Every Word

The cafe is a bit too bright, the music a bit too loud, the decor a bit too mismatched. I trail my fingers along the edges of the plastic tabletop, staring absentmindedly at my chipped blue nail polish, sitting at the same booth I’ve sat in every Thursday night for five years. It’s the only tradition I really have. Even I look like I belong here, with my baggy jeans and my ratty AC/DC t-shirt and my brown hair pulled away from my face. 

It’s half-full on this particular evening, so there’s only quiet chatter and gentle clinking of silverware as background noise. I like it like this. It helps me clear my head.

I can see the waitress coming my way, the same dark-haired, attractive girl who’s usually on shift when I come in. Her heels click on the linoleum and her smile is bright.

Hey!

Did you do something to your hair today?

How are you?

“What can I get you?”

Her name tag reads Vanessa.

“Coffee would be great, thanks.”

She smiles and turns away, that familiar click of her shoes fading. 

My phone buzzes.

Jasmine: Heyyy! Y’all still up for drinks tomorrow?

My fingers hover over the screen.

Definitely! So pumped to see you all!

All the way! Better stock up on Tylenol…

I type out my reply as quickly as possible. Can’t be leaving people on read.

Yup

Vanessa comes back with my coffee.

Thank you so much.

You free after this shift?

“Enjoy.”

“Thanks.”

The coffee is still too hot to drink. I stare into its depths, as always, watching its dark, smooth, steaming surface. Annabelle liked her coffee with loads of milk and sugar, something pale and sweet and barely recognizable as coffee. Ugh, how can you drink that stuff? she’d laugh, eyeing my cup of black coffee. Black was the only way I would take it. Are your taste buds invincible or something?

I was always tempted to ask her the same question, but I’d just sit there and sip my coffee with a small smile on my face. She’d usually kiss me, then, as the sunrise poured through the window and the birds chirped in the trees outside.

Maybe if I had asked, things would have been different. 

I begin to sip my coffee, as I always do, even though it’s scalding and tastes terrible, as always. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the cheapest coffee money can buy in bulk. It always seems to taste better here, though. That’s probably just my mind playing tricks on me. 

It’s half an hour later when Vanessa stops by my table again, asking if I want anything else, even though I never do. I like to trick myself into thinking that the way she smiles when she comes by means that she does it out of care or something. I like to tell myself many things. 

Twenty minutes after that, I’m staring into my mug again, absentmindedly swilling the last cold dregs of coffee around and around, thinking about all the things I should have said today. 

Are you okay?

Can I get some help with this?

I can’t do that. Maybe Mondays instead?

She’s not going to be coming back.

I’m sorry.

Hey, that’s so cool!

We haven’t talked in a while, how are you?

Granite would have been better than marble.

Always.

No.

Finally, at half past ten, I get up, slipping a tip under my empty mug and walking out the door into the cold January night. I shiver, pulling the sleeves of my black peacoat over my hands and starting down the sidewalk. Everything is bathed in that bright, artificial light, but the sky is dark, and it feels like humanity is making a futile attempt at fighting back the night. 

By the time I turn onto my street, there are just a few streetlights at corners to light the way. That’s okay. I like the dark.

I let myself into my quiet, still, tiny apartment, not even bothering with the lights. I know I’ll turn them off in three seconds anyway as I leave the hall.

I set my bag on the kitchen counter and pull out my phone again, glancing at everyone’s enthusiastic replies to the group chat. I should have written something better.

I shut it off and set it on the counter next to my bag.

My sheets are always so cold. I don’t tend to leave the heating on, so that would make sense, but even after a few minutes of lying there in the dark, it still feels like they’re made of ice, stealing all the precious heat from my body. It feels like they’re trying to make me as cold as the world outside.

When I finally fall asleep, I slip into a series of dreams.

In one, I’m on the subway. I’m surrounded by people who are talking and laughing. They are a crowd, and I am just in the middle of it.

In another, I’m walking down the halls of my apartment building. I can hear noise coming from behind each closed door, but I can never find my own apartment. Even when I reach what I’m sure is the right hallway, it’s still not there. I look at the door numbers. 338...339...340...341...343…. It just skips right over apartment 342. My residence does not belong here, among these lively and buzzing places.

In yet another dream, I am surrounded by everyone I’ve ever known. My parents. My third grade math teacher. My high school best friend. My ballet coach. My boss. Annabelle. They’re all in front of me, crowding and pushing each other to get to me, all of them yelling at me, but I don’t understand them. I don’t understand what they’re saying. When I try to tell them, I realize my mouth is sewn shut.

I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping. The sky is just beginning to lighten, the faintest hints of pink and gold shining over the horizon.

I shower slowly, trying to push away the lingering fear and confusion left over from the dreams. It’s way too early to even think about going to work, so I go to the cafe.

Vanessa is there, wiping down tables for the day. There’s only two other customers, a middle-aged man with a mustache and a hungover-looking college student who looks like they might just fall asleep right at their table.

The sun has begun to rise in earnest, bathing everything in a pink glow. I used to love this lighting. Now it just reminds me of all the things I have to say.

The sound of heels on linoleum comes again, and suddenly, on a whim, I look Vanessa in the eye and I speak up.

“Good morning.”

She smiles, looking a bit surprised.

“Good morning! You’re up early.”

Usually this is the part where I freeze up and mutter something, and the other person smiles and nods and leaves.

“Yeah, well, not as early as you, obviously,” my lips twisting into a small grin for the first time in what feels like years. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad, really. Actually, I got a pretty big promotion recently…”

It’s funny what you miss - the sound of human voices has never been something I’ve been starved of, but it’s so much different when you add your own to the mix.