Coffee Rendezvous
I sit alone at the table-for-two with my cup of coffee and look out the window, waiting. It's 14:00; she'll be here any minute. When I see her, hands hugging her hips in the pockets of her navy blue dress, arms dancing with her body with every rhythmic step, my pulse quickens to allegro. I close my eyes and gulp coffee over the silver rim of the mug. The earthy smell and nutty taste transport me to another world. As I bring the cup from my lips and open my eyes, she's standing over me.
"Hola, Miguel," she says, playfully. "Couldn't wait for me?"
"Hey, Sofi. Here ya go," I say as I slide a caramel macchiato to her seat. It's been her drink of choice since our first date in high school. "And it's Michael. You know how I hate it when you call me Miguel."
"Sorry, mi amor. You know that's why I do it." Sofi kisses my cheek and takes a seat.
We talk, about work, about life, about everything, like usual. Our coffee breaks together are always too short, so we quickly get to the point where we discuss the terms of our next rendezvous. Last night was my place, so tonight it's hers.
I pick up sweet and sour chicken with fried rice and spring rolls from our favorite Asian restaurant on the way. One pair of chopsticks for me, and a fork for her.
"I'm just saying, you'd think after eating Chinese food like every week for at least the last five years you would have learned to use chopsticks by now," I joke.
"I'll learn how to use chopsticks when you lose one of your two left feet," Sofi says as she salsas in her chair. I nearly snort miso soup out of my nose.
We snuggle on the couch, sipping wine and streaming another episode of Jane the Virgin. I spend this episode intoxicated by Sofi’s hair. Cascading waves of black, like the ocean after nightfall. Only up this close can you tell it's really a dark, espresso brown. I lose myself in thoughts about how lucky I am to have her in my life. Before I know it, the episode's over. We share a shower, then bed.
My alarm buzzes me awake. Sofi's a heavy sleeper and doesn't need to get up yet. I kiss her forehead, lingering long enough to wake a normal person, and head to the kitchen. She doesn't have enough eggs for omelets, so I whip up french toast instead.
"Something smells amazing," Sofi mumbles as she pulls a chair away from the table. Her nose woke her before her alarm would have. Her sultry pajamas steal my gaze as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. I smell one side of the french toast starting to burn. After breakfast, we share another shower and get ready for work.
"Buen día, Miguel. See you at coffee. Adíos, mi amor," Sofi says as she blows me a kiss and gets into her car.
"Bye, Sofi. See you at coffee," I reply and wave as I get into my car.
My workday flies by as I think about how perfect things are right now. It's already time for our daily coffee date. I sit at the same table, looking out the window, waiting for her. I see her in the park across the street and close my eyes as I take a long sip of my earthy, nutty salvation. As I bring the silver-brimmed cup from my lips and open my eyes, I see that it's empty, and I'm transported back to reality, to regret.
My watch says it's 14:15 now. I look out the window and see Sofi, a vibrant latina in a navy blue dress with wavy, espresso hair. She beams as her husband brings their child to play together at the park.
I get up from the table to pay my bill and return to work. Honestly, I'm happy for her—for them. But, I'm happier for the me in a parallel universe who had the courage to talk to the girl of my dreams in high school. Even if that parallel universe only exists in my dreams.