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"Doesn't all this opulence make you sick?” The Artist scoffed, rolling her eyes at the chintzy hotel cafe’s decor as her breakfast companion, famous vengeful spirit and Youtuber Sadako Yamamura, gives an unenthusiastic nod in response as she pokes at her strawberry crepe. “They bring us here to this resort and for what? To rub elbows with Bubba Sawyer? The fifth most famous Ghostface? The Trickster?” Carmina viciously stabs through her breakfast sausage, annoyance at even hearing The Trickster’s name spurring her into breakfast based violence. “You and I are the only ones here who make real art and we shouldn’t be cooped up here with the rich, we should be doing as we always have, spreading our art to the people.” An idea for a new cursed tape bubbled up in Sadako’s mind but she squelched it at its inception; she had promised herself this week would be a break from work and she knew her friend needed the same. Sadako meekly raised her hand as if asking for her turn to speak. No one really had the strength to stop Carmina Mora once she was heated about something, let alone a woman as quiet as Sadako, but this tactic almost always worked.
“Doesn’t the way this place is run bother y-?” The Artist stopped, noting Sadako’s raised hand. “I’m sorry, Sadako. You had something to say?” Sadako was relieved, she never begrudged Carmina these trains of thought but they were here, on IP Island, for a purpose; Sadako would now remind her. “We both need to step away from things. We don’t have to see these ‘celebrities’ and Fingernail-Gate was clearly a tipping point for both of us. So no work, no worrying about collaborations, and no phones. Especially no phones.” Memories of comments sections roasting Sadako’s (lack of) nails flooded back to her, threatening to incite a flood of tears under her raven black hair. She remembered the absolute furor that Carmina typed out as she responded to every single negative comment about Sadako’s removed nail beds and how it the ensuing fallout had derailed both one of Carmina’s openings and one of Sadako’s convention appearances. She shuddered. The battlefield of the comments section was far more destructive than anything any of these monsters could do. Nothing to be done. It’s vacation time! The air conditioning was freezing. Sadako said the first thing that came to mind in order to escape dwelling in the breakdowns that led them to needing a vacation in the first place, “I could use some coffee. Could you use some coffee?” Carmina smiled warmly and responded as such, “Coffee would be nice.”
Neither of them wanted to ring the little table bell that would summon the help. It felt like an inappropriate use of their power and influence but it was all expenses paid. After some deliberation, the two women resolved to simultaneously press down on the button in order to split the culpability. This resulted in a hollow clang that did not carry back to the kitchen. They tried again. Clang. “I’ll ring the bill,” Sadako volunteered, allowing Carmina to remove her inky hand from the device. They both tried to pretend the metal had not been dyed black as a result of their gambit. DING. The chime rang out, followed immediately by a woman’s gasp from the next room over that was quickly drowned out by a horrible metal clatter. Soon, a young red-haired woman emerged from the door; her IP Island uniform accessorized with a surprising amount of jewelry. Fog from the kitchen fading from her thick, round glasses. Her demeanor changed quickly when she saw the two women, switching from outright fear to the regular amount of customer service driven fear. “Good morning Ms. Yamamura and Ms. Mora. What can we get you?” the waitress asks, clearly having done her homework. Carmina’s eyes were transfixed on the waitress’s shiny silver necklace; she instinctively turned away from the large bird woman whose eyes were fixed on her breasts and to the short mop-headed ghost instead.
Clearly designated the leader by the wait staff, Sadako wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity. “We would like some coffee. What would you recommend, Miss…?” The server was clearly not used to either being addressed nicely or being asked her thoughts on her craft here so went wide eyed at the simple question. “Oh! Uh… My name is Mikaela. How do you usually take your coffee?” Mikaela’s simple question was followed up by a beaming explanation of the options, “I actually supply IP Island with all of our proprietary blends and I roast and grind them personally! I highly recommend our blonde roast. I try to call it ‘Beach Blonde’ but management says that it’s too tacky for the menu. Sorry I said too m-!” Carmina Mora, enamored at the way Mikaela lit up passionately when talking about her creation cries out, “We will take two cups of the Beach Blonde, please!” Both Sadako and Mikaela jumped at the sudden outburst, startled. Mikaela giggled, taken by the avian woman’s enthusiasm and by hearing her blend addressed properly for the first time. “I’ll have those right out for you!” she gave Carmina a little wink as a final flourish before she turned to leave. Sadako grumbled to herself about preferring dark roast and turned to her friend. She recognized this look in her friend’s eye and knew what was coming. Carmina’s entire vacation was about to end up revolving around this barista. No use fighting her on this. It was going to happen. This is the kind of thing her therapist told her about when they talked about not worrying about things you can’t control. Sadako let out a sigh and gave her approval. “She seems nice.” Carmina’s inky tears dribbled all over the table, unleashed by the beauty that she just witnessed. “Did you see her passion?” she sobbed out. Sadako nodded sagely, “Yes, she loves those beans.”
The next few moments consisted of the two women frantically trying to clean up her tears and psyching Carmina up for Mikaela’s inevitable return. Sadako hated to see it every time that The Artist had failed to get a date. The despondent squawking, the fetal position, the sadgirl Instagram poetry, the works. It would be impossible to enjoy her vacation if her friend was suffering and this twee little hipster was exactly Carmina’s type. Sadako clasped her friend’s stump and walked her through some meditations, “Carmina, relax. Breathe in. Breathe out. Think of quietly brushing your hair in a mirror. A veiled man pointing at the ocean…” When it was clear that she was together, Sadako began affirming her friend, just like Carmina had done for her so many times, “You are beautiful, you are brilliant, and you are one of the greatest artists of your time. Tell her you’re interested and she will appreciate you. You have this under control.” She released her. “She’s on her way back. I believe in you.”
Mikaela returned with a tray, two coffee cups and saucers, black, with a communal porcelain creamer and some dainty sugar dispensers. “Your blonde roasts are here. Please, don’t hesitate if there’s anything else I can get you!” Mikaela explained as she set them down. Sadako gave a warm nod in response. Carmina boiled over, “I must draw you.” she blurted out. Mikaela’s customer service acumen could not have prepared her for this statement. “Excuse me, ma’am?” she responded harshly, turning to The Artist, facing her eye to eye. “What are you saying?” she snapped out. Sadako could fear her entire vacation potentially dying at this moment. Carmina opened her mouth again, “Mikaela the Barista, I see a passion within you. It has captivated me. My hands long for nothing more than to make you the subject of my art. Please, when your shift ends, become immortal with me. Be my muse.”
Mikaela was gobsmacked. She began imagining this large, terrifying woman painting her like a scene from some overwrought late 90’s romance as she eyed the woman up and down. She was beautiful. This was the first time in the entire interaction where she really got a good look at this cassowary of a woman in person. Passionate artistic types were just her type. She was pretty in her client file but this was different. This was the first time someone wanted to listen to her in a while; she may have done a bad job sitting quietly and listening but she had the spirit! The enthusiasm was so endearing. The notion of being this thoroughly appreciated made her shudder in anticipation. Mikaela brought herself back to reality to make a response, “You know what? Fine. Paint me like one of your French girls. I get off at 3:30.” A sigh of relief escaped from Sadako while the barista and the artist gazed longingly at one another. Her vacation was probably safe and now she’d have time to catch up on her novel.