Second Cup Love

It’s a rare and fleeting moment but I relish it all the more. Other times it’s like the Chai latte you serve me, something to be savoured slowly in small luxurious sips. Today is one of those times. I’m taking a break from my shopping, loaded down with bags; Chapter, Bombay, H&M. I’m a girl with taste. I’m waiting in line with these bags hanging from my forearm as I try to make 2.50 for that large Chai latte. I look up line and I’m behind an elderly woman who’s curly white hair I notice is actually a wig and a tall irritable looking man no older than 25 in a banal suit tapping his fingers on the counter anxiously as he waits for you to hurry up with that espresso. You hand it to him and return his change with a smile despite how rude he was. You have a lovely smile you know. As I inch closer to you and the old lady asks for tea and a biscotti cookie I notice you cut your hair since the last time I saw you. It’s still that natural black, short but with a more pronounced fringe that grazes you brow line. It suits you and brings out you’re eyes. They’re a deep dark brown just like mine and I think if we were to children they would most definitely have the same eyes as well.

“Can I help you?” you ask me as the old woman shuffles away.

“Um…” I say pouting my lips a little as I glance over the options listed above your head in false moment of indecision. “A large Chai latte, please.” And I hand you the money.

You smile again but I recognize it as that customer service smile you used on the man in the suit that I used to have for when I worked cash at the grocery store. So I don’t think much of it other than its handsomeness.

You leave me for a moment to go to the right where at lease ten heated beverage dispensers are waiting to be dispersed.

As you fill the cup you look back to me, “Two sugars, right?”

My heart leaps. “Yes,” I croak fumbling with my words. You remembered, I’m touched. Really I am. Instead of letting me go to the sugar/honey/milk/stir stick station step up to the side you tear open two packets of Sweet n’ Low yourself, pour them in and give it a quick stir. I smile gratefully and slightly blush with the special treatment. You hand me the latte over the counter and in the transaction some the drink sloshes over the edge.

“Oh!” I go into a sudden panic, my eyes look around desperately for Kleenex.

“Ops,” you say with a quick, honest laugh. “Watch it’s hot.”

“Sorry!” I quickly apologize as you help me get set down the hot cup.

That’s another thing that’s so wonderful about you, help me with my cup, warning that’s it’s hot and I might burning my fingertips. You’re proving chivalry isn’t as dead as we thought.

“Thanks,” I say smiling sheepishly as you coolly mop up the mess with the tea towel you retrieved from under the counter.

“No problem,” you say running a hand through your lovely hair out of habit after all evidence of the mess has been erased. “Have a nice day.”

I walk away and take a seat near the wide window where I stare out wistfully for a moment then back to you. You already know how I take my lattes and have saved me from scorching beverages. We’ve been through so much together but all you can say at our parting from which an indefinite amount of time might separate us is ‘Have a nice day’. Somehow I think a ‘Have a nice day’ does not seem to suffice. But I can’t stay angry; you win me over so easily with one smile. So to you my Second Cup love I hope you have a spectacular day, best wishes of love and happiness (with me) and may you not let rude business suits or bewigged old women ruin your days behind those glorious caffeinated counters.