Something Brewing

Trigger Warning: domestic abuse

The stainless steel lock clicked abruptly in the front door, and Kathryn was bolted back to reality with a little jump. 

“Whoa, you ok, Kathryn?” Mark asked from the next table. Both had been wiping down tables in the small coffee shop getting ready to close up for the night. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I think I zoned out. I’m almost done,” she replied hurriedly. 

“It’s ok, we’re in good shape. Why don’t you head out and I’ll finish the rest,” Mark offered and stepped closer. 

Kathryn instinctively stepped back. Another going-away gift from Paul: a perpetual fight or flight response to every man around her. 

“No really. I’m fine. I’ll go put away the mugs from the drying rack, if you want to refill the creamer station. There’s not much left to do,” Kathryn said with an apologetic smile. 

Mark, her new boss, was nothing but a sweet gentleman since she started two weeks ago. If she had to guess, she’d say he’s about five years her senior, putting him around 30. He took over the coffee shop a year ago when the owners had to move to another state to help out with aging parents. 

Kathryn could relate to the moving part. She’d just moved here herself. Not exactly by choice, but by necessity. Things had gone south, way south, with her husband. It got to the point where she had to choose her life over some naive version of a hoped-for “happily ever after.” She shuddered at the memories. The drinking, the screaming, the fear. 

But now she was Kathryn. She wasn’t Beth anymore. Beth was gone, dead to her and her past. She had cut all ties in Connecticut, and moved to Ohio with no intention of going back. He promised he’d kill her. She believed him. 

The slam of the kitchen door startled Kathryn and she dropped a ceramic mug she was absently holding. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! Here, let me get that, don’t cut yourself. Those mugs turn into tiny knife blades when they shatter! Trust me, I’ve dropped my fair share!” Mark offered with a smile to lighten the mood and try to ease the fear he saw in Kathryn’s eyes when the mug shattered. 

“I’m so clumsy, I’m so sorry!” Kathryn insisted, tears welling in her blue eyes. Paul’s words began to echo in her head. 

“You stupid clutz! Why can’t you do anything right! A monkey could make dinner better than you. You burned the chicken and dropped another glass! Why I married such a moron I’ll never figure out. You damn idiot…” he’d said. Along with more colorful variations over the two years they were together. 

He’d convinced her to get married after six months, and she stalled with “planning” for about a year after they met. Not wanting to rush into things, she had tried to suggest waiting. Why move so fast? That turned into an argument that ended in bruises she’d hid from her family and friends. Thinking it wouldn’t happen again. Only, it did. And yet she still married him, chalking it up to stress that caused him to act like that. Telling herself it would stop once they were married, which was all he wanted. 

Technically, they were still married. Too afraid to file for separation or divorce, Beth had left in the middle of the night while Paul was passed out after another night of heavy drinking. Her bag was hidden in the trunk of her car, and she just drove. And drove. Until eventually she stopped off in Yellow Springs to fuel up and get a bite to eat. When she sat in the coffee shop and nibbled a cinnamon scone with small vanilla latte, she couldn’t ignore the feeling of “home” that overtook her. She felt safe. Everyone smiled at her. And Mark, working the barista that day, had put a little smiley face next to the name she had given the cashier. “Kathryn” just came to her when she asked what to put on the cup. And Kathryn she’s remained. 

“I think we call it a night. And I think I’m going to take you down to Terry’s Diner for the best late-night pancakes you’ve ever tasted,” Mark said in a fake-stern voice. He crossed his arms and gave her a wink. “I won’t take no for an answer,” he said. 

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no? And, how did you know my weakness for late-night pancakes?” Kathryn smiled. 

“Don’t you remember? It was one of the questions on your job application. Past restaurant experience, wage expectation, and late-night meal preference. Trust me, it was all there,” Mark said as they both laughed. 

It had been so very long since Kathryn laughed. Mark’s kindness made her feel like there was a silver lining to the dark cloud that has been hovering over her for the past two years. 

They left the coffee shop, and decided to walk the two blocks rather than drive. The air was warm, but a cool August breeze hinted of the Autumn that was coming. Fresh air, and a fresh start. 

Mark led Kathryn to a booth in the front, claiming he liked to look out the window as he ate and watch the night crowd go by. “I’m not a ‘night person’ myself, exactly, but I still like to see everything going on in town.” 

“I’m not much of a night person either,” Kathryn laughed. 

“So, should I start putting you on the opening shift instead of closing up with me?” Mark asked, nervously stirring his coffee. 

“Nah. I think I’ll stick with the night shift. I mean, if the possibility of more late-night pancakes is still in the cards…” she said, smiling with her whole heart. 

“I think that’s definitely in the cards. But, you don’t have to keep breaking mugs for me to offer. I’m game anytime you are, Kathryn,” Mark said. 

Something about the way he said “Kathryn” made her start. A slight pause, and inflection in his voice. Oh my God, he knows. 

Kathryn dropped her fork and felt her face turn as red as the neon sign blinking “Open” in the front window. She felt her stomach drop, and a wave of nausea ran through her. It was all over. She thought back to Mark’s reference of her job application. She absolutely had lied on it. Former employers, references, job experience, the works. She wondered what he knew, and how he knew it. Did he somehow trace her to Paul? Does he know where she is now? 

“I…” was all she could stammer. 

“You ok? Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost walking down Chestnut Street,” Mark said and looked out the window in an exaggerated way to make her smile. 

Maybe, he didn’t know? Could she just be on guard and imagining things? She looked out the window half expecting to see Paul standing there. Ready to take her back to Connecticut and the hell that was her life. 

“I’m fine. I just…Mark. There’s something I should probably tell you,” she said. Not wanting to live in fear again. 

“Does it have anything to do with all the phony references you gave me?” he asked. But he smiled when he said it. He wasn’t mad. He popped a bite of pancake in his mouth, and took a sip of coffee. 

“Wait, you know they were fake?” Kathryn said in a whisper. 

“Of course. I was just waiting to bring it up, and didn’t really know how. You’ve been so jittery since you started, and at first I thought it was just my incredible good looks throwing you off. Wouldn’t be the first time, you know,” he laughed. 

“Well, that’s a valid reason I suppose,” Kathryn said, starting to ease up. Maybe this wouldn’t be the end after all. 

“All kidding aside, you seemed on edge long after new-job nerves should have worn off. So I thought maybe something else was up. But I didn’t want to press it. And when I called two numbers “no longer in service”, and a discount pet supply warehouse as your restaurant references, well, I just figured I’d give you a chance and see what was going on when you were ready,” Mark said. 

“Mark, I seriously can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. That may have very well been a life-saver risk for me. Things have been rough for me lately. And I needed this chance,” Kathryn replied. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me when you’re ready. There’s no rush. And, for what it’s worth, it wasn’t a coincidence you’ve been scheduled to close with me every night. So, there’s my confession. I hope you’re ok with that.” 

“I’m definitely ok with that. And I appreciate your patience. Maybe a few more of these late-night pancake trips to Terry’s will be enough to fill you in,” Kathryn said. 

“I think that’s a great plan. Now eat up. Terry is going to come out here soon waving a spoon asking why you aren’t eating. She takes personal offense to anything left on a plate. You’ve been warned,” Mark said, as the two finished off their plates. 

They walked back to their cars at the coffee shop. 

“Thanks for the pancakes, Mark,” Kathryn said as she got in her car. 

“Thanks for ending up in my coffee shop, Kathryn,” Mark said, closing her door for her. 

Kathryn drove back to her tiny apartment, and felt free. She didn’t know if she’d tell Mark everything. And he really wasn’t pressing her to tell him anything. She was perfectly content letting this brew, and seeing what would happen. A little piece of fear seemed to leave her soul, replaced with a little piece of something else she couldn’t quite place her finger on. Maybe soon enough, she’d figure it out. 

She got changed for bed, and for the first time in over two years, slept soundly as crickets chirped softly in the night. 

The End