She takes a short sip from her glass, leans towards him and asks. "You make the arrest?" 

"Yep. That's why I'm here. Something to celebrate," he utters as he motions to the barkeep for a drink. The barkeep fills a shot glass and slides it towards him. The Detective picks it up and swallows the shot in one gulp then nods for another. 

"And I do intend to make the most of it," he leans closer to her. 

"You always do," she answers with a shrug. "Maybe that's why we get along so well," she whispers. 

"Oh, is that what we're doing now? Getting along so well." 

"Yeah, sure." She sips her drink slowly, letting the warm liquid slide down her throat, not intending to add to the comment. 

"Well, it's about time you admitted it." His hand runs down her back, starting at the curve of her shoulder then resting at the small bend below her waist for a moment before he lets go. She relaxes to his touch. 

"I admit to a lot of things." 

He smirks. "Such as…?" 

"Well, for one thing, nothing tastes better at the end of the day then…, " she raises her glass of Scotch neat in a toast. 

Their glasses ping, touching together. He asks, "Even when you drink alone? I mean, you were alone before I got here." 

"You put way too much thought into such things," she scoffs at the remark. 

“I’m a detective, remember?" He lifts his glass. “If I don’t think I don’t solve cases. Then I don't have a reason to celebrate, alone or with you." 

"Ha," she laughs out loud. "It always comes back to me somehow, doesn't it?" 

"That's not true." 

"Of course it is. You're not that hard to figure out." 

"Oh, so now you're getting into my head?" He rolls his eyes and a dimple forms near his crooked smile. 

She chuckles, as he raises his glass then finishes off his drink. Turning towards him, her eyes serious, she says. "Have you ever thought of doing something different?" 

He smiles wryly. "You mean, like drinking at home?" 

"No, you know, just getting in your car and following the interstate without looking back. Maybe driving until you feel like stopping somewhere just to see what follows." 

The detective shrugs. "Well, yeah, but I do have a boat, so..." He draws the distinction. 

She looks down into her glass and whispers, "We're good at what we do, though." 

"Yeah, we are," he answers, his own voice turning more sober. 

"That counts for something." 

"Sure," he nods. 

"I mean, not everyone could do what we do." 

"Or do it so well." 

"So, in some ways we're sort of stuck." 

He leans closer to her and whispers in her ear. "Stuck isn't so bad, is it?" 

Their eyes meet for a heartbeat. “No, I guess not,” she says.

“Then, cheers to another day,” he says.

And in the morning, two lattes will be poured just for them. And then for many others, as the barista creates each heart as a finishing touch. Vapors of droplets will suspend in midair then surrender though barely noticed. Over and over throughout the day, enlightenment from the vessel of life will hiss and sputter, as love and romance or break-ups and shattered dreams play in the background.