The Unexpected

She was taking the long way over.

The main street veered around the houses and tall pine trees of Altadena. The purple mountains to the left, the city of Los Angeles to the right. It had been three years since she had been to this cafe. There was now a whole other human that she had to lug around from place to place, sleeping quietly in his carseat. Motherhood had hit her blindly and struck her with full purpose. She adjusted her rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of his full-cheeked face resting against the cushion of his carseat. He was nestled warmly in his home-knitted, yellow sweater. There was an “S” embroidered over the front. 

Sai was well into her thirties and very much attached to the gems of her homecity: the local cafes, two bars, hiking areas, small Ma and Pa pizza joints. She loved this city, but it had its downfalls. There were many late nights in her early twenties that she had spent crashing at friends houses, mornings she needed to ease her hangovers by indulging in greasy food spots the morning after, rolling up something to ease her mind. Everyone knew everyone here. 

The smell of her husband’s cologne was still faint on her shirt from the kiss goodbye. She had been getting ready, looking at the photo of all three of them: her husband’s best friend, and her, arm in arm on the college campus they had shared. 

“I haven’t seen that one in over a year. Sam.” He leaned his arms around her shoulders from behind, kissed her neck. “Tell your friend they’re welcome for dinner if it goes late,” he said, pulling away in his collared suit, walking out of the front door. 

Coming back from revisiting earlier, Sai shook off a wave of anxiety and pulled into the quaint cafe, letting an older couple cross in front of her. As soon as she found a parking space, the ignition shut off to a standstill, the keys clattered into her lap, and she released a monumental sigh of relief. Her eyes were closed, and her seat was reclined back as far as it could go. 

To her dismay, when she opened her eyes and sat up, she caught sight of a thirty-something year-old man, stubble growing in, with gray freckling his dark hair, sitting directly in front of the cafe windows. It was the man from the photo. His mustache dipped into a black, porcelain mug, and his eyes turned in disbelief when he saw her. He recognized her instantly, and walked over to the entrance, nearing her car. 

“Sai?” 

She almost considered turning over the key and leaving the cafe. All of her nerves were lit up and her anxiety set in. There was no backing out.  After she had become a Mom, every decision in the moment needed a once-over.  Leaving might have played out in her mind, but she would need to act differently in this scenario. A moment later, her door was opened and her thumb was unlatching the baby’s belt. His eyes opened in wide alert, realizing that the car had stopped. He was pulled into her arms in one sweeping motion. 

“Sam,” she replied, as if with pleasant surprise. She walked through the door he held open.

“It’s been…” his speech broke off as if unable to finish his sentence, for lack of not having a viable number.

“Almost two years,” she said with an incredulous smile.

They went inside of the small cafe, with wooden floors and ceiling fans. This was definitely a landmark of the small city. Though it had changed owners every handful of years, it held onto its comfortable charm and lived-in feel. There was artwork over the walls, watercolor, an uplifted stage area for performances that were held on Thursdays. It was warm inside, with beds of flowers and vines outside of the windows in the patio area, and smelled like pancakes as soon as you walked in. The sound of conversations issuing from a few nearby tables came to a soft, background mutter.

“Reigh, I have your oat latte,” the sound of the barista, a young twenty year-old with thick, rimmed glasses and short hair, called out. Her green apron was decorated with an array of colorful pins. She looked out into the chaos, realizing it would be minutes before anyone’s head looked up to claim the latte. 

Sam pulled out a chair for her,  and placed the baby carrier on the table next to them. 

“I got a coffee,” he said, as silence began to fill the space between them. 

“Did you want anything? I could go and-my treat.” He fumbled with his hands and realized he was standing up, in an awkward position. “Just happy to see you, honestly.”

“I’ll have a flat white,” she said, cooing the baby as he started to wake a bit more. 

“Flat white,” he repeated in happy confirmation, a twinge of excitement in his voice. She watched as he ordered the flat white at the register, using a lot of hand gestures and the frankness she had admired about him years ago when they first met at this cafe.

He came back to the table in high spirits. 

“Would you like to start first?” 

He seemed genuinely interested. Probably wondering why he had driven down on a Thursday to see a woman he thought he had left behind. She nodded. 

“I left the firm, and I have this guy now.” Sai nodded in the direction of the baby. 

“How old is he-?”

“He’s almost two. Do you want to hold him?” 

“Sure,” he said, reaching two arms out with an air of unease. 

She gently placed the baby in his arms, supporting his head.

“You’re a natural,” it was a vote of confidence, but there was truth in it. He did seem natural with this baby.

“How’s Jay?” he asked, not keeping his eyes off of the little one. The baby looked up at him with an amused look, so Sai didn’t feel the need to intervene quite yet.

“We got married,” she responded, holding up her left hand that sported a delicate ring. 

“Wow. Married.” he said, taking his eyes off of the little one for the first time. “Good for you, I wasn’t sure how things would work out after.” 

He kind of cradled the baby and then handed him back to Sai.

“I’m really sorry for the way we left things. “I mean I shouldn’t of, let things get as far as they did.” He looked into his hands.

“I was there too,” she said, to lighten things. “I decided to let things get that far.”

He looked up and into her eyes for the first time since the car. 

“I was really worried if you were okay. I wanted to reach out.”

“I should have reached out,” she offered. “I was juggling a lot.”

He looked over at the little one. “I bet you were.”

A moment of silence fell between them.

“I’ve thought about that moment everyday since. I felt so guilty. You had both tried for years, and suddenly…”

She looked up at him.

“We did try for a few years. After he was born, we had trouble at the doctor’s office one day. His vaccines. Allergies we both never had. The blood types.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes watering. 

“I love my life. I really love this baby, regardless…” She started to let the budding tears in her eyes fall. 

Sam looked taken aback, his gaze fell into his folded hands. 

“I love this for you, Sai. I also really care for the woman who had this baby. And I know, my best friend will love him almost as much as I would, if I were cut out for it.”

They shared a quiet moment, looking away to avert the heaviness between them. The ceiling fans continued to add to the background sounds, conversations held up in sprightly bursts throughout the shop. There was the sound of glasses clinking and the fresh smell of coffee being ground. She remembered sitting just a table away, ten years prior, studying up late hours until the cafe closed. They both shared this dream of being the best lawyers in the city, eventually moving out of the area. In college, she started dating Jay, and everything changed. Now it all seemed to be undone, very far away from her. 

“What did you name him?” Sam broke the silence, changing the subject.

“Sam, sam I have your coffee and flat white ready.” The barista’s voice carried over the quiet mutter. 

“We named him after you,” she said, turning a little red. “You stopped visiting. Come have dinner. It can’t be like before, but you should be around if you’d like.”

He nodded and got up to retrieve the flat white and coffee,  looking over at her and baby Sam. It was going to be an interesting year, an even longer drive home.