Verse 4
1670 Words
I open my eyes to a familiar silhouette. White sheets. Bright sunlight. Is this a fabric softener commercial?
I close my eyes and go back to sleep, or at least try to. Truthfully, I should get up. But truthfully I don't care. I feel arms pull me in and the tickle of someone else's hair by my ear, "Good morning, Love."
"Good morning."
Her breath flutters across my face as her lips press against my cheek.
"NATALIE!"
I jump at the sound of my Nana's voice as she throws open my door, "Early bird gets the worm!" She rips the curtains to my window open, flooding my front facing room with light.
I pull my sheets up above my head, "Give me a minute. Please." Damn.
She exits my room and I craddle my head in my hands, sitting up. My head hurts at the sudden explosion of both sound and light.
Nana Baker is just as bad being at home with Umma. It was uncanny how similar they were. And even more unnerving that Nana is Appa's mom, not even related to Umma.
I shower and get dressed. Last night counts dream number five. Each one about her. Each one just as sickeningly sweet as the one before. Each one without my loving boyfriend.
I pull my wet hair back into a ponytail and join Nana at the table.
"I don't know why you don't take the extra time to do something with your hair," she fusses, giving me a plate of toast, eggs, and fresh fruit, "But I guess once I put you to work you'll have to have it pulled back anyway."
"Work?"
"You didn't think I was just going to let you stay here for free?" she laughs, "You have privileged bones. I'm going to put some work ethic into you."
Privileged bones. It's not like Umma forbade me from getting a job last year. "You're only job is school and look how you're doing at that?"
I chew on my toast harder than necessary.
"I have to get going," she tosses her plate in the sink, "But I expect you to clean up breakfast and join me at the coffee shop by noon okay?"
"Yes ma'am," I mumble into my orange juice. She leaves the apartment and I thank God for the peace that remains in her absence, scarfing down the rest of my breakfast. My phone rings just as I'm finishing with the dishes.
"Hello?"
"Good morning," James greets me, "Greetings from Florida."
"You're starting the trip already?" I groan.
"Yep," he replies, "We didn't have any finals so we left early. How's your grandma's?"
"In two days she's found a way to yell at me every hour on the hour," I continue, "So basically its like I'm still at home but without anyone I actually like around."
"That's f****d," he apologizes, "I'm coming to rescue you as soon as the cruise is over."
"Sail quickly," I laugh, "I have to go. I only have two hours to do like twenty-seven different things."
I do all of my chores quickly before heading out to the coffee shop. Walking to the train station, I meander into various stores. I stumble into an artsy store. Aisles of paint, ink, and various paper line fill the space. I don't have an artistic bone in my body, but I find myself drifting up and down the aisles aimlessly anyway. I stop in the photography aisle, taking in the different films, cameras and inks.
"Can I help you find anything?" one of the employees asks.
I panic, suddenly feeling like I have no business being in here, "Just looking."
I exit the store quickly, realizing I've already spent way too much time in there anyway. So much time, in fact, I am now late.
***
"There she is! Natalie!" Nana smiles warmly at me as I enter the store.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I apologize immediately.
"Don't worry about it," she dismisses it, "Josiah! She's here."
Idris Elba emerges from the back of my grandmother's coffee shop. Okay--- not really. But he is tall, dark, and handsome. He could easily be Idris' son. Idris Jr.
"Josiah, this is my granddaughter, Natalie," she introduces us, "Natalie, Josiah has been working here about a year now. He'll be training you."
"You're not doing it?" I hope I don't sound as relieved as I feel.
"No," she grabs her bag, "Since you're here this summer, I can finally stop working so much. I'm going to the beach. You two have fun."
Nana leaves and I put my own bag in the back of the store. Josiah follows me showing me around, "We don't have lockers or anything so you just have to use the desk." We head back to the main area, "Here's where you make the drinks. The espresso machine. We also serve tea."
He hands me a book, "Here's everything that we serve, and some secret menu items we don't. Since we're slow right now, you can sit in the back and I'll call you if we need help."
"Okay," I actually find myself listening to him and take a seat in the back. Our menu isn’t long, all of the drinks named having a biblical callback. The Esther. The Babylon. The Joshua. The Canaan. From what I can tell, the names are arbitrary. It doesn't take long for me to get through the entire thing, and when I'm done I go back to the front myself.
"Can you show me how to make some of these?"
"Sure," he smiles. His smile is toothy, revealing pearly whites. "Are you a coffee drinker?"
"Sort of," I reply, "My Umma doesn't allow caffeine in the house though."
"Umma?" he raises an eyebrow.
"My mom," I correct myself, "I'm adopted, but I still use some of the familial terms." The use of Umma and Appa weren’t even our idea according to David. Just something the Bakers insisted on when they brought us home.
"Ah," he nods, "I adopted my brother recently. But he doesn't call me dad or anything. That'd be weird." I stare at him. "Okay so what drink do you want to try?"
I pick the drink called Rose of Sharon and he shows me how to make it. "Three pumps of rose syrup. Two pumps of vanilla, two shots of espresso, steamed milk."
He hands me the drink, and awaits for me to take a sip, "How is it?"
"It’s good," I shrug, trying to think of a lie, “I’m not much into lattes ya know?” Internally, I question if religion is actually making the coffee taste worse for me and if it is, am I going to hell for thinking that?
Or am I already in hell?
I change the subject, "Are you the only other person who works here?"
His smile falters before he responds, "Um... For now yeah. We had some other people working here but they all quit in the spring."
His eyes drift to the wall like he's remembering something. He shakes his head and its his turn to change the subject, "So how is it having Mrs. Margo for a grandmother?"
The phone rings before I have to answer and I jump at the sound. Josiah grabs it, reacting quicker than me, "Genesis Cafe this is Josiah?"
The conversation is short, sprinkles with nothing but "yes ma'am" and "of course."
"Mrs. Margo wants you to detail clean the store since we're slow," he says. Of course she does.
Josiah shows me where the cleaning supplies are and puts me to work scrubbing the grout in the bathroom. When I'm done with that, I'm scrubbing the tile behind the counter. I'm an hour in before my knuckles turn white and my back starts to feel like it'll never be the same after this.
Yet something about Josiah is so charming, that it's impossible to be too down with him around. When there aren't many customers, he joins in helping me, cracking jokes, and making me laugh.
Still, I'm grateful when the long shift comes to an end at nine o'clock. Josiah shows me how to do everything, allowing me to sit back and watch for the most part. He locks up, handing me a key, "Just in case," he says, "Good night."
"Good night," I reply. I head to my station while Josiah heads into the other way to his bus stop.
If all my days are just me and Josiah, maybe this summer won't be so bad.
***
"How was work?" Nana is actually pleasant to be around when I get back to the apartment.
"It was fine," I take off my shoes, my socked feet left to pad on her atrocis colored carpet.
"You and Josiah looked to be having fun on the cameras," she smiles.
I realize what she's getting at, "Nana you know I have a boyfriend?"
"The Petrakis boy?" she scoffs, "But that's not anything serious."
"It's been a year," I say, "Yeah its serious."
"Of course its serious now," she continues, "But he's so..."
"He's what?" I get defensive, "Caring? Nice? Funny?"
"Effeminate. That boy has always been too emotional," she states, "A man like Josiah would do you good."
"James does me just fine," I insist, "Sorry if I like my men not to be robotic." I do not want to be having this conversation. And I definitely don't want to be having it with her.
"Well your mother told me about all that trouble you got into up at St. Paul's," she shrugs, "That boys so prissy you might as well date his sister."
"What?" I inhale sharply.
She doesn't repeat herself--- Not that she needs to. We both heard her loud and clear. "You're so young. I wouldn't limit yourself just yet."
"Goodnight," I stand, "I'm going to bed."
"It's still early," she calls after me.
I don't respond, instead pulling the door closed behind me.
- Writer
