The Girl of Your Dreams

“Everything you can imagine is real. It’s a quote from Pablo Picasso,” you said as the espresso machine made its steamy milk-foaming sound under my expert guidance.

“I really like that quote. Are you an artist?” I answered, smiling at you.

“I’m a writer, or at least I try to be,” you said.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be successful,” I said as I handed you your cappuccino over the cafe counter.

“Thanks, and nice to meet you…” you said, pausing to look at my name tag, “Ashlynn. I’m John.”

“It’s very nice to meet you too, John,” I answered.

Then we said goodbye, and you left with my smile in your heart. I usually don't flirt with customers, and I really don’t like it when they try anything. But meeting you felt like a dream, and you were just so sweet that I had to send flirty vibes your way.

It was so hazy and dreamlike, but that night we connected somehow that night. Did you imagine that wonderful scene, or did I? Actually, it really doesn’t matter who started that blaze, because it soon consumed us both.

It was the beginning of a daily routine for us. The next day you stopped by to get your cappuccino, and we smiled at each other knowingly. Then at night, we met again in the exact same way, over and over again. And that’s how sparks flew between us for a long time without anything catching on fire in the real world.

***

Then one time, you made me feel so happy and warm when you stayed longer at a bar stool seat beside the counter, and we had a long leisurely conversation as I worked. I answered your questions about the coffee machines and the types of drinks we made. You were starting to run out of these kinds of questions, and I think you could tell I wanted to talk about more than just coffee machines. I concentrated and wished so hard for you to ask me for my number, and you did!

I called my friend Petra right after to tell her the good news.

"He finally asked me. Can you believe it?" I said.

"No, I can't, actually," Petra said, and I could just see her smirk. "You guys going anywhere for a date?"

"No, he just asked me a while ago."

For some reason, I don't recall the rest of the conversation. I just know that we met again later that night, and it was the most fun we had together yet by far. Did that wonderful night really only happen in our minds?

***

The next time, you ordered your usual, and I felt goosebumps as you touched and briefly held my hand when I handed it to you. You reminded me about the date we had planned for that night and asked if I was excited. Even though I knew I should feel happy, I kept thinking about how I couldn't remember what I had done that morning and how the drinks menu seemed to be filled with unintelligible gibberish. Then hurriedly, I stopped my reverie and made sure to give you a winning smile before you left, and you responded in kind.

It's funny how I sometimes think of the sound of an alarm clock after speaking with you.

***

The day after our date, I was so excited I called Petra to tell her about it.

"Hi, Petra. He and I went on a date last night!"

"Spill the beans, girl. What restaurant did you go to, and what happened afterward?"

"It was a really romantic Italian place. I forget the name."

"Sounds nice. What about after that?"

"We kissed."

"And?"

"I can't hide anything from you. I spent the night at his place."

"Took you long enough to find someone you liked. How is he in bed?"

"He was great."

I know it was beautiful like an intimate rose with red hot petals, and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other when we woke up in the morning, but I can't recall many other details.

Again, there's that weird alarm clock sound.

***

I'm so happy! You took me on a trip to Hawaii, and we're flying there together. Now we're in our hotel room, and I'm running excitedly through the lavishly furnished white-walled room where the terrace opens onto a blue paradise of palm trees and sun. We’re hugging and nuzzling as we gaze upon the enchanting view. I don’t want to ever let you go. Next thing I know, we're on the beach, and if I say so myself, I think I'm looking rather good for you in my bikini. We swim together, then we come back and bask in the heat of the sun on our beach towels. You sound excited. You're talking about family and how you want to have so many children. I smile warmly as I listen to you speak. Later that night, we collapse into the comfy king-sized bed and we stretch out, our hands connecting.

I'm deeply disappointed when I hear the alarm clock again.

***

It's summer, and we're near a quaint little stone cottage that's been in your family for generations. Over the hills, we can see peaceful farms with grazing cows and we can hear the comforting voice of a small river nearby. We're holding hands as we walk together, and we enjoy the warm sunshine as the dusty crickets play between golden flowers. We stop to pick some wild strawberries, and I giggle as you feed them to me.

Then I gasp as you take my hand and pull me up a foot into the air with you!

“I didn't know we could do this!” I exclaim as we hover above the ground.

“Yes, you can do it if you try hard enough. You could always do it. I just showed you how,” you say, looking at me like you're enjoying the look of wonder on my face.

I feel like a kite as I rise into the air with you and soon the trees seem so small beneath us. It's so easy. How did I never know about this?

“I love you so much!” I try to say, but that irritating alarm clock again cuts off my happiness.

***

Now I'm back working at the cafe and making a cappuccino for you. You haven’t even asked me out yet.

Wait, how is that possible?

There’s the vividness of something that was lived intensely. I'm shivering as I feel the icy feeling of disappointment that has unhappily stained every small gesture and object around me. I feel you’re going to ask me for my number, but there isn’t the same magic as before. Now you ask me again, but I find it annoying this time, and I turn you down. Part of me can feel your disappointment, and it tears at me cruelly. Was this how I always felt about you? I feel confused and desperately want to reach out to you, to touch you tenderly, and to tell you I didn’t mean it.

Then I shudder as I hear that terrible alarm clock sound again.

***

I feel like a pale shadow of myself. I'm barely there and I feel so cold as I'm watching you meet someone new across the street.

I sigh as I hear the alarm clock and wonder if I’ll ever see you again.

***

I can feel the cold of outer space between you and me. I feel numb and like a fading memory.

Won’t anyone help me? I’m running out of air.

The alarm clock goes off one final time, and I'm forgotten.