Chapter Text
There's something interesting about working at a coffee shop. You see all kinds of people from all walks of life. You’ve got the regulars, the ones whose order never changes. You learn their names, you banter for a few moments, and sometimes you even learn a bit about their lives. Then you’ve got the familiar faces. They come in often enough for you to recognize, not enough to know their order right away and not enough to have more than a polite “Hi, welcome back, how are you?”, in terms of conversation. Finally there's the strangers. People who stop in and never come back. Some are polite enough, they give a smile, stay quiet, and never come back. On the other hand some strangers are the type to pay for a $7 iced vanilla latte with a $100 and expect you to have enough change in your register at six a.m. They’re the ones that cause the most problems and give off the weirdest vibes. Makes you happy they aren’t regulars.
Today was different though. There were no regulars, no familiar faces, only strangers. She didn’t work alone, but it felt like it. Her coworker was silent, and she didn’t know how to spark a conversation; given that this wasn’t just a coworker, it was her manager. Beyond that, the world seemed eerily silent around them. She had been placed on closing shift; usually the cafe’s she worked at closed around seven p.m, this one closed at nine. According to her boss, this town had quite the nightlife and this cafe was just down the block from one of the most popular clubs in the area. Traction picked up there around nine-thirty, so it made sense for them to close just before. Catch the stragglers who don’t drink right before they go watch “the performance of their lives.” She chose to pay her boss very little mind on topics pertaining to outside the walls of this establishment; he didn’t seem like he was quite all there.
Regardless of sanity or lack thereof, he still hired her, and she needed it. Who was she to judge, given her current circumstances? When he said she’d be working close, she happily agreed. When he said she’d work every day of the week, she happily agreed. When he said she might have to cover certain shifts, or pull a double, she happily agreed. So to keep a long answer short, she wasn’t. The only thing she was entitled to judge was her own decision making. All she was doing was hoping that it didn’t back fire.
Silently she loosely wrung the rag over the bucket before wiping down the counter top. It had grown sticky from the accumulated syrup. Crusting over a once smooth surface, almost invisible to an untrained eye; but you could feel it. She pressed harder into the counter, scrubbing until the rag glided over the counter with ease. Then she placed the rag back into the bucket and returned to the counter. There were no customers, why would there be? It was eight fifty-three on a Tuesday night in the middle of August. The only thing that graced their presence was a slight breeze blowing fallen leaves into the windows, shrouding their view of a beautiful night sky. Not like you could see the stars, the light pollution was far worse than you’d believe from an outside perspective, but she knew they were there. Stars were the only consistent thing in her life. Sure they changed, but there was a pattern to it; they were predictable. That predictability was comforting.
She couldn’t help but smile as she gazed out the window, waiting for the final minute to pass her by. Waiting for the sweet release she had learned to call freedom. The seconds ticked by like hours, but eventually the clock struck nine. Without a word she began clearing the area around the register. Taking cups, java jackets, and lids to the storage room. The once quiet music suddenly grew in volume as her coworker flipped the sign to close, locking the entrance, ensuring their peace. She simply nodded her head to the beat as she took syrups and teas to their rightful places. Gathering all things metal to throw in the dishwasher, clearing the sink so she could hand wash certain dishes as her manager counted the register. She carefully scooped the cafiza into a portafiller before locking it into place and starting the cleaning cycle on the espresso machine. She placed the shower screen, washer and all, into a strainer. The strainer sat within a metal bowl, so when she added cafiza and hot water it didn’t drain out. She waited patiently for the espresso machine to run through its 2nd rinse, before she removed the portafiller and repeated this process on the other side of the machine.
She carefully screwed the shower screen back into place, opened the dishwasher, and closed the storage room. She pushed the door handle down a few times to ensure it was locked before handing the key to her manager, who put it in a pad lock and switched the numbers around so no one unauthorized could open it. The two glanced around the shop, making sure everything was clean behind bar. While she had been cleaning the machine, her manager had cleaned the lobby. Mopping down every square inch and placing chairs on tables. It looked spotless. Seeming satisfied, her coworker nodded their head and tucked their apron next to the rags.
“Good job today.” Was all they said as they headed for the door.
“No problem.” She followed close behind, ready to leave.
No more were exchanged between the two, mutual exhaustion was palpable, but instead of heading towards the parking lot, her manager turned and walked up the street. She couldn’t help but glance at them, then the car she had seen them step out of earlier this afternoon, then them once more. She simply shrugged, too tired to give it much thought. It wasn’t her life, why should she care what a coworker does, their both adults after all.
She approached her car, letting her back hit the driver side door as she looked up. The beautiful night sky was glowing, not in a natural way, but in a way that made it impossible to see the stars. The street lights illuminated far more than the road; much to her dismay. Still she smiled as she stared. Beauty is hard to come by in this world, at least the raw, unfiltered, unbridled kind. She let out a sigh as she turned around and opened the door, sliding into the seat and starting her car. She placed an arm over the passenger side seat as she looked behind her, backing out of the space and driving out of the lot.
She couldn’t help but notice the club as she drove. Even on a Tuesday night there was a line outside the door and colorful lights seeping through every crack. It almost looked animated.
She was never one for clubs, bars sure. Who doesn't like a drink every now and then? But there was something about a club that steered her away; it wasn’t the dancing music, you would find that in any dingy old place across the globe. No, it was the performances. The way people could stand on a stage and capture a crowd, effortlessly. She would surely trip, stumble over her words, or just freeze. Just the thought of it racked her body with second hand embarrassment. She could barely make it through a rom-com or a horror movie without experiencing a similar feeling. Protagonists were too dumb, too shameless, or too self assured for her liking. There was no logic in the way they behaved, no rhyme or reason, they simply “followed their hearts”. She could never. She worked solely with facts; or at least she did, up until recently. It seemed foolishness was something that even she couldn’t evade forever.
Though she would keep trying.
She focused her gaze back onto the road, driving past the club, flushing all thoughts of it from her mind. She just wanted to get back to her apartment, eat dinner, and go to bed. So she did.
She drove into the parking lot, parked her car, and ascended the stairs until she reached her apartment door. It was a soft click, something she was grateful for after a long shift. The darkness greeted her with open arms before she ruined it with the bright overhead lights. She locked the door behind her, walking over to her fridge, and taking out pre-sliced lunch meat. She placed four slices between two pieces of cheap white bread, chewing it slowly. It was so dry that it stuck to the roof of her mouth and behind her teeth; she had to use her fingers to scrape it off. It was a miserable feeling, a miserable dinner, fitting for this time in her life. She shut the lights off and walked over to her bed, a few thoughts ran through her mind as she settled under the covers and stared at the ceiling.
Did I do the right thing? Was this worth it?