chloeck

[chloeck]

The last time I saw them was on a cold rainy morning. They used to be my best customers… The coffee shop was bustling as people flooded in to escape the rain. I began to clear the tables, humming to myself as the sweet smell of chocolate croissants wafted under my nose. The bells on the door jingled and a cool breeze sent chills down my spine. I glanced toward the door and saw her. Pale and distraught looking. Thinner than usual. My heart sank. One of the things that I love most about owning this coffee shop is the people-watching. I love seeing my customers become regulars and watching these regulars build relationships. I get to witness little snippets of their lives unfold as I piece together who I think they are. What I think their story is. I’ve watched this girl come in for the past couple of months and have paid attention to her in particular. She sits in the corner in front of the window and oftentimes a boy accompanies her. They reminded me of me and my husband when we were young. When they were together, the rest of the world seemed to fade around them, nothing else could tear their attention away from each other. They would pour over books laughing and chatting away, not a care in the world. I have to admit I may also have liked them so much because they were particular fans of my homemade chocolate croissants. But something about their excitement and passion gave me hope for the future, for the next generation. One day I came into work to find them staring at our collage of photographs that we have on the wall. The young girl saw me and pointed toward a photo in the center. “I love that one! It looks so magical.” I smiled to myself. I had taken that photograph on my honeymoon in Venice. I remember feeling on top of the world as we floated forward through the canals. The colorful houses blurred by as the gondoliers serenaded us. I was so eager to dive into the new chapter of my life. After we came back from our honeymoon we came back and opened this very coffee shop here in New York City. The rest was history. I snapped out of my reminiscent trance and turned to watch the girl who had now sat down at her usual table by the window. She watched as the cars drove by and the herd of pedestrians dashed through puddles. A few minutes later, the boy joined her. But he was not his usual upbeat self. Tired and drained, he slowly sat down. “Oh, dear.” I thought. “This does not look good.” I sighed and continued to clear tables around me. I’d witnessed some interesting things here at this cafe- seen my fair share of first dates and breakups. But I had been rooting for this couple… Eventually, she stood up, gathered her things, and mustering what little confidence I could see she had left, walked out. The door jingled and the Brooklyn bustle carried on…

[chloeck]

“Hi,” she said softly. My heart slowly tore into a million little pieces. She looked tired and yet so beautiful. She wore a black turtle neck and her hair was lazily pulled back into a clip. “Would you like any coffee? Anything to eat?” This was our little routine. She smiled sadly and shook her head giving me a look. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t have an appetite either.” Soft classical music danced in our ears, filling the silence. The violin always stood out to me after she told me it was her favorite instrument. I sighed and looked around, taking in the eclectic little coffee shop I had spent so much time in over the past four years. Bookshelves lined the walls and plants hung from the ceiling. I turned to stare at the collage of black and white prints that hung above the barista station. Our favorite picture was an old print of Venice. Even though it was a picture, the gondolas looked so mobile and graceful, gliding through the narrow canals. We had planned to go there one day and glide through the canals together… “What time is your flight?” she asked, breaking the silence. “6 p.m.” “Are you packed?” This small talk felt weird and unnatural. I felt like we were strangers already. I think in a way, this was her closure. Her way of letting me know that it was time to let go, to surrender. We had done enough fighting and been through enough attempts at making things work. She was already beginning to distance herself. But the last thing I ever wanted was to become strangers. I cleared my throat and started, “Look, I need you to know-” “I know.” She whispered. She sat back, crossing her arms and looking around. The heavy thuds of the raindrops hitting the window began to slow down. After a blur of more small talk avoiding the imminent goodbye, she bravely initiated our departure. Before I knew it, she was walking out the door into the misty morning air. The bells jingled and the door slammed shut. I sat there for a second, unsure of what to do. Before I knew it, I was at the counter ordering a cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant out of habit. I then sat back down at the table, consumed by my thoughts. Life isn’t static. It is oftentimes fast-paced and outside forces can get in the way. Timing, location, opportunities, priorities… When I was younger, I didn’t see these things as a problem. The world used to seem so black and white to me. I thought these things could easily be conquered. And then I got older and the pain and frustration of wrong timing seemed to become a recurring theme in my life that I couldn’t seem to escape. I took a sip of my coffee. It had grown cold…

[chloeck]

The last time I saw you was on a cold stormy morning in Brooklyn, New York City. I remember everything so vividly, which is funny considering the fact that I couldn’t sleep the entire night before. I walked into that old coffee shop that we used to study in together, weighed down by a feeling of emptiness and defeat. Tears swam in my eyes as I inhaled the once-so-comforting smell of the room. The bitter aroma of coffee and old books that overwhelmed the coffee shop used to ignite me with happiness and hope for the future. Hope for you and me. At that moment, these scents were ruined for me. I turned to the left and out of habit, walked to the table in the corner by the window. Suddenly I stopped in my tracks, realizing that this was probably the last time I would ever be meeting you here. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Flashes of us sitting there shot through my brain. I pictured us stealing glances at each other over our laptops while we were supposed to be working. I grimaced as I remembered so clearly our giddy laughing and endless conversation while stuffing ourselves with steaming hot coffee and chocolate croissants. To anyone else, this table was a regular old coffee shop table but to me, it was monumental. So many milestones were experienced at this table. Our first date happened at this table. You said I love you for the first time at this table. You received your first job offer at this table. The job that was tearing you away from me… And now, ironically, we would end things at this table. A tear slowly slid down my face as I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat down. I turned and looked out the condensation-filled window watching the blurry traffic lights change colors and the people passing by, stomping through puddles, trying to escape the rain that was now pouring. Bells jingled as the door opened and a gush of icy wind rushed into the room. My heart dropped and I turned to look at you standing in the doorway, dripping wet with a pained expression on your face. You walked towards me and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The lively cafe chatter faded into the distance and the tables around me melted into my periphery as we locked eyes. Adrenaline rushed through my body. You mustered up a timid “hello” as you pulled the chair out to sit down. It squeaked as it slid over the floor and we both flinched. “Hi” I offered back. We were face to face and my heart stung when I noticed the dark circles under your eyes…