Fall

As he waited on the bench, he tried to describe the different hues of the leaves that flew past him. Deep reds, sober oranges, dark yellows. He knew she liked it, and wanted to leave no empty silences that would make his coffee taste more bitter. He hated it, but nowadays he often forced the unsavory excuse for a hot drink down his throat. Why did he do something he loathed so frequently? The answer was simple, the denial complicated.

    His reason arrived on a silver bicycle as usual. Light brown eyes, dark brown hair, large brown coat with big brown buttons. Draped in brown, just like the coffee he gulped out of duty. Yet when he saw her he didn’t recall its bitterness or the acid taste that it left on his tongue, but its warmth- the one thing that made coffee bearable. Yes, she was warmth, brown like home and hot cocoa.

    She dared burn him with the sweetest of smiles. “Hey, how are you?”

    In bright flames, red like autumn, his mind replied. “I’m alright, you?”

    “I’m great, thanks,” she answered, caramel-eyed, flashing another grin.

    His cheeks were scarlet, “Uh, shall we go?”

     “Sure, let me lock my bike.”

    He stood there, jumping on his heels and looking at the back of her head while she locked the bicycle next to his. Her short, straight hair partially covered her little black backpack while it shone in the golden sunlight. He remembered the day when he had to untangle a hair tie from it; her nervous laughter rung in his ears again and he recalled the smoothness of the strands under his fingertips. He snapped out of his daydream and found her standing in front of him, mimicking his hypnotized rocking.

    Her laughter anchored him to the present. “Good, you’re back. Let’s go,” she said, wrapping her arm against his. Like that, and with his stomach in knots, they crossed the road and walked into the café.

    “The table beside the window is free!”

    “Yes, let’s sit there for a change.”

    His teasing was met with a gentle push and a pout. Adorable. No. Remember it’s not.

    By now he knew how much she liked to look out the big glass window. After all, he always watched intently as the outside world entranced her; cold fingers wrapped around the hot cup as she drank the sight in like nectar through slightly parted lips and squinting shiny eyes. That’s when he stayed quiet on purpose.

    “Hello, glad to have you back.” the waiter greeted them, already writing on his notepad.

    “Hey, nice to see you. The usual, please,” cinnamon girl answered.

    The waiter gave her a quick, unbelieving look. “I know.”

    She chuckled and replied with a thank you.

    Her eyes turned to blushing boy. “When the employees memorize your order is when you know it’s time to visit other places.”

    “Sure, as if you’d ever go to another café besides this one.”

    “Yeah, this is the only one that serves real coffee, comrade.”

    “Comrade?”

    “Anything wrong with that?”

    “Nothing, it’s just odd.”

    “Most things on Earth are odd, comrade. For example, you’ve been oddly quiet this afternoon.”

    “I was just thinking...”

    “Good job. Keep it up.”

    “Thinking about the trees. They’re actually generous, you know? They give us a lovely green to look at for two seasons, and after that you’d think they’d simply leave. Instead, they say goodbye in deep reds, sober oranges, dark yellows, and warm browns. Then you think how we’ve done nothing but destroy nature since we got here, and she still gives us these simple gifts. It’s sad that few people notice, though.”

    Entranced girl’s look was puzzled. She giggled. “God, you’ve been reading my stuff, haven’t you?”

    Burning boy’s hand went to the back of his neck. “Maybe,” he said through taut lips.

    “I’m sorry, then,” she laughed. “Hey, don’t blush. That was really nice. I’m just being my sour, sarcastic self. Might even steal it some day. Watch out.”

    “Did you really like it?”

    “Oh, don’t make me say it again.”

    He smiled, muscles relaxing. “Did you just compliment me?”

    “Shut up and get used to it. You’re pretty easy to compliment.”

    The waiter arrived and set two spoons, two cups of coffee and a big piece of chocolate cake in the middle of the table. As the boy sweetened his drink, he watched her sip her coffee.

    “Have I told you why I adore it black? People have a habit of filling their coffee with milk, sugar, cream, or whatever spices they choose to saturate it with, and the true taste is gone. You can’t savor the bean anymore. The whole essence of coffee is lost, and all that’s left is a sugary bomb. Drinking it black is refreshing, simple, to the point. However, my palate is not that sophisticated, so excuse me for sweetening it a little.”

    The girl added a bit of sugar to her drink, and after mixing it she put the spoon in her mouth to lick the remaining coffee. Then she went straight for the cake, closing her eyes as she tasted it.

    “This cake, I swear- oh, I love it,” she stated.

    “I’d enjoy it too if you me left some.”

    “Hey, I always leave a piece for you.”

    “Yeah, a tiny, meager portion. We’re supposed to share it. If you don’t like that, we’ll have to order two pieces.”

    “No, I can’t eat a whole piece! Consider my figure, please!”

    “What figure?” he retorted, although he considered it quite a lot.   

    “Stop talking and eat.”

    The terrifying silence settled between them, but she didn’t seem to notice as she slowly chewed and swallowed her treat. He began to tap his fingers on the table and scratch his head. Soon his knees were jumping.

    “I don’t like this,” he shattered the silence.

    The girl froze with the cup on her lips. “What?”

    “I don’t like awkward silences like that one. I get anxious.”

    “Oh,” she put the cup down. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll try to make them comfortable for you, then.”

    He chuckled. “I don’t think you can do that. I mean, I really like talking, as you’ve probably noticed, but of course sometimes I run out of things to say. It’d be nice if you could speak a bit more, too, say what’s on your mind. I don’t really care-” he stopped when he noticed she’d gotten lost again.

    Her head was on her hand and her eyes were glued to the window. One of her fingers softly scratched her hair. He listened to her constant, soft breaths as he stared at her parted lips. They curled into a small smile and then quickly relaxed just before she ran her tongue over the lower one. Then she put her other hand under her chin and started caressing her cute little nose. Eyelashes slowly brushed squishy cheeks. The sunlight hit her  irises and made them look like two drops of caramel. Minutes, or perhaps centuries, passed as he stared at her in that beautiful captivated state.

    “See, we’ve been silent for a long while and you’re fine.”

    The boy blinked. “What?”

    “Silence is wonderful when you learn how to appreciate it. I personally love it. The universe is too loud and active. Black holes swallow stars in one corner and galaxies are being born in the other. Oh, and even when that’s happening humans are accountable for seventy percent of galactic noise. It’s been scientifically proven.”

    “Two monologues in one afternoon. See, you can also speak.”

    “Sure I can, but I love listening to you. Your voice is the one sound that doesn’t annoy me.”

    The girl quietly stared at him as he took a sip of his coffee. Even though he tried to conceal it, she noticed the disgust in his complexion.

    “Cut it out.”

    “Cut what out?”

    “Pretending to like coffee.”

    “This is a coffee shop. I’m free to drink whatever I want.”

    “That’s true. I can’t stop you from torturing yourself, but at least let me ask the waiter for some milk. It’ll make it less strong.”

    She did as she promised, and he soon had a small kettle with milk in front of him. He poured it into his cup, watching the black abyss turn into a much less menacing cream-colored liquid. Indeed, the milk softened its taste and made it better. Almost passable.

    The girl looked at him as he finished his bigger-than-usual piece of cake and his coffee. He cleaned his mouth with a napkin.

    “You’re a nice guy,” she remarked.

    “Uh, thanks.”

    “But not just nice in a polite way. You’re nice to look at.”

    He raised an eyebrow, looking absolutely clueless, and unendurably cute.

    “Yeah, there it is,” she stated.

    “What?”

    “I knew you’d prove my point.”

    His confusion immediately increased with that statement, and she raised her hand and asked for the bill. The waiter brought it, and the girl firmly refused to let the boy pay. It was her turn now, after all. Then they left and walked towards the bench on the other side of the road.

    “Why did you ask for the bill so soon?” he inquired.

    “I felt suffocated.”

    “Oh, okay.”

    “I’ll be leaving, then. Nice to see you.”

    The boy’s heart sunk. He hated watching her go because he knew that as soon as she was out of sight another week or two of longing would follow. A time period consisting of watches that would tick away too slowly and texts that left too many thoughts out.

    “Are you okay? You look like a sad puppy,” she asked.

    “Oh, it’s nothing. I just remembered an assignment.”

    The next thing came as a surprise, for he was too busy mentally wallowing in his own pity to notice that the girl’s expression was also broken. She got on her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. She hugged his neck tightly, her chin on his shoulder. The boy, completely baffled, hugged her waist. There they lingered, eyes closed, noses taking every particle in. She smelled like green tea sweetened with honey. Yes, she did. That crucial detail was finally his.

    Without letting go, she whispered, “Please, let’s see each other soon, and in another place.”

    “Where?”

    “Wherever you’re not afraid to speak the truth.”

    “Uh, sure.”

    She laughed into his shoulder and they let go. She still had a smile on her face. “You’re fascinating. Tell me when you get it, please.”

    Then she turned around, unlocked her bike, and rode away.

    The boy couldn’t move as a million questions rushed through his mind. Where did she want them to go? Why couldn’t she just say it? What did he have to get? At least she’d just called him fascinating. Yes, she just did! Wait, did she really mean that? He could only stand there, frozen, trying to process the recent events. However, one thing was certain: for all eternity he’d safeguard the sensations of that afternoon.

    An embrace warming him inside while it trekked into his tummy.

    A mellow voice softening the bitterness on his tongue.

    The sugary aftertaste of a meeting in the fall.

*****

Hello, humans. I really didn’t want to post this.

    As you can see this isn’t my usual style. Most of the time my stories somehow turn out to be depressing after I write them. This time, I was determined to write something soft and comforting, but not this soft. Excuse me while I throw up. Oh God, a friend had to “force” me to do it (she actually just proofread it and liked it). I am blushing, oh Lord. Haha. I do hope you like it, anyway.

    A little disclaimer: I know I use a lot of food-related language. Please note that I in no way intend to objectify women. They’re just metaphors to represent warmth and sweetness. It doesn’t mean that the male is trying to swallow her or something. He does want to be very close to her (as if they were one and all that romantic bullpoop) but he doesn’t intend to own her completely. Plus, she loves coffee, so I’m comparing her to something she loves. Also, most of the food is dark-colored, but I don’t promote a fetish of any ethnicity. The main metaphor is “brown=warmth”, so I used sweet, brown foods.

Love,

Nan.