Chapter Text
One day, the employees of the cafe arrived to work and found the lights shut off, no sign of any manager to let them in. They found themselves without a job and with no one to contact about their last checks. It would begin a protracted battle between themselves and their former employer. B would eventually hear of this story from her friend Ophelia, one of the employees slighted, but the day she discovered the cafe was closed, she had no answer for why.
It was a bother, certainly. She had a routine which was carefully executed. With the routine disrupted, she wondered about her next move. It was raining. She stood under the awning and thought about going back home, but she was reluctant to have traveled outside simply to return with nothing to show for it. She had seen another cafe around the corner, one that was quite a bit smaller, but she supposed it would do. She set out to see if it would be a satisfactory replacement, stepping around the puddles that had gathered in the divots of the street. It wasn’t too long a walk - the fact that she had no umbrella wouldn’t be too serious of an issue.
The streets were quiet, despite the location being fairly central to the city. It was early, and it was a Sunday, so there were no workers, secretaries or project managers, fluttering to their jobs in offices way up high. B usually woke around six am, even on her days off. Ultimately, she was a creature of habit, and if her habits served her well, she saw no reason to deviate.
Ophelia would object to this trait of hers. She found it rather boring.
Arriving at the cafe, she found herself pleasantly surprised. The tiled floors were a deep maroon and beige checkered pattern. Vining plants drooped from shelves above her head. In the corner was a mustached brunette man staring intently at a laptop. The barista, seemingly the sole worker present, was steaming a glass. He looked over and a subtle expression of surprise flashed over his face before it disappeared. “Welcome in,” He said, before turning away to put the glass away and scurrying off to do some other task hidden to her behind the large machines and stacks of cups.
She shook her hair out at the door. The heels of her leather boots clicked against the tile as she approached the counter. When he was done with his invisible task, he met her at the register.
“Good morning,” she said.
He smiled. “Good morning, what can I get for you?”
“Just a latte, please. With an extra shot of espresso.”
“Sure!” He took her money and handed her her change, which she placed in the jar next to the register. He glanced at her hands as she did so before quickly turning away; people always seemed surprised at her generous tips, cashiers and friends alike. She supposed it was her demeanor that made it seem strange to them. “Name?”
It seemed odd to her that he had asked, given that she was one of two people in the cafe, but she gave it. “B.”
“Bee?”
“Like the letter.”
“Oh. Cute! I’ll have that drink right up for you, B.” She felt a bit embarrassed at his using her name. Something strange possessed her then, and she did something out of character.
“And your name?”
He raised his eyebrows slightly, which disappeared into his overgrown bangs. “My name is Nines.”
“Nines?” She repeated. “That’s an interesting name.”
He laughed. “I get that a lot.” He raised his hands up from the counter, a gesture that confused her until she noticed a missing pinky on his left hand. “I was in an accident as a kid. Don’t remember it, though. I’ll bring your drink over to you.” She nodded, trying not to seem too surprised at his admission to his lost finger.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
As she went to sit down by the window, she could hear him humming to himself behind the counter as he worked. He wore thin framed glasses, a sweater, worn transparent around the elbows, and corduroys. When he walked her drink over to her, she noticed the cuffed hem, pulled up to reveal hunter green socks. His oxfords were a nice brown suede. He set the mug down on her table. He seemed to hesitate before saying, “Here you go,” and left. She thought about how he needed a haircut.
For some reason, as she read her book at the table, she would occasionally glance towards the counter and watch him work. When the occasional customer would wander in, she listened to him take their orders. She thought he had a nice voice. For some reason, she had an inclination to speak to him more so she could hear him speak, but she wouldn’t know what to say or how the opportunity would arise, so instead, she sat with her legs crossed, looking out the big plate glass windows or reading, as customers came in and out.
“You’ve been here a while,” Nines said as he approached her table. It was closer to 11 am now and more people were seated. Another barista had arrived as well. Her and Nines chatted as they worked.
“Should I leave?”
He laughed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying, sorry. Can I sit?” B felt shy at his directness, but she nodded. He took the chair in front of her. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“No, you’re not bothering me.” She was a bit bothered. Since she had graduated school, she didn’t speak to many people outside of work and her few friends. It was difficult to imagine where their conversation would lead. The uncertainty was unpleasant. However, she was drawn to him in a strange way she had never experienced before, and felt a tinge of excitement that he had wanted to sit with her.
“What are you reading?”
“A book about the student movement during the 60s at the university near here.” She had her finger caught in the closed book, saving her page. She slid the bookmark sitting on the table into the spot and let the book rest between them. “You can look at it, if you’d like.”
“Oh, funny coincidence. I go there.” He dragged the book across the table and glanced at the front and back covers. On his fingernails were hints of cobalt blue nail polish, painted long ago.
“Do you? What for?”
“Graduate program in mathematics. I know, boring. I moved here two years ago to attend.” He slid the book back towards her.
“Graduate?”
He laughed. “I know I look young. I promise, I’m a card-carrying adult. I pay rent and everything.”
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
“No offense taken. I get it a lot. What do you do?”
“I work as a hospice nurse. Usually, I work on Sundays, but I switched shifts with a coworker.”
“A hospice nurse?” He tilted his head. In her mind, a wish that he would look away from her flashed. His gaze was intense, inquisitive. She was certain that he could ascertain some sort of secret about her if he kept looking at her like that, though she wasn’t sure what she wished to hide. “Seems like a grim job.”
“I’ve found it’s much less grim than other nursing jobs I’ve had. It’s more difficult to try to keep someone alive than make them comfortable. Dying people have all sorts of stories, too.” As the words left her mouth, she wondered if it was too dark of a thing to say to a stranger.
“That’s really interesting. Is it sad sometimes?” He didn’t seem put off at all.
“I suppose occasionally it is a bit sad. Most people there have lived long lives. Being in hospice is one of the more fortunate ways to die.”
She thought of a young woman with ovarian cancer who died the week before. Her life hadn’t been particularly long, but her boyfriend sat by her side whenever he could spare the time. The truth was, B was steeped in death even before she had started her position. In hospice, it all seemed a bit more manageable. She had shared with Ophelia before that she thought that everyone was staring down the barrel of a gun. It was easier for most people to train themselves not to see it, but B was comfortable looking at it head-on. Ophelia had hated that, wished she would look more at the life around her. As far as B was concerned, they were two sides of the same coin. B was simply used to that idea. Too many people were shocked at the premise of their own demise. Maybe being familiar with death wouldn’t make it easier when the time came, but she wasn’t particularly concerned by that prospect, either.
“I guess you’re right. Beats starving or dying in a war.” He propped his chin up with his elbow on the table and looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen you here before. Is it your first time?”
She nodded. “Yes. I usually go to the cafe around the corner, but it was closed when I went this morning.” The rain had picked up since she arrived and splattered arhythmically against the window next to them. “I always go on my days off.”
“Do you usually just read?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I do sudoku puzzles.” He laughed and it made her smile. “I do. That wasn’t a joke.”
“Well, that sounds peaceful.” He glanced at his watch. Seemed to her to be a vintage model, or a reproduction, with a tasteful brown leather band and an analog face. “Ugh, back to work soon.”
“It doesn’t seem too bad to me.”
Nines shook his head. “No, it’s a pretty good job, as far as jobs go. There are usually things I would much rather be doing, though.”
“Hm. I don’t feel that way much at work.”
“Really? Wow. Well, I can give you an example, if you’d like.”
“Shoot.”
He stopped for a second and looked down at his hand on the table, smiling shyly, as though he were uncertain if he should say what he was going to say. “Like how I would much rather be speaking to a pretty girl rather than making cappuccinos.”
It took her a moment to comprehend and she felt her face become flush. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Should she thank him? All she could manage to say was, “Oh.”
“Sorry, am I being too forward?” He seemed genuinely worried.
“No, it’s okay.” She was unsure of how to reassure him. She wasn’t sure if it was okay, even. It was uncomfortable, but she also didn’t mind too much.
“Okay, well,” He laid his hands out flat on the table, “Would it be too forward if I asked you for your number?”
She looked at him for a moment, thinking, then rifled through her bag at her side and brought out a pen and a pad of sticky notes. She wrote her number down, pulled the top note off the pad, and stuck it to the table in front of him.
He seemed unsure of what to do with himself. He grinned ear to ear and gingerly pulled the sticky note off of the table before rising from his seat. “Alright, I’ll get back to work and stop harassing you. Thanks, B.”
When he reappeared behind the counter, she could hear him and his coworker whispering to one another. He was still grinning, but seemed embarrassed at what she was saying. B took the opportunity to pack up her things to leave. As she exited, she heard Nines say, at a volume a little louder than was appropriate, “Have a good day!” She pretended as though she was leaving a bit too quickly to respond.