Cross

12 | Starbucks Conversations

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."- C.G. Jung

Chapter Twelve

"I'll have a Tall Cinnamon Dolce Latte," I said, as I stepped forward to the counter with bills in hand. On second thought, barely glancing at the menu, I added, "Actually, make that a Grande."

The girl behind the counter nodded, cursorily making eye contact, before grabbing the appropriate sized cup and asking, "Name?"

I hesitated for a minute - there were reasons why I rarely ever dropped by in places like Starbucks. There was always that moment where I had to pick lying or telling the truth, and neither were preferred choices of mine. The truth would put me in a tight spot - I wasn't fond of the idea that my identity would be out in the open for the world to see, written cursively on a coffee cup - but the lies would keep my soul up at night.

When someone coughed behind me, however, a split-second decision was made. The same one I made time after time after time.

"Julia," I told her. She nodded, visibly relieved that I didn't waste any more time answering and provided her with a name that was both easy to pronounce and spell.

Handing her the exact cash, I moved off to the pick-up line, drifting in and out my surroundings and thoughts. In fact, I was so unusually out of tune with reality that despite my name being called over and over again, I remained unfazed, lost in my own thoughts. Now, granted, the woman who made my order - Olivia, as her nametag informed me - was calling out a pseudonym that I had created on the spot and wasn't used too, but still. As an agent in charge of innocent lives, on a mission to save the city, I should've been more focused and I was, typically.

Perhaps, that is why when I felt someone sneak up behind me and tap my shoulder, I jumped higher than I would have under normal circumstances.

"I think, that's you?"

I turned around, my heart lodged inside my pharynx, with the wheels in my brain turning at a speed faster than light, full on expecting to see a chainsaw-wielding lunatic, or Blaze, - same difference, right? - but instead found myself looking at a familiar face.

"Are you alright?" she asked, perhaps noticing the blood drain from my face in those few seconds my brain concocted millions of possibilities.

I swallowed harshly, the veins in my neck straining. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure? You seem a little tense."

Dry laughter fell out of my mouth. "No, I'm fine. I just thought you were someone else." Before she could get in another question, I leaped forward to the lady delivering my drink and claimed my fake name.

"Sorry, I'm Julia," I said, reaching for the drink. She smiled at me in that I-don't-quite-believe-you-but-okay manner and told me to enjoy my drink. Giving her one of my own cryptic smiles, I walked away towards my (now) companion, who looked just teaming with questions.

Before I could even try and formulate a response that would subtly change the subject and quench her curious thirst, she asked, "Did you think I was Blaze?"

Looking around with slightly widened eyes, I grabbed her by her forearm and pulled her away from potential eavesdroppers and said, "Can you not?"

A hand on her hip, she pulled her arm back and insisted, "Did you?"

I tried to use my psychoanalytic skills to determine just exactly why she was hell-bent on questioning me - I really did! - but my energy had been all used up earlier with my partners-in-crime, during brain-storming and I wasn't in any mood to answer questions that I didn't have the answers to. Not until I had a sip of my drink, at least.