Salted Vanilla Latte

“Hi, welcome to Oceanstar Coffee. Can I interest you in one of our new fall beverages?” The overly cheerful barista wasn’t looking at Josie. She couldn’t be, because if she were looking there’s no way she could manage to be so cheerful.

Josie wasn’t crying—not yet, anyway. But she was clearly very unhappy.

“It’s 90 degrees outside. It’s not fall,” Josie said.

“It’s September 1^st. September is the first month of fall!” The barista replied. Clearly, she had absolutely zero situational awareness. Or maybe she didn’t want Josie to be embarrassed about how obviously miserable she was.

“Okay. What are your fall beverages?” Josie asked. The question filled her with an overwhelming and completely irrational rage. Josie liked the rage because it made her temporarily forget.

The barista paused. Maybe Josie was finally getting to her. “We, um, we have them listed on the board up there,” she said, pointing at the ornate chalkboard only 18 inches away from the both of them.

Josie studied it—from the orange chalk pumpkins to the swirly cursive, everything about the board reeked of seasonal splendor. Pumpkin spice. Apple praline. Salted caramel. Three distinct flavors mingling together with the power of espresso to create a powerhouse of fall essence. All the holidays at once. Falling leaves, wheelbarrows full of pumpkins and grandmas everywhere cooking Sunday dinner. She didn’t want any of it.

“Vanilla latte,” Josie blurted like if she didn’t say it fast enough the fall flavors would attack her.

“What?” The barista asked.

“A vanilla latte—grande,” Josie repeated.

“Okay. One vanilla latte coming right up. Can I get a name?” The barista asked.

“Josie.”

The barista scrawled Jose on the cup and Josie paid. She stepped to the side to wait for her very plain, non-offensive vanilla latte so she could drink it and put life on hold for a while.

Josie blushed when the young man called out for Jose to come collect her latte, then retreated as quickly as she dared to hid in her parked car outside the store. Shutting the door she took a deep breath, then a sip. Her drink was too hot. She took another sip. It was actually a bit more of a gulp than it was a sip, but she wasn’t trying to be dainty. She was sitting in her car in front of Oceanstar coffee, crying.

Crying, and drinking a vanilla latte, she corrected herself, brushing a loose wisp of hair back behind her ear. It wasn’t an ugly cry, but it was persistent. Each time she thought that maybe the tears were wrapped up she’d be hit with another wave. They just oozed out like a tenacious leak.

The thought caused a laugh to escape. It was a blight on the silence. Josie hadn’t realized how quiet it was in her car. She briefly considered turning the key and playing some music, but that complicated things. If she were going to bother turning the key to play music, then why wouldn’t she just turn the car on? And if she turned the car on then why wouldn’t she start driving home? Clearly this wasn’t the right time for music!

Really though, Josie was dreading the drive home. It was too full of meaning, as if going home meant that she would have to confront the thing that kept rattling around inside of her head— the thing that drove her to the afternoon appointment and the vanilla latte. Sure, she’d managed the appointment, but the drive home was still too much.

Josie had been to a therapist before, for various hardships, but she hadn’t seen this one coming. She hadn’t even realized that it was the reason she made the appointment in the first place. But sitting in the room, across from the plain woman in a striped blouse and pulled back hair, it had just come out...

“I don’t know if I can keep going on like this. I feel like I have to choose between me and him and I’m the worst person if I don’t choose him.”

The therapist nodded, understandingly. “Do you feel like he is more important than you?”

“No... I mean, I know our needs should be equal, but I can’t do both, so I have to choose.”

“Why does it have to be you?”

Josie sucked in a breath. How do you explain a dynamic that’s come to be over so many years? “Because he won’t. I want him to— I want to do it together, both of us, but he just won’t.”

Another knowing nod. “You don’t feel like you have a partner anymore?”

Josie realized that was it. “Yeah. I want to. I keep trying to include him—in everything! In anything! But it seems like there’s nothing I can do that makes him want to try with me Anymore... for us. It’s like I’m running in circles around a track, asking him each time if he wants to join me and go somewhere, but he won’t.”

“You have to ask yourself the question; how many times will you run in that circle instead of living your life? Are you willing to go around forever if he never joins you?”

It was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but Josie wasn’t certain that she could say it. To say “I won’t do it anymore” felt like the same thing as admitting failure. It was the same thing. It meant a failed marriage.

But to choose to keep going meant putting her own feelings aside. It meant putting herself aside for someone else. It sounded so noble, like her vision of what a marriage was supposed to be. She could envision herself making that noble decision, putting her husband first and herself second and making everything fine again. It sounded good. It sounded like what she wanted, but it didn’t answer the questions— who would look after her? Who would be there to build her up when she was worn down from it all? Did she matter?

The answer was supposed to be her husband.

Josie wiped away another tear. She licked her lips absently and tasted the salt. After another sip of the latte she thought, why is salted caramel a flavor but salted vanilla wasn’t? She would never order a salted vanilla anything, though. It would remind her of this moment, and she didn’t ever want to revisit if she could help it. Maybe that’s why salted vanilla wasn’t a flavor.

Josie’s phone buzzed. It was sitting on the dash above the stereo and the hard plastic made the vibration resonate in the silent car. It was much louder than an actual ringtone. She picked up the phone and looked at the screen. It was her mom.

Briefly she considered not answering, then swiped across the screen and put the phone against her face.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She imagined her voice sounded nonchalant. She flipped down the mirror and wiped her face as though her mom could see her crying.

“Oh hi sweetie.” Her mom was definitely crying.

“What’s wrong?” Josie immediately forgot that she’d been crying.

“I’m so mad at your dad right now!”

If only she knew, Josie thought. If only she knew I was sitting in front of a coffee shop, crying and trying to figure out if I want to leave my husband...

“Why are you mad at him?” Josie noted that the oozing tears had finally stopped.

“I confronted him, and he admitted he’s been smoking!” Her voice was angry, wet venom.

Josie’s heart sunk. Him too? The disappointment was still too familiar and fresh for Josie. It was just last spring that she had made the discovery that her own husband had been smoking behind her back and the feeling of betrayal was too fresh.

She hobbled out of the tattoo shop and hopped on one foot (the other foot having just been done) into the passenger seat. Steve walked around the car and into the driver’s seat. Josie put her foot up on the dash, admiring the fresh artwork. They were both all smiles.

“Am I a jerk for leaving the reception early for this?” Josie asked him.

“Nah, you had this planned before they set the date,” Steve assured her, turning the car around and heading to the highway.

Josie was buzzing with happiness. Sure, her foot felt like it had just been eaten by tiny fire ants, but the tattoo she’d been dreaming of was finally done. She picked off the piece of tape that had come loose from the bandage and absently crumpled it in her left hand.

“So, do you think you’ll ever get one if you can’t even manage to stay in the room while I get one done?” She teased him.

She pressed the center console to open the trash and throw away the piece of tape. The small receptacle popped open and the bright yellow of an American Sprits cigarette package stole her attention. They had both quit smoking 4 years ago. It was insane that there could be any stray packages hanging around anymore.

“Hey Steve, where did this come from? You’re not smoking behind my back, are you?” Her smile hadn’t diminished. She was thinking of his reaction to such an obvious tease.

“Actually, yeah. I have.” Steve’s response was so lighthearted that she was certain he was teasing her right back.

“Oh, come on! How old is that package? Did you just clean your car or something?” The idea that he was smoking again was so ridiculous to her. He would never. When they quit, they swore to each other that they’d never do it without telling the other person.

“No, seriously, I just threw that away.” Steve was sincere, but not grave, like she’d expect him to be if he were actually confessing.

“Oh yeah? And you left the room—”

“To go smoke,” He finished for her.

The notion that maybe he was telling the truth was starting to sink in.

“You’re serious?” Josie was suddenly aware that she could feel her heart pounding against her chest.

“One hundred percent,” Steve confirmed.

“You’re not lying?” Did she want him to lie to her?

“Nope. I’m smoking again.” He wasn’t looking at her. He just kept staring forward as they drove.

“For how long?” He would tell her it just started. Something happened and this was the conversation they promised to have.

“I don’t know—at least 6 months.” He still wouldn’t look at her.

At least 6 months! Josie felt nauseous. It was so ridiculous it had to be a joke. There’s no way he could smoke in secret for so long without her finding out.

“When? How?” Was she smiling? Frowning? She couldn’t feel her face.

“I don’t know. To and from work, at lunch, when you’re working, when you’re out running...” He trailed off as if he were saying whenever you weren’t looking, ya dummy!

“How much?” Was it just a couple per day? Josie didn’t even know why she was asking but the need to have answers was urgent and pressing.

“Half a pack, maybe a pack a day. Sometimes one every three days. It just depends,” He shrugged the question off.

Josie was stunned. Three hours ago, she had been sitting at a table with all of her friends, drinking and merry without a care in the world. Now she was sitting in a car with her lying husband and a sore foot. It didn’t feel real.

“So…” She took a deep breath, processing what she wanted to say, “the day I ran my race?”

“Yep.”

“And you ran the last 10 with me after smoking?” To her, it felt like the biggest betrayal of all.

“Yeah, what’s the big deal? It was a slow 10. You know I could do that after smoking.” It felt more like a dig than a confession.

That was the first time Josie found out Steve was smoking behind her back. He quit and promised not to lie again. He agreed that maybe they had some communication and trust issues, and promised he was on board with some marriage counseling. The counseling never happened, and she was much less surprised the second time she found out he was sneaking behind her back and smoking again.

It had been quiet for a few beats too long. Her mom sniffed and the sound came across tinny on the phone speaker. Josie let out a big sigh. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“I know. That’s why I called you. Don’t tell your sister.”

Josie hated it when her mom told her things she was supposed to keep under wraps in the family.

“What are you going to do?” Josie asked. The phone call came at the strangest time. It felt like she and her mom were somehow connected by it.

“I told him I won’t stay with a smoker.” She sniffed.

Josie thought, are you going to leave him too? But she didn’t say it. Instead she asked, “Did you mean it?”

“I don’t know. I have to think about it.” All the anger had left her mom’s voice.

“It’s a big betrayal,” Josie conceded. Her dad had quit smoking three years before. Why would someone start smoking again after having quit for so long? It was a question she still couldn’t figure out the answer to.

“How do you deal with being lied to like that?”

Her mom’s pain made her own pain too real. Josie blinked back tears that begged to reemerge. “I don’t know.”

“I might leave him, you know.” Her mom made it sound like a threat, but Josie wasn’t sure that her mom meant to make good on it.”

“I get that mom, I really do.” It was as close as she’d come to admitting what she was going through to anyone.

“So how do you decide?”

Her mom wanted an answer from her? Josie was incredulous. She wondered if maybe her mom knew more about what was going on than Josie had ever said. But even if she did know, it wasn’t like Josie had an answer—that was sort of the whole problem.

She shot in the dark, not knowing where it was coming from. “I guess you have to decide if what he’s done is a reflection of who he is, or if it’s a reflection of his weakness. You have to decide if he’s worth standing with, even though this happened.”

It was quiet for a long time.

“Your dad is.”

The way she said it… it was almost like she was inferring the other part. Or maybe Josie was projecting. Part of her wanted someone besides herself to say it out loud: but Steve isn’t. But neither of them said anything.

“I’ll talk to you later, sweetie, okay?”

“Sure mom.” Josie felt hollow again.

They exchanged goodbyes and the spell was broken. Josie turned the key and the engine started. As the sun set on the hazy evening of the first day of the first month that would be fall, Josie drove home with her answer.