4. The Cafe

Richie needs a break.

Senior Year, September

It was Friday, the last weekend before October. I couldn’t believe we were a month into the school year already. It was my free period, so I began my walk home as usual. Only this time I didn’t go straight home, I just walked. I didn’t have any destination in mind, nowhere specific to be, I just walked. Walked further than I could remember walking before, walked for an hour or two. Walked until my legs got tired, then walked a little more. Without a car, going as slowly as my legs could carry me, the town I grew up in looked like a whole new world.

Eventually, I recognized a building. It was a cafe/record store type thing, a place Travis had taken Theo and I once a few months back. I haven’t been to it since, or thought about its existence. I remember it being a pretty nice place though, a really chill environment to hang out. Between my sudden longing for human interaction and the need for a break after walking all this distance, I shrugged. Why not. I walked toward the building, already hearing muffled music through the walls as I approached its doorstep.

I pushed open the glass double doors and was immediately greeted by the pungent smells of cinnamon, chocolate and coffee ingredients, accompanied by the alternative rock emitting from the speakers, just over the chatter of people around me. The place looked remodeled, even nicer than how I remembered it. One half of the place was a straight up music store, full of shelves stocked with vinyl records, CDs, and everything in between. The other half was the designated chill area, with a bunch of couches and chairs set up everywhere and where the actual cafe was stationed.

I quickly realized I didn’t really have a plan for what I would do once in the building. I stood there, dumbfoundedly, surrounded by a bunch of hipsterish people going about their lives, probably not even noticing I was there. Until…

“Superboy?”

I turned to see Carrie Thompson there, vinyl disk in one arm, exotic caffeinated drink in the other, peering at me through those glasses with her familiar ponytail draped over her shoulder.

“Carrie,” I blurted out. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping for music, believe it or not.”

She had a really laid back, relaxed way of speaking, as if everything she said was of minimal thought or interest. I stood there with a dumb look on my face, she gave her usual passive grin. She then seemed to notice my backpack.

“Did you walk here straight from school?” she said, somewhat in shock.

“Well, I...” I stammered. “Kinda, yeah.”

She grinned more and shook her head. “You’re so weird.”

She turned around and began to walk toward the cafe area. She turned her head back to me.

“You just gonna stand there? Come on.”

I shrugged and followed her over toward a round little table with two seats around it. She took a swig from her cup as we sat down. She set her record on the table and I glanced at it. It was some old looking band I’d never heard of before.

“Who are the Kinks?” I asked.

“A sadly forgotten monument of sixties and seventies,” she answered, looking down at the cover fondly. “Those were great times for music.”

Now, for some reason, expectations of this girl I didn’t even realize I had were suddenly starting to unravel.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before,” I went on. “Are you a senior?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “But I’m not from around here. I moved, so I just transferred here the end of last year. So, basically, I’m still under the radar to most people.”

“I somehow get the feeling you don’t mind it that way.”

“Eh, it has its perks. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few more friends this year, though, being that it’s my last and all.”

“What about all the girls you were with at the party?”

“Them?” Carrie scoffed. “Jenny’s okay, but her friends are all gossipy valley girls. I don’t even know how they dragged me to that party.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “You don’t seem like a party person.”

“Neither do you.” she said with a sassy smirk. “You do seem like one of the least assholish people here, though. Why do you surround yourself with the guys you do?”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Not all of them are too bad,” I said after a pause. “Theo and Travis are great guys when you get to know them. Sorry about Trav hitting on you though, he kinda does that to every girl.”

“I’ve noticed. He comes on way too strong though, his act is pretty easy to see through. Don’t worry about me, I wouldn’t go for a guy like Travis in a million years.”

I wondered for a second what kind of guys she actually would go for, but I figured it might come off rude to ask.

Carrie was chill about a lot of things. In fact, between her always unexcited eyes and vaguely enthusiastic half-smiles, ‘chill’ was probably the only way to describe her demeanor.

“So,” I began, curiously. “Since you just got here and all, where did you move from?”

“Arizona,” she answered. “I’ve lived there my whole life.”

“Then why come so far away?”

“It wasn’t my decision entirely. It was up to my parents. They split up last year, and over the summer I had the choice of staying there with my dad or moving with my mom somewhere new. I made the choice and, well, this is where we ended up.”

“You only had one more year of school, why not just finish up there?”

“Because I only had one more year left. One last chance to go out and see somewhere different before I committed to a school.”

“Did you not like Arizona?”

“I did and I didn’t.”

“That’s a clear answer.”

“It was the only home I’d ever known. I loved the comfortability of it, but I didn’t want to feel like I needed it. Like there was nothing more to me than one place… And as I started getting older I resented more and more things about it. There was this big nothingness to it, a lack of cultural stuff to do and an abundance of narrow minded people. I was sick of being in the same place, seeing the same things, living the same day over and over again… And I saw the same people, who weren’t bothered by any of this. I knew I couldn’t be one of them.”

“So you left because you didn’t fit in? Did you expect to fit in more here?”

She leaned back against her seat and stared off into space.

“Honestly, Superboy, I don’t think I’ll ever find a place I fit in. But as far as places go, here isn’t too bad.”

“Just give it some time.” I said. She then did one of her half-smiles and let out a vaguely amused chuckle.

“We should do this more often.” she said, taking a swig of her drink.

I raised a brow. “You mean, like, every week?”

“I have nothing to do on Fridays, unless that doesn’t work for your busy schedule

“Oh, no, that’s fine by me.”

“Rad. But if we make this a regular thing, you have to try a different flavor of coffee with me every week.”

I looked down at her cup curiously.

“There’s different flavors of coffee?”

Wednesday

“Superheroes?” Theo suggested.

“Nah,” I answered. “Played out.”

“Zombies?”

“Screw that.”

“Cowboys? Ninjas?”

“Come on, you’re not even trying now.”

Travis stood up and leaned against Theo’s dresser.

“I’m telling you guys,” he began. “It has to be vampires?”

“Vampires?” Theo repeated, leaning his head back in apparent confusion.

“Yeah,” Trav answered. “Mysterious, sexy, girls love them.”

I sucked my teeth. “When did Halloween costumes become about picking up chicks instead of having fun?”

Travis rolled his eyes. Theo raised his hand forward.

“I’mma stop you there, Rich. Picking up chicks is pretty fun. And I mean, it is a party, that’s kinda what you do.”

I feel like we just went to a party… Was it that long ago already?

“Fine, forget y’all,” Travis said, walking over to Theo’s mirror and looking himself over.

“I’ll go with Cecilia and we’ll be sexy vampires together.”

Hearing Travis call CJ ‘Cecilia’ almost made me vomit in my mouth.

“Come on, Trav,” CJ said, sitting upright in his bed. “We been coordinating our costumes every year since we were trick-or-treating. This is the last time the three amigos will spend Halloween here, we gotta do it together. And we gotta go out with class.”

“Fine, then,” Travis scoffed. “Think of some better suggestions.”

Theo and I called out at the same time.

“Gangsters.”

“Pirates.”

Theo and I met eyes and felt our souls connect as we unearthed the beautiful revelation we just had. He pulled out his laptop and I rushed over to help him as we hit the internet to start shopping online for eyepatches and hold chains, hook-hands and plastic lean cups; all components to our inevitable Gangsta Pirate costumes.

Friday

“What in the world is this?” I asked, staring down at my cup.

“Just drink it.” Carrie moaned impatiently.

“It smells like cinnamon and maple syrup and deer blood.”

“It’s good, I swear.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to poison me…”

“Richie.”

“Ugh, fine.”

I swung back the cup and took a sip. I wasn’t able to place what exactly the flavor was, aside from the fact it sure as heck didn’t come from coffee beans, but it wasn’t half bad.

“See?” Carrie said, with another almost grin. “You can trust my suggestions after all.”

“Eh, maybe I just got lucky this time.”

She let out a tiny, barely audible chuckle. At that point I hadn’t actually ever heard Carrie laugh before, that was the closest thing she’d done. I decided right then and there on new short term goal: Make Carrie laugh.

I scratched an itch in my hair through my hat. She noticed, and her eyes seemed to briefly lock on my snapback.

“Why do you wear your hats like that?” she asked, resting her head on her hand and stirring her coffee with her other.

“Like what?” I replied. “On my head?”

“All backwards and to the side.” she clarified.

“Why not? I like wearing them this way.”

“Well, you’re smart. Surely you realize how people see you when they see stuff like that.”

“I know, but I also know judging people by superficial things like the way they wear their hats is dumb. People love to put each other in these boxes, place all these expectations. Now, everyone’s so afraid of what other people think that nobody’s comfortable being themselves. I say screw that, I’ll never change anything about myself for anyone else’s approval. And if someone doesn’t like the way I present myself, that’s their problem.”

Carrie pushed up her glasses and looked at me with a curious grin.

“You know what I think?”

I raised a brow. “What?”

“I think you’re smart.”

“You already said that.”

“Well, the thing is I think you’re smarter than anyone knows. Smarter than you let people know.”

“What makes you think that? My hat?”

“No, it’s your attitude. I’m sure of it. The only question now is why you keep so much of you a secret from the rest of the world.”

She tilted her head to the side and looked at me curiously, her familiar half-smile seeming to have more emotion and intrigue than usual.

“What are you afraid of, Superboy?”

Wednesday

Just coming off another rousing session of World History class, I stood at my locker and began swapping out my books. That’s when I felt the presence of a mouth-breathing behemoth stomping behind me. Showcasing my glorious luck, it was none other than Grant Peters of the basketball team once again.

“Richie!” he called angrily.

I sighed. “What?”

“You and CJ have been texting, huh?”

Is that what this is about?

“You realize y’all are broken up, right?” I said absently, before being hit with a realization.

“Hold up! Were you going through her phone?”

His expression grew even angrier and he stepped closer.

“You need to mind your business,” he began menacingly. “Don’t get involved with things that don’t concern you. Like CJ.”

I stepped forward to him now.

“First of all,” I said. “You can chill with the tough act, your loudness doesn’t scare me. Second off, it’s a free country, you don’t own anyone and thus CJ’s allowed to interact with whomever she so chooses. Which brings me to the last point, while you were violating her privacy you may have noticed she’s the one who’s been texting me.”

“I don’t care who did what, I’m just saying it ends now.”

“Pfft… Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna handle it.”

He grabbed me by the chest-area of my shirt and pulled it tightly to threaten me. Come on man, I just ironed this. He continued.

“You thought I forgot what you did to me at that party?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, you hit your head on the floor pretty hard.”

“Anyone can sucker punch a guy, Richie. Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

“Spell ‘intimidated’. Go.”

“What?”

“Do it. Because I’m willing to bet money you can’t.”

He loosened his grip on my shirt and instead forcefully pushed me back into my locker.

“Stay away from CJ.” He demanded, before walking off. I straightened my shirt and muttered under my breath,

“I’m not even the one you have to worry about.”

Friday

Carrie and I sat at the table, silently for once as we both had a set of headphones draped over our ears. First she had me listen to Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons, a group I had only ever witnessed grandmothers listening to until then. Now, I had no idea what was playing but it was really psychedelic sounding, and some guy was singing about strawberry fields or something. I looked over to Carrie, who was listening to my selection of Big Pun. Her eyes were shut tight in concentration, and was clutching the headphones tightly as if she was listening to decipher some morse code message or something. In a minute or two we both took our headphones off.

“So?” I asked.

Her look of confusion persisted. “That was… so many words… Is there a slowed down version of that?”

“Give it time,” I laughed. “Your ears will adjust.”

“What’d you think of The Beatles?” she asked.

“Is that who that was?”

I looked down at my headphones, feeling, feeling musically ignorant.

“We’ll try again next week.” she said, taking a sip of her cup, this week’s mystery flavor. She immediately set the cup back down and began making weird shapes with her mouth.

“Whoever decided to put pumpkins in coffee needs to reconsider the direction of their life.”

I looked down at my cup and started to zone out.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, apparently noticing immediately.

I continued staring into the concoction of milk, coffee, artificial flavorings and lord knows what else.

“I don’t know,” I replied absently. “Kinda, I guess.”

“Well, share.” she said, setting her cup down and giving me her full attention. I stared off, almost regretting mentioning anything.

“Ever just think time is passing by and we’re missing it? I mean, do you ever think every day starts to feel the same, and they all just kinda blend into each other?”

Carrie turned her head slightly to the side and gave a smile that looked almost endeared. She had a way of making me feel dumb with her facial expressions, I can’t explain it.

“We’re kids, Richie,” she answered. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

She ran her index fingers across her mouth and made the shape of a smile, her way of telling me to stop frowning.

“I guess you’re right.” I sighed.

“When am I not?” she answered, taking off her glasses and wiping them off with her shirt. She looked like such a different person without her glasses on her face. Her eyes were less big and sparkly, but still looked as unexcited as usual. A record scratch vibrated from the inside of my jacket pocket. I sighed as I pulled out my phone, anticipating who it was before I read the text message.

“Your uncle again?” Carrie asked, sipping her mystery flavored coffee of the week.

“Nah. It’s Travis.”

“Oy vey.”

“He says: ‘Yo, Rich, I’m about to ask CJ to homecoming, any advice?’”

“He’s asking you of all people?”

“Yeah,” I sighed again, slipping my phone back into my pocket and ignoring the text. “That’s Trav. I’m the one who agreed to this, so I guess I just have to take that L.”

“Take the L?”

It never would’ve occurred to me that Carrie wouldn’t have heard that phrase before; I guess I’d gotten so comfortable talking to her I’d forgotten we came from completely different circles.

“L, meaning loss,” I explained, trying my best to sound like a dictionary. “Taking it, in this case by accepting the sucky situation I brought upon myself.”

“Come on,” Carrie began. “If you’re not cool with him talking to that CJ girl you should say so.”

“I don’t know,” I replied sheepishly. “I kinda told him already with hints.”

“Well, you should try telling him with words.”

I looked down at my cup, unable to identify the sweet smell coming from it. I briefly wondered if Carrie was trying to poison me before taking the first sip.

“So…” I began, prepared to tread lightly as I met eyes with her again. “Have you thought about homecoming at all?”

“Nah,” she replied without a second of thought. “Not my thing.”

“What’s that mean?”

“The whole wearing a dress thing, dancing to bad music, waiting for a mouth-breathing boy to ask me; save that for the girly girls. I’ll pass.”

“What’s wrong with being a girly girl?”

“Girly girls are victims of a society that preys on their low self esteem and longing for vanity. One that uses things like homecoming to brainwash them into blindly worshipping all that is superficial. That’s not me at all, and besides, I hate wearing dresses.”

“You must be a riot at parties.” I said as my eyes wandered back down to my drink.

“At least I’ve never knocked anybody out at one.”

She asked a little more about CJ, each question I’d shyly dance around. I asked her usual questions, how things were going at home with her mom and how her classes were coming along. She gave me the usual answer, essentially mediocre at best for both categories.

“Having a majority of honors’ classes gets tiring,” she explained. “The work isn’t actually more ‘advanced’, it’s just more tedious.”

“Word,” I replied. “Not that I’m in any advanced classes or anything, but the dumb kid classes are tedious too.”

“Hey,” Carrie cut in defensively. “You’re not a dumb kid. Just because you don’t excel in an arbitrary education system doesn’t make you any less smart, Richie.”

“Colleges may disagree with you,” I answered with a sigh. “And considering my applications are going out soon, their opinions are pretty important.”

“Well, which one do you wanna go to?”

“Any with low enough standards.”

“Stop that. What do you want to do with your life?”

I fell back into my seat and stared off out of the window.

“Like I know,” I replied, my mind trailing off. “Any job that keeps me from being homeless’ll do. I just don’t really have any specific skills or interests.”

“You have to have some,” she insisted. “Everyone does.”

“That’s what separates me from everyone. Just look at my friends. We’re all pretty sure Theo’s gonna play football the rest of his life, and Trav has the music thing going on. I don’t have anything. My future at this point is pretty much a guess.”

My gaze shifted downward as I prepared to be judged. People like Carrie, with goals and promising accomplishments, are always judging me. Even when they don’t openly say it, it’s easy to read in the way they look at me or the remarks they hide under their breath. I’d gotten so comfortable talking to Carrie I’d almost forgotten she was one of them.

“You’re not alone.” she said to my surprise.

“What do you mean,” I asked out of curiosity. “What are you going to college for?”

“No idea,” she replied with a shrug. “Been trying to figure it out since Sophomore year, but no answer yet. That makes the rest of my life a guess too, huh?”

I nearly dropped my jaw.

“Really,” I blurted out. “You don’t have any solid idea?”

She shook her head.

“Whoa.”

“Surprised?”

“I mean, kinda. This whole time you seemed like you had a plan you were working toward, you know? Like you had it all figured out.”

She laughed. Not a little chuckle, not a halfways smile. For the first time in knowing her, I saw Carrie Thompson actually laugh.

“I do a good job then don’t I,” she eventually said while catching her breath. “When you have a rough life, the more you go through, the more you’re able to keep your composure and look like you have it all together, even when you’re still scrambling around to pick up the pieces.”

I took a moment to process what she just said. I stared at her in puzzlement, almost seeing a different set of eyes beneath those glasses, and a new life in her smile.

“Don’t ever think I’m doing better than anyone else,” she said. “I’m human, just like you Superboy.”