One Cappuccino Please

6.

"One latté, please."

I look at her averted eyes. I had told her to stay away but she still came back. Strangely, I don't feel angry or hateful or anything like that. In fact, I'm glad she came.

I shake my head to rid myself of these stupid thoughts and fill up a cup, handing it to her. She places some change in my palm before sitting down at a table ten feet away from her usual one, because some fat guy is occupying it. I have this insane urge to slap him.

As she settles down and takes a sip of her coffee, I sneak a peek at her book. It's blue and has a girl's face drawn on it, in the middle of a ring created by the bodies of two purple whales. The writing on the book says The Longest Whale Song.

It looks like a little kid's book but she seems to be enjoying it. And for some reason, seeing her groan and sigh and pout while reading, makes me feel good.

As I work, I keep glancing at her, and I find her glancing back at me. This makes me feel good too.

At some point of time, I bend down to retrieve a spoon which had fallen and I hear a female voice speak.

"One cappuccino, please."

I straighten up as quickly as I can, banging my head on the underside of the counter in the process, only to be greeted by a high school male with a high pitched voice. I battle my disappointment, questioning its existence.

Gosh, what's this girl doing to me?

At the end of the day, I walk over to her with my broom. I tap on the table and she looks up at me unsmiling. This is the first time she's greeted me with a cold look. I don't like it. I sit down at her table uneasily, one hand holding my broom, the other rubbing my chin.

"You didn't smile at me," I say, initiating the conversation for the first time.

"No."

"You didn't order a cappuccino."

"No."

"You didn't sit at your regular place."

"Couldn't. And didn't want to either."

I stand up. "Time's up."

"I know."

She buttons up her jacket, picks up her book and heads towards the door.

"Wanna know why everything's different today?" she asks all of a sudden, stopping with her hand on the door handle.

I shrug, my eyes on my broom.

She sighs. "Because I feel different."

My heart pounds. I don't know why but I want to hear more. As my hands move my broom across the floor, my feet slowly move towards her. She takes her hand off the door handle and drops it, letting it hit her side.

"Wanna know why I feel different?" she says.

My feet take me closer and closer to her.

"Because of you," she whispers, taking a step towards me. "Because you made me feel different that night."

I look up at her, processing what she's said, as she takes another step forward, another step closer to me.

"Whatever you said that night," she says. "Was it true?"

I give a small nod.

"What does it all mean?"

I look up at her with an expressionless face and answer truthfully. "I don't know."

She frowns. "Good night."

She opens the door and steps outside, a cold gush of wind swirls past my ankles as the door bangs close. I sweep the floor until there isn't a single dirty spot left. And then I sit down at her usual table, on the very same chair in which she always sits – except for today, of course – and think.

I think of an answer to her question.

Not only because she wants to know.

But because I do too.

AN - The Longest Whale Song is a book by Jacqueline Wilson.