Work Text:
“One flat white with two sugars coming up!” Marlene yelled before the bell by the door could even go off. The girl, or woman as Marlene should call her, came in around the time she usually did, looking as immaculate as ever.
Dorcas approached the counter with a smile and a nod, her card already ready in her hand. She dropped a loose pound in the tip jar, a gesture that had become a part of Dorcas’ routine, and she made her way to her familiar seat in the corner of the cafe.
James lifted one eyebrow as Marlene handed him the coffee cup but said nothing as he went on to make the coffee. She knew he had read the note; she knew he did it every day, but that was fine. She wasn’t ashamed; she might be a bit embarrassed, but if there was someone she could be embarrassed with, it was James. Marlene complemented Dorcas’ hair today, her braids half tied up with a purple and silver ribbon, perfectly matching the outfit Dorcas was wearing that day.
It wasn’t busy in the coffee shop; it never really was. But definitely not at 8 in the morning, just 30 minutes after they opened. They would get a slight rush in about 30 minutes, just after Dorcas usually departed, but their rush just meant primarily full tables, not a line all the way outside. Not that Marlene was complaining; she liked the regular crowd she had made for herself. And, most importantly, it paid the bills.
Marlene looked away from where she had been staring and glanced at Dorcas. Marlene learned her name the first day she came in. She did the usual spiel: What would you like, what kind of milk, and the name for the order, trying her absolute best not to make her head light up like a tomato during the entire interaction. Marlene had written her name on the cup that first day—nothing special, just a prayer that she had spelt it right.
But Dorcas kept coming back, so Marlene went from writing just her name to adding hearts, stars, whatever she wanted. Now, almost a year later, Dorcas' name was nowhere to be seen but in Marlene’s mind as she came in every morning. It was replaced by messages, compliments, anything Marlene’s mind would supply right at that second.
In a few seconds, James would call out Dorcas’ name, and she would walk up, take a sip, turn the cup, smile a fucking ‘gain, even wider than before. A smile that made Marlene’s insides melt, and then she would walk out the door, and Marlene would see her in a little less than twenty-four hours again.
“Flat white with two sugars.”
Dorcas was wearing green today. Marlene could count at least ten shades herself, but she was sure that when asked, Dorcas could tell her exactly how many there actually were. Dorcas changed out her usual gold ring piercing in her nose to a green gem, sparkling brightly against her dark skin.
Dorcas paid with a tap of her card and a clink of a pound in the tip jar. She leaned in a bit as she did it, and Marlene could spot all the different gems and stones Dorcas had hidden in her hair from this close. And if it took her a second longer to write on the cup than usual, James didn’t mention it.
‘My favourite colour is green’ was the chosen phrase for today.
Dorcas sat at her usual spot and walked up when James called her name, smiled that fucking smile and left.
“A flat white, two sugars.” In a yell.
A black and white outfit
A tap of the card, a clink of a jar.
A note: ‘Your eyes are sparkling today.’
The usual table
A name
A smile
And she was gone.
“One flat white and two–” Marlene cut herself off as she looked up at a man who was definitely not Dorcas. He gave her a bit of a weird look but seemed to have shrugged the interaction off by the time he reached for the counter.
“One Americano,” he said in an American accent.
“Of course,” Marlene smiled sweetly. “Anything else?”
“Nope, that’s it.”
“And can I get a name for the order?”
“Jake”
After paying, he walked further into the shop, and Marlene mindlessly scribbled his name on the cup. She looked up when she handed the cup to James, mainly just to gauge his reaction, and that was when she spotted the seat the man had taken.
If James hadn’t held her back, she would’ve walked up to the guy and told him to move, but James was strong, and Marlene was admittedly very small. So the guy kept sitting in the chair and James was even petty enough to go the bathroom right then, so Marlene had to make the man’s coffee and call out his name. Marlene had to watch as he sat back down on that god-forsaken seat and watched how he slowly slipped his coffee for the next half hour.
She was so busy seething and glaring daggers at the guy that she didn’t even notice the time until he had left, and then she realised that Dorcas had never shown up.
Ever since Dorcas first showed up a year ago, she had been in here every single work day, every single fucking day Dorcas had come in at 8 in the morning, every single day except today.
Marlene tried to keep up hope. Maybe she would come in later, perhaps she’d stop by for a second, maybe she would come just so Marlene could see her again.
But Marlene watched the time tick by between customers and coffees and more customers and coffees, but no flat white and no Dorcas ever showed up.
Marlene even contemplated staying open late, just for a small chance. James took her keys and locked her out.
Marlene tried to keep her head up the next day, but 8 o’clock went and left, and then 8:30 had the same fate. You could call her dramatic, but she honestly didn’t think she’d ever see Dorcas again.
But two minutes before nine, the bell on the front door rang, and Marlene looked up and froze. Because there she was, and Marlene had never seen her in such a state before. Dorcas was still beautiful, of course; some (Marlene) would even call her breathtaking. But she was looking a bit rough around the edges. Her hair was pulled away in a bun, which looked like she might’ve made it some time ago because several pieces were hanging out, which did not look intentional.
She was wearing a long skirt and a blouse that did not match, and Marlene admitted that she did not have the best fashion knowledge or a sense of it at all. But she did know that a bright green skirt should generally not be matched with a just as bright orange blouse. Of course, Dorcas was still rocking it, but Marlene couldn’t help but imagine that if you turned the girl upside down, she’d look just like a carrot.
However, these thoughts were quickly forgotten when her gaze finally made it to Dorcas's face. The dark circles under her big, puffy eyes and the sunglasses that she normally wore were sticking up in her hair and looked stuck.
Marlene couldn’t help herself as she stepped forward. She didn’t even know why she did it, maybe in a desperate attempt to help Dorcas with what she was unsure. Unfortunately, the only thing she achieved with the action was a particularly painful hip check into the stone counter.
And Dorcas, bless her fucking heart, did an awkward stumble to catch Marlene in some way and rushed out, “Jesus, are you okay?”
Marlene couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she gasped. Are you?”
This seemed to shock some normality back into the situation, and Marlene spotted Dorcas physically straightening. Dorcas took a step back with a nod, “Yeah, I am fine, I’ll have–”
“A flat white and two sugars, yes, I know.”
With a nod and a swipe over her cheek, Doras moved to her usual table.
Marlene had to shake her head to get out of the trance she was in and remembered that she hadn’t even grabbed a cup yet; she went for them but got intercepted by James’ large hand pushing a warm coffee cup in her hand. He had made Dorcas coffee during the time Marlene had been zoning out, and he had even grabbed one of the good cups, the ones she had been saving for something special. “What if the queen comes?” she had said when James first asked, not that matters now.
He had put a little heart on top. Not that he could actually do latte art, but he had been trying to learn, and most of his attempts fell straight into the ‘close enough’ category now. James smiled at her warmly when she took the cup from him and winked when she went out of the barista area and walked over to Dorcas.
She put the cup in front of Dorcas with a tiny clink, startling the other woman from where she had been lost in thought. Dorcas smiled when she spotted the cup, “What is it, some kind of special occasion?”
“It’s as good as one, don’t you think?” Marlene joked back.
Dorcas smiled at that as she took a sip, humming before bringing the cup back down. “You have got to teach me how you make your coffees so good here.”
“Company secret.” Marlene winked, locking her lips with a gesture, “Besides, this one is all James’ expertise.”
“Oh yes, James, funny guy,” Dorcas said as if remembering an old friend.
“That he is, did you know…” Marlene started, and somewhere between the start of that story and before the end of it, Marlene had taken a seat across the table from Dorcas, not that she regretted it.
“And that is how he came to work here.”
“Wait, you mean to tell me he started working here just because he was bored.”
Before Marlene could confirm this statement, James interrupted, “Gossiping, are we?” He said, putting a tea in front of Marlene, a carrot cake in the centre, and two forks.
“We would never,” Dorcas said smugly, grabbing a fork and digging into the carrot cake.
“Of course not,” He said, with that big smile of his, and was off.
Marlene and Dorcas said in silence for a second, both enjoying their drinks and the dessert.
“Can I?” “So,” They both said simultaneously.
“You go.” They said together again, quickly giggling at their symmetry. Dorcas was the first to stop laughing and pointed to Marlene to continue.
“I just wanted to ask you,” Marlene started. “And you don’t have to answer, of course. I can return to being your barista in a second and leave you alone. But it will eat me up if I don’t ask, but what happened yesterday and today?”
Dorcas was silent for a second, and Marlene really thought she fucked up for a second, that she had ruined the only opportunity she would have to talk to Dorcas. But then she opened her mouth.
“It’s just this fucking client I have, so I work for the Black’s right, which isn’t peachy as it is, but they pay well, so who am I to complain. But they’ve got this one woman, daughter, cousin, depends on whichever side you want to look at and god, and I swear she hates me.” Dorcas said.
“And she, okay, so there is this ball this Saturday, so literally in the two days, two days. And we had all the outfits ready, drawn up, designed, and sent to my seamstress. Most of them are already done, for god sake. And she had the fucking audacity to call me yesterday morning at fucking five, saying she had an epiphany and needed to wear this dress or whatever the fuck it is on Saturday. Not only then, but she demanded I go to hers and listen to her spew fucking bullshit high as a fucking kite at the crack of dawn, trying to fucking figure out what the fucking fuck this woman could mean with her babbling.”
“And then when I think I have finally figured it out after hours sitting there, I sent a rush order to literally everyone I know that could make this happen because, like I said, they are the fucking Black’s and even though she is a massive fucking bitch she is still a client. So I rush order all that shit for this fucking big ass thing to be done in time for the ball. And you know what she did, what she just fucking texted me this morning. ‘Oh no, never mind. That was an ugly idea, so I will wear my original dress.’ But the original dress was put on hold to make this fucking thing, and now this thing is done because my employees worked all fucking night because this thing is big, it’s so big, and I know that the bitch would want to make a million changes because it was ‘my fault’ for not correctly making her idea, so I wanted it to be done early so we could do that. But now she doesn’t want to wear it anymore, and I am stuck with the thing, and no dress for her to wear, and I can’t ask my seamstress to do it again; I just can’t, which means I will be sowing all night and–”
That’s where she trailed off, taking a couple of deep breaths and a sip of what must now be a pretty cold or at least lukewarm coffee.
“That’s… a lot,” Marlene said because she had no idea what the fuck else to say.
“You could say that,” Dorcas answered with a laugh.
“But okay, I might’ve missed it, but I'm hearing clients and sowing and thing, and maybe I should’ve connected the dots, but I haven’t, so help me out here.”
Dorcas’ mouth made a little ‘o’ as she listened to Marlene’s question. A tiny blush crept up her cheeks when she answered, “I’m a fashion designer slash seamstress. I don’t know why I assumed you knew that.”
Marlene nodded as the puzzle pieces started to fit together in her head. Client, dress, seamstress—it made sense now. Even the masterpieces of outfits Dorcas showed up in every morning finally had a place that fit.
They forgot time after that, not for too long; of course, Marlene did have to go back to work, and as Dorcas had explained so eloquently, she also had things to do. But they had talked until the cake was gone and the cups were empty, and Marlene wouldn’t and couldn’t expect anything more.
The next day, the interaction went back to normal. Dorcas came back in at her usual time, and Marlene yelled her order before she even properly came in. Dorcas paid with a card and tipped with a pound. Marlene wrote on a cup, and James made a coffee and yelled a name.
Dorcas smiled at them.
Everything was the same, yet something felt different.
Everything went the same, and yet something was different.
Everything the same, or the number scribbled onto a cup was something different.
It had been Friday when Marlene had given Dorcas her number, and she would genuinely not lie when she claimed she didn’t expect anything. Of course, she hoped; who wouldn’t after giving their number to the girl they liked? But it was the weekend, and Dorcas had been pretty stressed when Marlene had seen her last.
Dorcas could have also missed the number on the cup; Marlene was praying she didn’t, but in all her years, she has learned to keep an open mind for her own sanity.
Save to say Marlene did not expect a text on Sunday morning. She was lucky that the vibration woke her up. It normally wouldn’t, and since it’s the weekend, she usually takes the time to sleep in after having to wake up at the crack of dawn every weekday. Some (James) didn’t understand how she could wake up at six every single morning but be able to sleep in on the weekends. She called him a weirdo and continued on with her routine.
But this meant that even though she had woken up with less sleep than usual, this fact did not help the confusion from getting a text from an unknown number. It definitely did not make deciphering it an easy task.
She did decipher it after spending around five minutes staring at the text, wondering which of her friends' numbers she did not have saved in her phone and who would be awake this early. She was only a tiny bit embarrassed about the stumble she made when she did connect the dots and jumped out of bed.
Swearing as she sat down and rubbed her shin, Marlene read the text repeatedly, waking herself up in the process.
I realise this might be a bit weird, but I am awake and craving a good coffee, and since my usual place is closed on the weekend, I thought I’d come straight to the source.
Marlene needed another five minutes to think of a reply, but she did eventually.
Yes, yes, I know a place.
*Location*
How’s that?
After that, Marlene put her phone down, getting dressed and trying to ignore the vibrations on her bed. She couldn’t seem too desperate after all. There was a text from Dorcas waiting for her when she returned to her phone.
That’s perfect
Meet there in thirty minutes?
Marlene had to muffle her squeal in her fist as she texted a reply. Dorcas wanted Marlene to be with her.
Yes
I’ll be there!
Again, Marlene is not at all embarrassed by how quickly she ripped off the clothes she was currently wearing. They would simply not do anymore. She opened her closet once more, sighing at the single blouse that hung there, and closed it again; she walked over to the pile of clothes she had accumulated in the corner of her room. Marlene picked out her favourite t-shirt and gave it a complementary sniff before deciding it could go for another wear. The jorts and Doc Martens she paired it with were a given.
The coffee shop was about a 15-minute walk from her apartment, and she had spent enough time trying to tame her hair that she had to forego any breakfast (or even a sip of water) to make it on time.
She did not make it on time; when she entered the cafe, Dorcas was already seated at a table in the corner. Marlene had a tiny little panic about whether she should order or go to Dorcas first. She chose the second option. In Marlene's opinion, embarrassment was a better look than rudeness.
Dorcas looked up once Marlene reached her table as if she could feel Marlene there. Dorcas had a cup in front of her, but it looked untouched, with one sugar packet on the dish under the cup. She gave Marlene one of those smiles that made her legs feel like jelly and her insides like butterflies.
“Hi,” Dorcas said.
“Hi,” Marlene said back, not stopping the smile that was starting to bloom over her face, “I will order for myself,” Marlene added, pointing to Dorcas’ cup. “Need anything else?”
“No, I’m good.”
Marlene’s tea was ready in no time, and she didn’t even think about grabbing the extra sugar packet on her way back to the table.
This time, Dorcas was watching as Marlene walked up, a tiny smile, lifting just the corners of her lips. The smile faltered slightly when Marlene put the extra packet in front of Dorcas. She stared briefly at it before lifting her eyes to meet Marlene’s.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’ve been coming to my shop for a year now, and I know how you like your coffee.”
“You don’t.”
“What?” Marlene said, and before she got a chance to continue, of course, she knew how Dorcas liked her coffee, but the other woman interrupted her.
“You don’t like coffee.”
It startled Marlene. She glanced down at the teacup she had just placed there, an entirely unconscious reaction, before sheepishly answering.
“No, I don’t,” she murmured, still looking at her cup. She tentatively lifted it and took a sip.
“You own a coffee shop but don’t like coffee.” Dorcas reiterated.
“I didn’t know it was a prerequisite.” Marlene quipped at her, putting down her cup.
“Oh, I’m sure it isn’t, example A.” She said, pointing at Marlene, “But it is still curious.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Marlene hid her smile by lifting her cup again and taking another sip.
The story of how Marlene started the shop six years ago wasn’t particularly special or exciting, but she told it anyway. She told it, and Dorcas listened as if she wouldn’t rather do anything else.
It was nice to tell the story all of her friends already knew, to talk about her parents and her brother, to learn about someone else’s. Not because it felt like a requirement but because they wanted to know, listen, and tell.
To forget the start of one story and the end of the next, to continue on each other and hop back to a missed story. To tell stories you have forgotten and stories you never will. To learn the person across from you by their history and voice.
Marlene would be a liar when she said this was usual because, in reality, it was far from. For her, it usually involved a drink bought and a forgotten name, a kiss that didn’t linger, and a number that would never be used.
It wasn’t coffee in the morning, a conversation til midday, a grumbling stomach from a time forgotten.
A grumbling stomach that led to a walk through London to a sandwich shop and sauce dripping down the corners of your mouth, a thumb that wasn’t yours that wipes it away.
A hug that might have lingered too long.
Or just the right length.
Three more coffees served right at 8, three more pounds and three more notes written on a cup.
The next time Marlene saw Dorcas outside their usual time was a complete surprise for her.
Every Wednesday night from 5 to 8, Marlene’s shop held an open mic night. She set out a guitar and piano for whoever wanted to play, sing, or both.
She started them as a joke; James had just been starting to learn the guitar, and she wanted an opportunity to embarrass him. Except that James wasn’t half that bad, and the nights were a hit.
People would show up to her coffee shop just for these nights, some people she saw every day, some she only saw on Wednesday, some she had never seen before, some were brought and kept coming back, some who wanted to sing, some who wanted to watch.
Marlene had started making soup every Wednesday, served with paninis and sandwiches for those who wanted them.
Four years, for four years she had been doing these nights. It had been one year since Dorcas became a regular at her shop, and not once had she shown up on one of these nights.
Not once, not once until today.
Marlene dropped the canister she was holding when she had spotted Dorcas at the door, spilling milk everywhere. She couldn’t care less about the mess she had made when the most beautiful woman she had ever seen was standing before her.
She was wearing a purple floor-length gown and a dark blue shawl on her shoulders. Although she was entirely overdressed, she was shining.
Marlene didn’t yell this time, not like she had this morning. She just smiled and said, “A flat white and two sugars.”
Up close, Marlene could see the sparkles Dorcas had everywhere: on her eyelids, on her cheekbones, in her hair, disguised in the tread of her shawl, purple, blue and pink. An entire galaxy was standing in front of her, smiling at her. Marlene wasn’t sure how anyone was supposed to function like that.
“No, actually, I would like a homemade iced tea. And I have heard that the soup here is a masterpiece.”
“I wouldn’t say masterpiece, but it is home mode.”
“Your home?”
“Hmmhmm,” Marlene affirmed. She wasn’t sure she could even say words anymore, not with the way Dorcas said those words, not with the way Dorcas was looking at her.
“Must be good then.”
Marlene just nodded at her, and fortunately for her, Dorcas left the counter after that, but not after clinking the pound in the tip jar, but right before Marlene had the chance to embarrass herself gravely.
Dorcas didn’t sing or play that night, but she did dance. There was not really something of a dance floor, but James and Marlene did always push most tables to the side. People could still sit and watch, but there was space if they wanted to stand or, in Dorcas’ case, dance.
It wasn’t that usual. Yes, they pushed the tables back, and yes, the nights were popular, but people usually sang along, chatted individually, and they had one stray dancer showing up occasionally.
But not Dorcas; Dorcas danced, but she didn’t do it alone; she got the entire crowd moving, dancing, singing. Marlene had never seen so many people so happy in her shop before, and she was more than entranced as she leaned an elbow on the counter to watch Dorcas sparkle, how she unwinded her shawl from her shoulders and wound them around a fifteen-year-old regular who liked to sing on his guitar every once in a while. She watched how she spun the boy with it and how he practically stumbled to keep up with her.
Dorcas was out there all night, giving every single participant the same treatment and excitement. She yelled and clapped when the performers finished, sang along when she knew the song and did not sit quietly for one single moment.
It was tradition for James to end the night; he was the one who made these evenings start, after all. Sometimes, he would perform alone, just him and a guitar; sometimes, he would sing too. Sometimes, there was a friend, Sirius had played with James more times than Marlene could count. Sometimes, he played with a regular, or anyone, just anyone who was willing to perform with him that particular night.
But he always played.
This time was no different. James was playing, but for the first time since she started the open mic nights, Marlene stepped up with him.
They had already discussed it behind the counter, so James wasn’t surprised when Marlene joined him. The crowd had no idea, though, and Marlene wouldn’t even be able to explain the feeling of stepping forward and the entire crowd yelling at you, for you.
Marlene smiled as she stepped up to the microphone. “Hello everyone, I’m Marlene Mckinnon. This is James Potter,” she said, pointing to James behind her.
She had to wait for the yelling to quiet down again before she continued.
“And this is Wonderwall.”
The following week flew by without any more texts, but a lot of coffees. It seemed Dorcas found some more time in her schedule for her (assumedly) favourite coffee shop and was spotted there two times a day, almost every day. The usual at eight and a stop during lunch hours, right at one o’clock. On Wednesday, she was there again, spending the entire evening lighting up every face she could. Marlene didn’t give a show this time, but the other woman was just as excited for James’ solo performance.
Marlene didn’t know what scared her so much about texting Dorcas, but somehow, every time she tried, she deleted the message before clicking send. Every idea sounded lame, and every opener felt cheesy.
And besides that, what if Dorcas wasn’t interested? What if she had only texted before because Marlene was the only one she knew who might know about a coffee place? Maybe she only frequented her coffee shop because it was close to work, en route. Maybe she felt forced to text Marlene after she left her number on the cup. Maybe all the notes were making her uncomfortable, but she was too sweet to say anything about it.
Right around that thought was when Marlene buried her phone far, far away and didn’t look at it for a couple of hours, when the thoughts had slowed down a bit.
The biggest worry that Marlene had was that she had never felt like this before; she had never worried this much. She just did; consequences be damned.
She didn’t know what this meant. Was it a sign, and if so, a good or bad one?
So she didn’t text. For a whole damn week, she looked at their chat; their couple of texts and made Dorcas multiple coffees a day, left notes on her cup, but she couldn’t text.
James had to practically wipe her drool off the counter every time Dorcas came in. She had her fucking number, and somehow, she couldn’t.
Sirius practically hit her over the head when she was whining about Dorcas’ beauty after a pint on Saturday.
“Just text her.”
“I don’t know what to say.” she moaned back.
“How about ‘hello’?”
“That’s lame.”
“Since when is greeting someone lame.”
“Since she is a goddess, and I am wearing a shirt that says cheese slut,” she paused, looking down “with a stain.”
He didn’t have anything to say about that, so he didn't. But the next time she started about Dorcas, he did hit her on the head, knocking over their beers in the process and pissing off the working bartender.
They tipped the guy extensively and awkwardly left, but the whole encounter did lead to a quick bathroom stop, a peek at a bulletin board on the way there, and a spotted flyer.
Drive through cinema
Thursday, the 27th of June
22:00
behind the Tesco on main street
10 euros, summer deal
The text was sent before Marlene had even reached the bathroom; she didn’t look at the time or think about the fact that she should probably not be texting Dorcas in the middle of the night while drunk.
But the following day, she was glad she did because Dorcas had texted back with enough excitement to plant a smile on Marlene’s face from Sunday all the way to Monday.
And if it had been possible, she would’ve smiled even wider when Dorcas came in that morning.
Dorcas broke the routine that day. She didn’t immediately move to her usual place by the window when she had paid. She waited until Marlene had handed her cup to James, who winked at her very inconspicuously.
“I do not have a car”, Dorcas blurted out when Marlene faced her again. It took Marlene a moment to understand precisely what Dorcas was saying, but when she did, she let out a little giggle.
“Neither do I, actually”, Marlene joked, but it was ruined immediately by the way Dorcas face fell; Marlene rushed to get her following words out. “But we’re taking James’ car.”
“Oh”, Dorcas said, smiling again at the same time as James whirled around, saying, “You are?”
This time, it was Dorcas' moment to laugh.
“I was going to tell you,” Marlene said, turning around to face James.
“Oh, you were?”
“Yes.” Marlene said with a pout, she turned back on Dorcas, “So we have a car. I can pick you up, or we could meet somewhere close, whatever you want.”
“A girl should never say no to a pick-up.”
“That she shouldn’t”, Marlene said with a smile.
When Dorcas returned that afternoon, Marlene wrote: ‘I do have a motorcycle’ on her cup.
Dorcas was standing outside when Marlene rounded the corner of her street. She had texted Marlene her address before and asked what she should wear. Marlene had said ‘casual’ and added ‘whatever you feel the most comfortable in’ later; she knew how obscure casual could be. Apparently, casual and comfy meant a maxi skirt and a flowy sweater in Dorcas’ eyes, not that Marlene was complaining.
“You look great”, Marlene said as a greeting when Dorcas entered the car.
“You as well,” Dorcas greeted back. Marlene wasn’t so sure about that, but she took the compliment anyway.
It was a short drive to the cinema, if that was even what you could call the field filled with a bunch of lone cars and a big ass screen. Marlene paid the lady in front of the field in cash. She could see Dorcas start her protests and scramble for her purse in the corner of her eye, but the worker had already grabbed the money and let them pass before Dorcas could try.
Marlene found them a spot a bit to the right of the screen; the lack of cars made getting close enough to get a good view a piece of cake. Marlene had taken a bunch of supplies for them (courtesy of the genius that is Lily Evans), and it paid off when Dorcas's face lit up when she saw the blankets and basket of snacks Marlene retrieved from the boot.
Marlene climbed untop of James’ car before Dorcas could say anything, and the other woman looked hesitantly at the hood of the vehicle.
“He won’t mind?” Dorcas asked.
“He suggested it,” Marlene answered. That was enough encouragement for Dorcas, who quickly scrambled on top, not even using the hand Marlene held out for her.
Marlene had pulled a thick old comforter over the entire roof of the car, making their seat a bit softer. When Dorcas had settled beside her, she pulled the extra fleece blanket she had brought over their knees. She had put the basket of food and drinks behind them and turned to grab something.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought beer and wine,” she said, pulling both out, a bottle in each hand, one being significantly bigger.
“I’m good with beer,” Dorcas answered, and Marlene returned the wine bottle to the basket. She also grabbed a bag of popcorn and M&Ms, opened them, and put them between them.
They sat silently for a second, taking their first sips and watching the still blank screen.
“What movie are they even screening?” Dorcas asked.
The question stumped Marlene, she wrecked her brain, trying to remember what the poster looked like, if it mentioned the movie, or any other clues that might give them an idea, but she came up empty. “I actually don’t know,” Marlene admitted with hot cheeks.
“How could you not know?”
“I don’t know. I guess I missed it on the poster,” Marlene said, raising her hands.
Dorcas laughed at her theatrics, “I guess we will find out”, she said exactly when the screen turned on.
Marlene silently prayed for something moderately okay, maybe a classic or a funny horror. She quickly gave up this hope when the Dream Works logo came on. She expected the worst from that moment, and still, she wasn’t ready for the next words she was about to hear.
“According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.”
Marlene and Dorcas immediately burst into laughter the second they realised just what movie they were about to watch. But this did not deter them; they watched it in full, slowly emptying every snack Marlene had brought with them.
Marlene was about to offer Dorcas another beer when the woman in question shifted down and sideways, leaning her body against Marlene’s and her head on Marlene’s shoulder. Marlene froze her movements immediately.
Dorcas must have noticed this because she almost immediately lifted her head again to look up at Marlene. Marlene met her eyes.
“Is this okay?” Dorcas asked
“It’s okay”, Marlene said, sighing and relaxing her body. Dorcas giggled at the endeavour but quickly settled back in, wiggling her head in the crook between Marlene’s neck and shoulder. Marlene’s hand moved of its own volition to Dorcas' hair, stopping after one touch until Dorcas nodded and thenrepetitively stroking and playing with Dorcas’ braids.
The movie ended soon after that, but it took them at least ten minutes to untangle themselves from each other and step out of the car.
Marlene drove Dorcas back to her apartment and only really stepped out of the car to say a proper goodbye to her, but Dorcas had another idea.
“Would you like to come in?” Dorcas asked.
“I– I”, Marlene stuttered, stopping on her way to Dorcas, “Yes” she finally landed on. “I’d love to.”
Marlene entered the apartment with eyes wide open, trying to take in every detail. The apartment was filled with colour, from a dark green accent wall to a purple couch with orange and red pillows. There was artwork on every wall, some with frames, some without. Most significantly, there was fabric everywhere: rolls of fabric in the corner, scraps hanging over the couch and chairs, and some even on the ground. There were two mannequins in the main room, one empty one in the corner, with the fabric rolls and one just in front of the couch like Dorcas had just been working on it before she left.
“Coffee?” Dorcas yelled from where she had disappeared in the kitchen, “No, wait, tea!” She quickly yelled, sticking her head around the corner, “I hadn’t forgotten.”
“Tea would be lovely,” Marlene yelled back.
Marlene hadn’t meant to snoop; she was just looking around the room and at all the furniture. She was merely curious about what Dorcas would keep in the little chest she had on one wall, and then Marlene just started looking, learning by seeing. It was genuinely so interesting to see what some people kept in drawers that Marlene wouldn’t have ever thought about.
She found the junk drawer or three, to be more exact, but two seemed to be more sowing-related than regular junk. She had found blankets in the chest, mostly looking to be hand-made with different patches of cloth. One of the cabinets contained an entire set of china, which looked unused.
Dorcas caught her with her nose in one of the books she had found on a lone shelf hanging off the wall. Marlene snapped the book closed with a snap.
“I didn’t mean to snoop, I was just–” She stammered out
“It’s fine, you can look”, Dorcas said, waving her off.
That was all the encouragement she needed to move to the only door in the room. She already had her hand on the doorknob when Dorcas started talking again.
“Just not–”
But it was already too late. Marlene pulled open the door with so much excitement that it flew open.She expected to find a bedroom, toilet, or bathroom behind it. She did not expect the coffee cup avalanche to flow and fall out from what she now realised was a closet. Marlene stumbled from the force of her opening the door and the unexpected attack that came with it. She found herself on the floor with empty coffee cups strewn all around her.
“–that one”, Dorcas continued her sentence, looking down at the mess Marlene had made.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I will clean it all up.” Marlene rushed out, already starting. “I will fix—wait, are these my cups?” Marlene added the question after having gotten a good look at what she was holding.
That’s when she looked over at Dorcas and saw the red blush that had taken over the woman’s entire face. Marlene was still sitting on the ground and looked around, picking up different coffee cups and turning them to read the notes.
Some she remembered writing, most she didn’t, but they were all there—she was sureof that, she knew from the sheer number strewn around the floor and the hundreds still standing in the closet.
“You kept them?” Marlene asked, glancing around the room before looking at Dorcas. “All of them?” She added.
Dorcas was just standing there, frozen to the spot, awkwardly scratching her arm.
“Maybe?” She said, giving Marlene an awkward smile.
Marlene stood up slowly, looking at Dorcas with her sweater that had fallen from her shoulder, showing the red bralette she was wearing under it by just the straps and some lace. She took a big step forward, not really knowing why, just that she had to.
“Why?”
“I mean–”
But Marlene cut her off, “Why would you keep them? They were cheesy and lame and maybe even invasive and creepy, and I’m sure you didnt ask for that, but I just couldn't stop; every time you came in, I just had to tell you something; I had to write something on the cup. But I will stop if it makes you uncomfortable. I– I don’t know why you kept all of them, but I can get rid of them; if they I don’t know, I can throw them–”
“Don’t you dare”, Dorcas said, cutting Marlene off this time.
“What?”
“You’re an idiot,” Dorcas answered, which was not an answer at all, but Marlene didn’t have time to question it because the next second, there was a hand gripping her shirt and pulling her forward, and then Dorcas’ lips met hers.
Marlene stumbled from the pull and had to steady herself on Dorcas, their teeth knocking together as she found her footing. It seemed Dorcas didn’t mind; she started kissing more earnestly after that.
Dorcas let go of Marlene’s shirt and put her hand on the back of Marlene’s neck, her hand tangling in Marlene’s hair. Marlene opened her mouth with a gasp when Dorcas gave a rough tug, and she could feel Dorcas smiling against her lips before she deepened the kiss.
A minute later, they pulled back for air, breathing together, forehead against forehead. It only took a second for Dorcas to catch her breath, and she pulled her head back a little, only to plant a kiss on both of Marlene's cheekbones.
“You are just so pretty,” Dorcas mumbled against her skin, pressing kisses to her forehead, on her chin, her neck, and behind her ears.
“Me… you? I, the cups. You are–” Marlene tried to speak, but words had failed her.
“Shhh, don’t try to speak,” Dorcas whispered against her lips.
And then she kissed her again.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out in a minute,” Marlene answered her, steering her behind the counter of the shop and through the door to the back room. Dorcas had initially protested against the blindfold, but Marlene had won in the end, and Dorcas had reluctantly put it on. Marlene steered her through another hallway and stopped for a second.
“Okay, so we have reached some stairs.”
“What?” Dorcas exclaimed, taking a step back, almost stumbling over her feet and needing to hold on to Marlene’s arm to steady herself.
“You’ll be fine,” Marlene reassured.
“No, no, no, I will not be climbing stairs blindfolded.”
“I’ll help you.”
“No.”
“Please, you will ruin the surprise otherwise, just. It’s not that many.” Marlene pleaded.
“No.”
“Pleasssseeeee?”
“Fine, But–”
“Yes”, Marlene interrupted.
“But”, Dorcas repeated, “You will tell me every step, when and where and how to step and you will not fucking let go of me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Marlene agreed, leading the other woman to the first step.
Dorcas actually did pretty well, and they reached the top of the steps soon enough. Marlene let go of Dorcas to open the door, to which the woman had some protests but Marlene was back soon enough.
She led Dorcas outside and onto the roof.
“Okay, give me one second. Stay put for me, baby,” Marlene said and left before Dorcas could say anything else. But she stayed put, and Marlene quickly lit all the candles she had put on the roof, plugged in the fairy lights she had hung earlier that day, and checked one final time if everything was in place.
“Okay, are you ready?” Marlene said when she made her way back to Dorcas.
“Yes,” Dorcas said, swivelling her head to where Marlene was standing now.
“You can take it off now,” Marlene said. She was nervous if the rats in her stomach where anything to go by. They hadn’t done anything this big for each other yet, and Marlene wasn’t sure what Dorcas would think of it.
But her worries were for nothing. Dorcas took off her blindfold and blinked against the light for only a second. Still, after that, her eyes remained wide open, taking in the picnic blanket Marlene had put on the roof, the table set for two with a bottle of champagne and two glasses—the two cupcakes with two plates and a canister of whipped cream. The candles on the table, surrounding the blanket, on the edge of the roof, and wherever Marlene thought was a nice place. The fairy lights were around the table, on the floor, and everywhere where a candle wasn’t already set.
Dorcas had tears in her eyes when she finally faced Marlene, who had been patiently waiting for her in the middle of the roof.
“Do you like it?” She asked tentatively.
“Do I like it?” Dorcas repeated, rushing forward and capturing Marlene’s lips with hers. Marlene stood on her tiptoes to ensure the other woman reached the right place.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Dorcas answered between pecks, “You are such an idiot, I fucking love it.”
“Yeah, I thought we could celebrate with cupcakes and champagne and then watch the sunset on the blanket.”
“Hmmm”, Dorcas hummed against Marlene’s lip, “That sounds perfect.”
Marlene led her to the table. Dorcas was still trying to catch Marlene’s lip whenever she could, but when Marlene pulled out her chair and put her on it, Dorcas finally let go. Marlene moved to the other side of the table, sitting herself down.
Dorcas was looking at the cupcake, and the big ‘1’ Marlene had very messily drawn upon it.
“Okay, I’m a little lost here. What are we celebrating?” Dorcas asked. Marlene had just finished pouring themboth a glass of champagne and hummed.
“You mean you don’t remember?” Marlene taunted, but she didn’t let the phrase hang long enough for it to unsettle Dorcas, “It’s been one year since you first came into my coffee shop.”
“One year today?” Dorcas asked incredulously.
“One year ago today.”
One coffee at 8, one pound in a jar, one note on a cup, I love you.