5.5. Cups of Coffee

Richie's starting to get the hang of things.

“Eight, nine… Ten… Hggh…. Eleven…” I counted aloud to myself as I struggled to bench press at least to twenty. “Twelve… Thirteen.” My arms felt like they could snap at any moment.

“Yo, Rich.” Theo called as he came walking up beside me.

“Forty-seven,” I continued. “Forty-eight.”

He walked over and lifted the barbell out of my hands like it was made of styrofoam. I collapsed on the leather seat thing, struggling for breath. I had no idea how Theo talked me into spending this week’s PE classes working out in Midtown High’s weight room, but every part of my body wanted to die, so I assumed I must’ve been doing something right.

“Feeling the burn?” he laughed.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve lost feeling in general.”

He lead the way back to the locker rooms, with a confident swagger that made his sweat stained PE clothes seem like a luxury tuxedo.

“By the way,” he began. “The team’s going out for pizza after practice if you wanna tag along.”

“Can’t today,” I replied. “I’m about to head over to chill with Carrie.”

“Again?”

“What of it?”

“You chill with her all the time. What do y’all even do?”

“Eh, just talk mostly. It’s always interesting though, she’s a genius.”

“A genius?”

“Word. Like, she sees the world and understands people in ways no one else does. If that makes sense.”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s better you kick it with her all the time now since you stopped bein’ all Drake-ish about CJ.”

“When are you taking them?” Theo asked as we walked through the double doors, out of the gymnasium and into the hallway. We joined the wave of other students getting to their eighth period classes, per usual.

“Not sure,” I said with a shrug. “Probably should’ve figured this out earlier. My Uncle even got me this book to prepare and I’ve barely cracked that thing open.”

“Procrastinating heavy, huh, Rich?”

“Maybe I’m just unconsciously putting it off out of fear. I mean, it’s surreal being here finally after all the build up. The SATs don’t even feel real, more like an urban legend they tell us as freshman to scare us into paying attention in class.”

“The next step in graduating. Still pretty crazy. We had our best years here, grew up into who we are now, and in a few months, we out.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “It’ll just be another part of our pasts.”

I glanced over at him, and for a second I remembered what he looked like before he had the long dreads and facial hair, when we were awkward freshmen.

“Hey, Theo,” I began with a weird uncertainty. “Do you think it’s true what people say about drifting apart? How after high school you move on with your life, make new friends then never see the old ones again?”

He thought about for a few seconds, then threw his head to the side and shrugged again.

“I mean, I’m not psychic,” he answered. “I can’t make any definitive statement on the future. But I can say I’m pretty sure people need each other to survive. When you get so close to somebody it feels like they’re family and y’all spend years getting to know each other, especially when you’re going through your first important stages of life together, that connection can’t just disappear just because you stop being around them every single day. I also think the world has a way of working itself out, not that I believe in karma or astrology or none of that, all I’m saying is even though you might not see a lot of people ever again, the ones you truly need in your life will always find ways back into it.”

We approached the door to the outdoor football field, where Theo’s teammates were already preparing for practice.

“Just don’t think too hard about it, Rich. Besides, me, you and Trav don’t have to worry about that. Everyone knows we’re down for life.”

We exchanged fist bumps and he departed into practice. Now, seemingly alone in the hallway, I turned around and without skipping a beat…

“Hey, Richie…” uttered the ever-flirty Ms. Wellings, materializing from thin air as she often did. Must not audibly sigh.

“Hi, CJ.”

I began walking down the hall to my next destination, and she walked beside me.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked. “I’ve barely seen you since the amusement park.”

“That’s kinda how what happens when we have no mutual classes.”

“I just thought since I spend more time with Travis now…-”

“You’d have opportunities to make me a jealous third wheel. Try again.”

Her eyes shifted as she tried to think of a quick rebuttal.

“Then you’re not jealous.”

“I’m very jealous. Not of him, though, of you. I wish I could be like you and not have a conscience or soul, it’d make my life so much more productive. Where is Travis, anyway? Shouldn’t he be playing you a song or something?”

“No study hall for him this marking period, he has creative writing. And I have a free period.”

“Join the club. Less fun than you thought it’d be, right?”

“If we’re both free, we could… I dunno, go down the street for a slice of pizza and catch up?”

“Well, Cecilia, as tempting as that sounds I have plans with somebody.”

I stopped as I reached the meeting point, which to CJ was just a random hallway corner.

“Plans with who?” she asked.

“You’ve reached your daily limit of questions,” I said with a shrug, rounding a corner. She backed off and presumably returned to the dark abyss of which she dwells. The day was starting to wear on me, I had unwanted encounters with Midtown High’s colorful characters.

“Harris!” called a demanding male voice.

“Jesus Christ…” I sighed to myself as Grant Peters rounded the next corner to greet me. He was still in basketball clothes, covered in sweat but his blond hair somehow perfectly groomed.

“We’re not  in an 80’s movie, Grant,” I said. “Calling me by my last name isn’t intimidating.”

He raised his fist. “You can’t keep ducking me forever.”

“Does nobody understand how class schedules work?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Look can we do whatever this is another time, I’m already keeping someone waiting. Plus the vice principal’s behind you.”

Grant turned to see good ol’ Mr. Strauss pretending not to be eavesdropping. Grant turned back to me and whispered.

“I warned you to stay away from CJ, but for some reason I keep seeing her around you.”

“Yeah, that’s how free will works.”

“I swear I’ll-”

“Chill, goldilocks. I have no shot with CJ now anyway, she’s with someone.”

His expression doubled in anger before surrendering to complete confusion.

“What? Who?” he eventually stuttered.

“You’ve reached your daily limit of questions.”

I bumped his shoulder with mine as I walked past him leaving him dumbfounded, his next target of threats a mystery. As I walked out, I called back,

“And you might wanna learn to move on before CJ hollars at that restraining order.”

I took a sip of today’s mystery flavor, immediately fighting the strong urge to spit the coffee out all over the table.

“Jesus,” said Carrie, raising a brow at me. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I quickly swallowed the drink and took a second to reconfigure my brain.

“What in the world is this?” I asked, rubbing my tongue with a napkin.

“Pistachio flavor.” she answered.

“Pistachio in coffee? What asylum escapee thought of that?”

“I don’t see the problem with it.”

“Nuts should never be consumed in any liquid form, ever!”

“What do you think peanut butter is?”

“Well… I mean… That’s not the same.”

Carrie shrugged and proceeded to down a quarter of her cup. She was an unusual girl, from her looks and attitude down to her taste buds.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” she began. “I stopped by the art room the other day…”

“You’re taking art class?”

“No, but there’s no rule against going in. Anyway, there were all these cool paintings and sculptures done by the kids that go here. And amidst all of these I stumbled across an amazing drawing of a giant Octopus climbing up a skyscraper… And I couldn’t help but notice your name attached to it.”

“Well, ‘amazing’ is a strong word.”

“I’ve never once seen you draw anything. Since when are you into art?”

“I’m not exactly anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Just fell out of the habit…”

“What happened?”

“Why does have to had happened?”

She pushed up her glasses skeptically. I sighed.

“It was just one dumb thing,” I explained. “A while ago I drew this dumb picture for CJ, it was supposed to be a private thing but she showed all her dumb friends and everybody found out and laughed at me, now whenever I think of drawing I feel… Intellectually deficient.”

“So that’s why you stopped?” Carrie tried to process it. “A girl ruined something you love doing? Geeze, boys are sensitive.”

“What encouraging insight, as always.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re good at something and you like doing it, you shouldn’t let one intellectually deficient experience stop you.”

“Easy to say when you’re the one sneaking around art rooms, digging up old dirt. I bet you have a bunch of secret talents nobody knows about too.”

“Well, only one…”

She looked away nervously. I wasn’t expecting that.

“What is it?” I asked. She didn’t want to answer.

“Come on.” I persisted. She sighed, then looked around the cafe to make sure we were alone. She then closed her eyes, opened her mouth and sang.

In daylights, in sunsets

In midnights, in cups of coffee

In inches, in miles

In laughter in strife

In five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes

How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love?

How about love?

How about love?

Measure in love…

I’d never gotten goosebumps from hearing someone sing before, but hey, first times for everything. I’d learned it then, Carrie Thompson had the voice of an angel. By the time she opened her eyes and looked at me, my jaw was hanging low and my expression was completely frozen. Hers became uneasy and embarrassed, she looked away uneasily.  

“I knew I shouldn’t have done that…” she sighed.

“Carrie…” I said, trying to comfort her while simultaneously getting my thoughts together. “That was amazing!”

This is at my Uncle T’s house, before we moved to a new neighborhood. I’m only six or seven, and I don’t really know for sure what’s going on. I just know my dad dropped me off here almost a week ago and hasn’t been back since. It’s the middle of the night, I’m supposed to be in bed sleeping.

I’m creeping slowly down the hallway, approaching the stairs when I hear someone walking toward the front door. But there are two sets of footsteps happening. My Uncle is one of them but I can’t think of who the other would be.

“I don’t need this,” a man’s voice says angrily. “Who do you think you are, lecturing me?”

It’s my dad, that’s his voice. But why didn’t he tell me he was here?

“Who do you think you are?” my Uncle T shot back. “Certainly not a father.”

“You said you would take care of Richard, what’s the problem? What, do you need money or something?”

“I don’t care about your money! I care that there’s a little boy sleeping right now who goes to bed every night wondering where his dad is!”

“Just tell him he lives here now.”

“You think it’s that easy? You don’t want to be in his life, I get it. But don’t leave him hanging for something that’s never gonna happen.”

Never gonna happen? My dad doesn’t want to… What?

I can’t think anymore, I can’t breathe either I just start shaking. I try my hardest not to make any sound and tears start shooting down my face. I can’t stop shaking, can’t stop crying. I run back into Uncle T’s guest room, my room now. I shake and cry until I fall asleep on the mattress with no cover.