Coffee

Part Five: Coffee or Tea?

Walking into Daphne's, I feel at home- which takes some of my nerves away. Sitting down at my normal booth, I grab the menu and Max sits across from me.

"So what kind of tea are you going for?" He asks and I look up at him.

"None..."

"But...."

"What? Because I'm British, I must drink tea every chance I get?" He blushes madly- embarrasses by his assumption.

"I mean..."

"Listen, though it is true, we drink tea more than coffee- not everyone does. My family grew up on coffee because my father was born and raised in Ghana- which was a few countries west of Ethiopia- where coffee originated from. His father's brother worked on a coffee bean farm and on Holidays gifted my father's family with just that. My Mum on the other hand grew up in Iran- where many families only drank it in coffee shops and switched to tea as the more popular drink." I don't know why I'm giving him a history lesson on it, but apparently my brain thinks it's necessary. His smile only grows the longer I talk though. "When they met in London in their early twenties- both had this same argument about which to drink- father declared our home a coffee zone and Mum agreed as well, but keeps her own kettle separate for when she's in the tea mood. I'll also let you in on the information that coffee has steadily taken over popularity in the UK. So now you know."

God, if I didn't sound like an arse yesterday- I definitely sound like one today.

"Phh....I am now very well educated on the coffee tea subject...now what about espresso?" He jokes and I raise my eyebrows.

"Evening- I'm Gloria- what can I start you two off with?"

"I'll have a Black Eye- please." Max stares at me like I have three heads and then shakes his so he can focus.

"Alright and for you, sir?"

"A Black Tie, please. Oh and could I also order le croissant emballé as well. Anything for you?" I shake my head and Gloria wrights everything down.

"One check or two?" I go to say two and motormouth Max beats me to it.

"Just one." Nodding, Gloria leaves and Max watches her go and then looks around the cafe before turning back and finding me flowering at him. "What?"

"One check? Really?"

"What? You said The Tavern: your treat so..." He tries to be serious, but I can see he's cracking slightly.

"Alright. I see. My treat." I state and his face immediately drops and he begins shaking his head.

"No...no, Helen, I was joking. I'm getting it."

"No- I got it." I love watching him panic. He tries to make I joke- I switch the joke around on him- and now he's sputtering like a twit.

"Seriously, I was just joking. I'm paying..."

"We'll see." I say and he swallows hard in his throat and now I see it. The mass. The cancer. If you didn't know what to look for- you wouldn't even notice it, but I do and therefore, it's plan as day. Taking my eyes off his neck, I shift them to his blue eyes that are oceans- big and bright and as blue as they could get. They're beautiful. "So, Max- tell me a bit about yourself."

Like I don't already know most of your personal secrets.

"Oh...well, um...grew up in Manhattan. Had a twin sister- Luna and a dog named Stumpy because he only had three legs...Luna found him when we were five and begged mom and dad to let us keep him. Went to NYU for my doctorate- did my residency at Baptist and then worked as the Medical Director at Chinatown after working there for five years before coming here." Wow, he's excelled. I heard about what he did for the hospital in Chinatown. Completely rearranged how they worked over there and turned a profit for them and it only took a year to do it. He's been rumored to be the hobbyist for turning dilapidated out of era hospitals on their head and make them better.