1000 Paper Cranes

Chapter 10 -985

"I know a great little coffee shop." Robin had said, directing me where to go. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't like coffee.

As we drove, she chatted happily. I learned that her favorite color was lavender and her favorite movie was You've Got Mail. I learned that she secretly loved science fiction books and wanted to be a civil engineer when she grew up.

"This, Johnson, is called small talk. It's better than random facts at initiating conversation." She laughed, not mockingly.

"Small talk was studied in 1923 by Bronislav Malinowski." I responded automatically. "He called it phatic communication which means it only fulfills a social task, not to offer information."

"You're missing the point." She smiled, her face illuminated by the street lights as we drove past them. "The way you get to know people is by fulfilling that social task. Nobody cares what you know about the world until you show them you care about knowing them. Life is about more than quantifying knowledge."

This was an alien concept to me. All I had was knowledge. All I knew were facts. There was nothing else in my life. I mean, I was Fact Freak, for crying out loud!

"Jordan, what's your favorite color?" She asked, still directing me to her coffee shop of choice.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I don't really have one, I guess."

"Oh, come on. Everybody has a favorite color."

"Fine," I resigned. "It's brown."

She wrinkled her nose, making a displeased face.

"Brown's not a favorite color," she giggled.

"And just why not? It matches everything I wear. It's the color of my hair and your eyes." I blushed as the last bit tumbled out of my mouth. I wasn't ready for her to know just how much I had noticed her eyes.

"You see—your reasoning is logical. Haven't you ever been whimsical? Joanna says you haven't, but I'm convinced that deep down under that hard exterior, there's a boy waiting to belt Journey on a road trip with fuzzy dice hanging from his rearview mirror."

I pulled into a low-key parking lot at what was obviously an old house converted into a coffee shop. The door was painted bright yellow and the soft sounds of calypso music and steel drums drifted from the other side.

I opened the door and was hit by a wall of fragrant odors. I smelled coconut and vanilla and espresso and chocolate. It was almost nauseatingly delightful. I smiled, the spicy smell of chai drifting its way toward me.

The coffee shop was very odd, itself. There was a live calypso band playing in the front room and a row of filled seats for an audience. But to the left, the wood-floored hallway led to a dark room, lit by black lights. All the furniture glowed bright colors and the whipped cream on the occupants' drinks glowed blue. There were stairs leading to a second floor, but I couldn't see what was up there.

We approached the counter and Robin ordered the largest cup of coffee that I had ever seen. I approached and ordered a chai.

"No." Robin looked to the cashier, aghast. "Are you not a coffee drinker?" She turned to me.

"Not really," I answered a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, we're going to have to fix that." She smiled. "Johnson, go upstairs to the Book Room. I'm going to permanently change your life in a minute."

I did as I was told. Making my way upstairs, I looked at all of the rooms.

There was a room decorated in all pastel colors with beanbags and lava lamps everywhere. Next to it was a white room with chrome-colored furniture and glass tables suspended from the ceiling. There were a lot of power outlets on the walls and a sign read Cyber Café.

Finally, I came to a room with studded leather arm chairs and parlor lamps with colorful glass shades. The walls were lined with built-in bookshelves, filled with books with tattered colors and yellowing pages. The room smelled musky, of old paper like a library. I could get drunk off of that wonderful scent.

As I waited for Robin, I scanned the titles of books. They appeared to be mostly fiction—I hated fiction—and many were by authors I'd never even heard of.

Soft footsteps announced Robin's entrance. I looked up to see a large blended drink in her hand. Her massive cup of coffee was already half-empty.

"Try this," she offered me the cold drink. I took it, reluctantly.

"I'll try it," I concede. "But I don't like coffee. Especially not cold."

"You don't know what you like, Johnson." She smirked.

Upon taking my first sip, I realized that she was right. I didn't know what I liked. I fell into caffeinated paradise as I drank more. I suddenly felt like I had the blood of the gods surging through me.

"This is amazing!" I said a little too excitedly. "How did you know—"

"It's a gift of mine," she cut me off, running her fingers over the spines of the books on a shelf. She walked her fingers along the books as she browsed.

"Picking books for people is another gift of mine." She pulled a couple of books from the shelves and stacked them on a table beside one of the leather reading chairs. "For instance, you probably only read non-fiction. You think fiction is too fanciful."

How did she figure me out so well? She was better than Joanna at this psychology stuff. That was exactly why I didn't read fiction.

"So these are some books that are going to change your opinion of fiction." She sat at last, patting the chair beside her, inviting me to sit beside her.

I sucked slowly, silently on my drink for a moment. It was silent again. I loved silence. I reveled in silence.

"Is this my reading assignment, Ms. Chiang?" I smirked.

"Well, I declare," Robin laughed, putting on a Southern accent. "Did you just make a joke, Jordan Johnson? A little delayed, but a good start."

Except for the whole bloodied nose ordeal, I could not imagine a more perfect evening. I was glad to be in such a quiet coffee shop, rather than a loud football game. We were in a setting that appealed to me; I could collect my thoughts there.

"Can I ask you a potentially personal question?" Robin asked, her brown eyes focused on my own.

"Sure." I was hesitant, to be honest. But sharing personal information was how two people formed bonds. At least, that's what Robin had said.

No amount of hesitation, however, could have prepared me to answer the question that followed.

"What's with your obsession over folding paper cranes? It seems like such a mundane thing for a deep-thinker like you."

I suddenly felt even more self-conscious than I had when my nose was bleeding. I knew that I'd have to answer that question eventually, I just hoped I wouldn't have to answer it so quickly.

"Um. Well," I began, trying not to stammer. "It's really kind of embarrassing. Try not to laugh until we're through hanging out, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes locked on me. I knew she wouldn't laugh; something in her eyes convinced me.

"Do you know the Japanese legend of the paper cranes? The legend goes that if somebody folds one thousand paper cranes in one year, they're granted a wish."

Robin nodded again. I searched her eyes for any kind of amusement. But she seemed to be listening intently.

"Well, I challenged myself to fold them all this year. And on each crane, I write a wish. So this is my year of a thousand wishes."

Her face turned into a gleeful smile. Her eyes sparkled in the light. I prepared myself for the coming teasing. It was sure to be relentless.

"Are you finished folding all of them?" She asked, sipping her coffee.

I wasn't. I had fifteen left. It was doable.

"When you're finished, let's make your wishes come true."