Just the Usual

“Just the usual,” I say to the cashier, but there’s nothing usual about today. Why is he in town?, I think to myself.

“Coming right up!” she says with a smile. I tap my card to the machine on the counter. “Oh and make that for here this time,” I add quickly as she turns around to prepare my order.

I look down at my watch, 8:56 am.

I wait at the counter at the end of the register. Smells of morning time waft through the air, people on their phones wait in the queue, everyone is in a rush to get somewhere. I watch as paper cups before me are picked up and walked out the door. I read the chalkboard menu while I wait, although I have always just gotten the usual.

“Here you are, have a great day,” she says as she passes me a plate with a mug on it, a spoon on the side. She doesn’t need to call my name as she does the other patrons, I am a familiar face here, a familiar order. “Thank you,” I say as I take it and turn around to find a table.  

I briefly weigh my options and envision our conversation. There are armchairs next to a fireplace, but these are meant for closer people, catching up and laughing. There are barstools lining the windows, but these are meant for people on laptops typing away. I choose a spot in the corner, a square table with regular wooden chairs, tucked away from the line of people. I pull the chair out, it squeaks a bit as it slides across the floor. I place the plate on the table, drape my purse strap over the back of the chair, and take a seat.

The clock on the wall reads 9:00am, now I wait. I take a sip, bitter, just the way I like it. Just the way I am, over everything. I pretend to check something on my phone, joining the ranks of the people waiting. I tap the screen and a photo of my cat fills it. I type in my password as if its second nature and I open our last conversation.

“Hey, I’m in town on Thursday morning. I know this is last minute, but I have something important we need to talk about.”

“I can make myself available, where would you like to meet?”

“That place you used to like, you know, the one on the corner. Around 9am?”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

I didn’t know what he would want so I only ordered for myself, he would always scour that chalkboard menu and try something different each time. God, I should have ordered him something, now I’ll have to just wait and awkwardly watch him in the queue. Should I have waited to order for myself? Now it will just be cold by the time he arrives…

The door swings open, the bell chimes on the door frame. My head swings toward the door, a slight panic in my chest. A woman wearing high heels and a black pencil skirt walks in and joins the queue. No, not him.

I glance at the time in the top right corner of my phone, 9:03am. Its only three minutes, but he is late. Maybe I should have gotten here later, made an entrance. Pretended I was inconvenienced by the whole thing, that I was in a rush. That isn’t me though, he would see right through it. Despite it all, he still knows me better than anyone else. I press the lock button on the side of my phone, the screen turns black and I flip it over.

The pencil skirt woman’s name is called, she picks up her paper cup and walks out the door. The bell chiming as her high heels step out onto the sidewalk.

Another sip. The line has cleared now and my eyes wander over to the register. The cashier leans against the counter and sighs, taking a break after the morning rush. She catches me looking and smiles, I smile back and quickly look away.

I must look so stupid waiting here for him like this, is it obvious? What if he doesn’t show up? That would be just like him.

I wonder if I look as on edge as I feel. I flip my phone back over and tap the screen. No new notifications, 9:07am in big white font. I open my messages again anyway, reread our last conversation one more time.

“I have something important we need to talk about.”

I study the words, as if looking at them longer will somehow give me a clue. I lock my phone and this time I put it away in my purse. Well whatever it is can’t be that important if he can’t even show up on time.

I take a big gulp, the warm liquid trailing down my throat, it soothes my irritation for a moment. I place the mug back on the plate and look down at it, it’s already half empty. I’ll wait for five more minutes and if he’s not here by then I’ll leave.

The door chimes again and I play it cool this time, taking a sip from my mug. It’s still not him, a couple walks in through the door. The woman is looking up at the chalkboard menu, deciding. The man puts his arm around her and asks if she’s ready. She nods and smiles, they place their order together. I see him pull out his wallet and tap the machine. My chest tightens a bit.

I watch as the girl behind the counter makes up their orders. They stand at the end of the counter waiting, holding hands, the woman rests her head on his shoulder, they are not in a rush this morning. Their names are called and they walk over to the armchairs by the fireplace with their mugs and sit down. The man takes a sip of his drink and there is foam on his lip, the woman is giggling and leans over to wipe it off for him.

I’m tapping my leg, I can’t tell now if it’s my nerves or the caffeine. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to try to calm myself down. I shouldn’t have come here.

I glance up at the clock on the wall, 9:12am. That’s enough, I’m not waiting any longer. I stand up as grab the mug, I down the rest of it, my throat burning. I take one last look at the door and sigh. He’s not coming. I grab my purse from behind the chair and throw it over my shoulder and just as I’m pushing in the chair…

The bell on the door chimes.