As if two twins separated at birth...
CAFFEINE
& ROMANCE
Her name was Alicia and she worked at a tiny coffee shop two
blocks away from my home. She had been to my place (where I ran a
little punk-shop) a couple of times and had seen my band play and
liked us, so it only made sense that she would be inclined to
give me some free coffee once in a while, right? [Why am I asking
you?! Of course I'm right!] Anyway, she was very pretty and had a
sweet, goofy voice that only added to her appeal. She rented a
room in her parent's house in the low-income part of town and I
lived in a 300sq. ft. office space on the third floor of a stuffy
building with no ventilation. Each morning I'd roll off my couch,
click on the light, and try to get cleaned up enough to face the
world for my morning caffeine and testosterone injection (Just
kidding, I didn't inject testosterone into anything). Then, I'd
hop on my bike in the summer, and slip on my leather jacket in
the winter and braved whatever Jack Frost had to throw at me. It
could have been 30 below 0 and I would have gone there (and a few
times it was!).
Out my door, down the hall, three flights of stairs and out the
back door. Across the parking lot, past the Performing Arts
Center and City Hall. Three blocks south and around the corner to
where the ATM machine used to be and I was there. Usually, the
first thing I saw would be her on the phone, then she'd
intuitively glance over her shoulder at me, say a few words to
her friend and hang up. It was only about 50 ft. from the corner
to the front door, but by the time I got the door open, the
espresso machine was already pissing out foamy brown coffee-love
meant specifically for me. Usually I could manage to say
something to the effect of "Hey, how's it going?" but
by the time I got the last word out, I was being handed my cup
and one of her smokes so we could stand outside and talk. After
an hour of conversation I would decide it was time to head back
and open shop. She always seem depressed to see me go.
Over time Alicia and I became pretty good friends. She started
coming by my place after closing and hanging out. I'd play her
the new music I recorded that week and we'd talk about what we
wanted to do with our lives. She was inspiring, she was a
positive energy to counterbalance my negative existence, she was
great. Eventually came that moment that was inevitable I guess...
As much as we'd all like to think that males and females can be
friends without any expectations from each other, I think we have
to accept that this isn't entirely true. If you take two single
people that are looking for something that just so happens to be
what each other can provide, try to make them friends with each
other then let them spend a night in a room with nothing to do,
by morning you're probably gonna have two people acting
differently toward each other and a room that smells funny.
At the time I didn't have a car, so whenever we went out
somewhere, she would be the one driving. We'd often end up back
at her place where she had a land-camera. We took pictures of
each other wearing weird costumes then we had a few laughs as the
film developed it's self. I'd eat her food, drink her beer, and
avoid her drunk step dad who always wanted to talk to me about
his cover-band. In the end, after her coffee shop moved across
town, we started seeing less and less of each other. Not long
after that, I'd only see her around maybe once every couple of
weeks. We'd still be happy to see each other, but we no longer
made plans to meet up later. Strange how that happens. In some
ways I miss her. In other ways, I'm glad we never really got
serious about our relationship and maintained a friendship that
lasts to this day. There's nothing to look forward to when it
comes to breaking up with a girlfriend, and I'm lucky that I
didn't have to deal with that. Okay, so I didn't have sex with
her or anything, but we definitely had our nights of passion.
Wait, you probably don't want to hear this... Sorry!
Anyway, when ever I think back to the year I lived in that
miserable 300 sq. ft. room without a view, I usually think about
Alicia and how she helped it all make sense. The
hazelnut-shooters, quad-mint-mochas, vanilla-lattes. Her smile,
her voice, her body. They all live on vividly in my memory, and I
doubt I'll ever get another mocha that will compare to her's.