The Ritual

The sun slid steadily through the gap in the curtains. Rita yawned loudly and stretched luxuriously, arching her back and rustling the sheets. Heaving the sheets to the side of the bed, she sat up blinking. 

   She looked at the alarm clock and hit the button before it could go off. A heavy sleeper, Rita had deliberately purchased an alarm clock that was loud, obnoxious and discordant. An actual assault on the ears. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Cool air hitting her bare legs, and hastening her steps. 

   She splashed tepid water on her face, cupping it in both hands. She snatched a small hand towel from the pile next to the sink and lightly patted the terry cloth over her face-a quick damp dry. As she headed for the stairs, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her right ear. She slid her hand along the railing noticing a stickiness, and made a mental check to clean the railing at some point. Something of a clean-freak, Rita wondered how that had gotten past her. This morning you could easily sail an entire fleet past her.

   She entered her small kitchen, the floor cold against her bare feet, giving her chills that crawled up her legs, and she made a beeline for her coffee maker. Her morning routine. She grabbed the carafe and filled it with cold tap water, letting it run over the fingers of her other hand to make certain of the temperature. Her apartment building was old, and water temperature and heat were iffy at best. She poured the water into the reservoir, she pressed a filter into the basket and she smiled to herself. Coffee always made her smile. As always, her morning ritual. 

Rita looked forward to this every morning. It made getting up something to look forward to. 

   Now, for the coffee. 

   She pulled open the door to her refrigerator, a sharp blast of cold air hitting her already chilled legs. She gave the bottom of her nightshirt a tug, feeling the cloth slide down to her knees, grateful even for that small bit of warmth, and grabbed the bag filled with her favorite blend. Holding the bag close, she could smell the coffee through the closed bag. 

   Rita savored the smell of the coffee as she spooned it into the basket.This part was a tease. She closed the lid and pressed the brew button. 

   Rita liked a brand of coffee that was a dark, bold blend. Every morning it filled her small apartment with a scent smooth as velvet, deep, rich, penetrating. It wrapped her in its rich aroma from her head to her feet. It slid like silk over her arms and legs brushing lightly against her face, penetrating all exposed surfaces of her skin, and stirring her sense of smell. Coffee was a sensual experience for Rita. It was physical. 

   It was her morning ritual. It made getting out of bed in the morning well worth it. It was bliss. Sheer silky bliss. Smooth rich silky bliss. A small but necessary self reward every day. 

  And today more than any other day Rita needed this reward. The breakup. Painful. 

   After 4 years, Rita and her boyfriend Todd had broken up. Rita had sensed this was coming. A sense of staleness had begun to creep into their lives. Rita had tried repeatedly to talk to Todd about this, but his mind was elsewhere. Todd had seemed preoccupied. Barely there, even when he was standing right in front of her. At first she had ignored all the small signs. The obvious ones. Nowhere near as affectionate as usual. No interest in sex. Short clipped answers to her attempts at conversations. Staring into space. Out to lunch. No interest of any kind in their lives. 

   Both of them were coffee aficionados. A delicious addiction. Their love of coffee was something they had shared, something they had in common, something they laughed about when they had first moved in together. Rita had the bigger apartment so the decision had been a no-brainer. Last 2 mornings in a row Todd had claimed he was running late, and would grab a cup on his way in. Rita wondered if her mouth had actually hung open at that moment. Not her best look. Probably the one he would remember for the rest of his life. 

   Since when didn't Todd indulge in their shared passion? Their morning ritual. That first delicious sip filling your mouth, sliding over your tongue, your taste buds alive with expectation. The shared small laugh. The knowing look.Two heads bent over their cups, the air between them redolent of that rich enveloping smell. Two cups hitting the sink in unison. A hurried kiss, and out the door. Gone, gone, gone. 

   Rita had stood watching, crying as Todd jammed articles of clothing into his overnight bag. He had snarled something as he headed for the door. Pulling the door shut, actually slamming the door behind him. What he had said, Rita did not know. But it hardly mattered. It didn't matter anymore. Obviously. 

   Rita took her first sip, alone in her small kitchen. The sip was rich, rewarding. And the smell was amazing. The taste. She savored the mouthful, the warmth spreading everywhere as she swallowed. The tingling of nerve ends. A feast for the senses. A full body experience. Physical. Satisfying. 

   Abruptly, Rita slammed her cup down on the countertop. Memories of Todd. Too many. She picked up her cup and headed for the sink. She emptied her cup down the drain. Every drop. Placing the cup in the sink, she spun around and turned off the coffee machine. She grabbed the basket and emptied both basket and filter into the waste bin, allowing the lid to slam itself shut.. She picked up the carafe and carried it over to the sink. She poured the rest of the coffee into the sink, rinsing the carafe once, twice, rinsing the sink out at the same time. 

   Well, so much for that.