Latte

You know that feeling that rises up inside after waiting? Waiting longer than you should be? I placed my order over five minutes ago. Five minutes! I mean, that’s more than enough time for a latte to be made. Steamed milk, espresso. Not forgetting the caramel. My drink should be out by now. 

My feet begin to tap faster, and my mind begins to race. 

You know that feeling where you know someone is waiting for you? Checking the clock, wondering if you forgot, staring at the doorway, waiting for you to materialize inside of it?

When you know your daughter is probably lonely, bogged down with sickness, waiting for relief, waiting for company?

Yeah, that feeling. It is getting kind of hard to stand. I told her I’d be there in ten minutes. 

Behind the counter, the espresso machine screams, ringing in my ears. Hot coffee is brewing behind the counter, filling the shop with a warm, delicious smell. Late morning sunshine streams through the sparkling glass windows, casting shadows upon the armchairs scattered throughout the lobby. 

Pacing towards the sunlight, I tensely plop myself down into an armchair. Whipping out my phone, I open up the first review app I see, then give this coffee joint a one star review. Do they deserve one star? I don’t know, I’m not some food critic here. 

You know that satisfied feeling you get after you vent out your frustration on a review app? 

Yeah, that feeling. 

It calms me down. 

Rising from my chair, I stuff my phone back into my coat pocket, and stroll towards the pickup line. 

Okay, if this latte does not appear in the next few minutes, I’m leaving. 

A barista finally appears next to the pickup counter, her face flushed. Not without a small tremble in her voice does she call out:

“Pickup for Eva, large hot caramel latte!” 

I make my way through the other waiting customers, mumbling “sorry,” and “excuse me” left and right. Reaching the front counter, I grab my order, then weave my way towards the front door. 

Pushing it open, I finally exit this lousy joint.

You know that feeling when you finally get what you’ve been waiting for, but at the same time resolve never to make a wait in that same place again? 

Yeah, that feeling. 

Good riddance, I mutter. 

      ~

I quickly, yet cautiously, make my way down behind the front counter. Past the brewing coffee, past the racks of flavorings, down towards the register. My face burns with the heat, and my hands begin to shake a little.

Five chocolate, two vanilla crème, three old fashioned, two powdered. 

I crouch down, and snatch out a box from a stack underneath the display. Pressing a button on my headset, I turn off my mic and call out for someone to take the next order. Standing up, I lean backwards, before grabbing a wax paper square.  

Spinning back around towards the display, I notice for the first time a crowd of customers, waiting in line. I put on my most professional, most customer-service-like voice.

“I’ll be right with you. Sorry for the wait!” 

I turn my back to the sighs, and scan the current selection of donuts. Chocolate, vanilla crème, old fashioned, strawberry frosted, boston crème, glazed, muffins, coffee rolls. 

Crap. No powdered. 

Pressing the button on my headset, I once again summon my best voice. 

“Unfortunately, we do not have any powdered donuts right now.” 

They ask for boston creme. I can do that. 

Closing up the box, I dodge puddles of melted ice, and skirt around my other three employees. Reaching the drive-through register, I ring up the donut order, then open the window to cash out the next car. 

“$4.59” 

A cool breeze blows through the open window, and I catch a glimpse of the gorgeous Autumn day outside. My face cools from the breeze, and I begin to relax just a little. Inserting the customer’s card into the register, I catch a glimpse of the time. Two more hours. 

I guess I can do that, too. Besides, every second of work and stress, every coffee that I hand to a customer means a little more money I can put into my savings.

Walking over to the espresso machine, I pour a shot into a full cup of caramel and steamed milk. Pouring the foam on top, I slap a lid onto it, and walk over to the pick up counter. 

Even though my hands are still trembling, even though my face is still flushed from the hot coffee steam, everything seems to be alright. The front counter line is moving, and so is the drive-thru. Each day working here is bringing me closer to my goals. 

Walking to the pickup counter, I call out the next order. 

“Pick up for Eva, large hot caramel latte!”

       ~

An Autumn breeze blows through an open window, rustling the sheer white curtains, bouncing shadows throughout the living room. Late morning sunshine streams in, filling the room with shimmering gold, casting its rays upon a little slice of nature.

Greenery and floral plants alike covered the simple walls, forming a modest conservatory, a humble botanical garden. A pot of African violets sits sheltered  underneath the protecting wings of a large, billowing elephant ear. Hanging high above them is a dangling Pothos, dropping down its arms as if to touch the other plants. Nestled in the corner is a tall, graceful orchid, splendid in its hues of blues and pinks.  

Of course the other two walls have their own little garden growing upon them, their own little slice of nature tucked around their thumbs. Amidst all of this, in a fluffy armchair, sits a figure, almost like a plant herself in her green sweater. 

Placing her phone down on an end table, she stands up, coughing into her arm. Filling a watering can, she lovingly sprinkles a fiddle leafed fig. Using a small pair of shears, she prunes her mint, flowing out of the pot. 

“Slow down there,” she raspily murmurs, “don’t go running off.” 

A quick knock, followed by the door swinging open, breaks the tranquility. Softly, it closes again, and slow footsteps echo into the lush conservatory. 

“Hey Juniper, how are you feeling?”

“Hi Mom,” smiles Juniper, putting down her gardening shears, then sinking back into her lush armchair.  

“Way better than yesterday, thanks.” She finishes.

“I figured something warm would feel good on a chilly day like today,” declares Eve, navigating her way around pots and plants. “So, I decided to pick up your favorite on the way over.” 

Juniper’s face lights up as she exclaims, “Hot caramel latte?” 

“You know it,” Eve beams, as she places the hot drink down upon a wooden coaster. 

Wrapping her fingers around the hot cup, Juniper lets the comforting warmth seep in. Closing her eyes, she lays her head back, then takes a deep breath in through her nose. 

“Didn’t you get yourself anything?” asks Juniper, sitting back up and taking a sip of her latte. “They sell decaf, you know.”

Taking a broom off a hook, Eve begins sweeping. 

“Eh, I couldn't really decide what to get. Anyway,” she continued, “I think if I did order something, I’d be a lot later than ten minutes.” 

“Shop busy again?”

“Busy?” Eve exclaimed. “Busy isn’t the right word. It was downright chaos! Almost ten minutes, just for this one latte. Sometimes I think those people are incompetent.” 

Juniper was silent, perhaps thinking of her bygone days as a barista. Perhaps thinking of the stress from a long line, hot stream billowing from brewing coffee, waiting for an espresso shot. Organizing orders, cleaning, stocking, making sure customers received what they wanted. Trying to juggle a laundry list of drinks with only one other person to help. 

Perhaps she thought of this, perhaps she didn’t. But when Eve asked what was on her mind, she answered,

“Perspective.”