The Art of Diplomacy

Four, five. Six? It didn’t matter. It wasn’t the number. The presence of one stranger was enough to make Anaya Coleman sweat.  Sitting in a Starbucks, she stared at the warm cup of coffee on her table. Anaya held on to it with both hands, studying the rich black coffee as if it were a crystal ball predicting her future. She had felt embarrassed after ordering the coffee. The woman in line behind her had exclaimed a “What?” when Anaya had ordered a plain black coffee. At Starbucks. She had ordered the simplest coffee she could think of to get out of the queue fast. But there was also an innate comfort in black coffee. Anaya relied very much on comfort for her mental peace. Her first time in five years at a Starbucks had gained her the attention she did not want. So she stared at her cup of coffee, refusing to look elsewhere. She didn’t want to risk finding another pair of eyes staring at her. ‘f**k you, anxiety’, she thought. Anaya closed her eyes and sipped her blasphemous black coffee.  You couldn’t really make an accurate judgment about Anaya as she sat there drinking coffee. What you would see was a young Black woman, dressed in high waist jeans and a short blouse. She looked sensible; that was the first thing anyone thought when they saw her. She had what some would call artistic hands. Glossy peach-coloured nails adorned her delicate looking fingers which held the cup of coffee. Her long legs almost spilled out of the tiny corner chair she occupied. Her hair was a modest Afro that made her face seem elongated, drawing more attention to her high cheekbones. See, you wouldn’t know what to make of her unless you knew her. But isn’t that true for every stranger you meet? Anaya had worn those chic professional looking clothes for an appointment with her client, one who had offered her a substantial amount of money. She was an artist indeed, but her art always materialized on a digital sketch pad. She sat in an awkward position keeping her legs close to herself, because she was afraid of taking up more space in the world than the world was willing to give her. Her debilitating social anxiety contributed to her reluctance to maintain sustained eye contact. She was capable of doing it, but not for long without breaking into a sweat or feeling panic rise in her chest. And all of this you would never know unless you were Anaya’s parents, or one of the few close friends she had.  It was long past the meeting time for Anaya and her client. She wasn’t surprised that he was running late. He was one of those internet celebrities who had made it “big” living in New York. So obviously he would bail on her once or twice to show how busy he was. But his celebrity was the main reason she had agreed to an in-person meeting. Lord knew she needed the exposure that would come from an endorsement by him. Her unofficial agent - but her official best friend - Leona, was busy juggling newborn twins and the move to a new apartment. So Anaya coaxed her partner in crime to take a break from work though she knew how invaluable Leona was for the job. Leona made sure Anaya didn’t have to deal with the people-y part of being a freelance artist, such as advertising, promoting her content or talking to people who didn’t want to pay Anaya for her work. ‘At least I don’t have to do furry commissions anymore’, she thought. That was ages ago. She was still taking the subway from Brooklyn when her career as a freelancer had picked up. That was before she had moved to Park Slope. That was before the whole Edwin Milton thing. ‘I need a f*****g drink, not a coffee’ She sighed as the palpable knot in her stomach tightened, making her feel the presence of strangers around her more acutely.                                                                                               *** The man observing Anaya from the other end of the café seemed intrigued. He and his companion had witnessed the whispered outrage that had followed after Anaya told the barista her order. The companion had left, but Chayton had stayed behind for a few minutes. He felt sorry for the beautiful woman who had been silently ridiculed for not ordering a fancy coffee at Starbucks. He believed her to be a kindred spirit. Starbucks wasn’t his cup of tea either. Well, he loved coffee but not the excessively sweetened, creamed kind which they were known for. He liked his coffee the way he liked his women – strong, warm and intense. At first glance, it was difficult to tell if the lovely woman he was looking at possessed any of those qualities. But Chayton hoped she did.  As he got out of his seat, buttoning his suit jacket when he stood up, Chayton could tell Miss Plain Black Coffee wanted to be left alone. He resolved to only say a few kind words and make his exit before she started to think he was a creep. But as his steps brought him closer to her, he began to see just how beautiful she was. Long lashes that hooded her big eyes, making them seem demure and wistful. Lips that looked like something only a skilled paintbrush could create. And the aura of someone who promised to be full of wit and humour if you only took the time to know her. Chayton’s approach made the young woman look up. He noticed she had put on her eyeliner in the Egyptian style. Chayton liked a woman who could use makeup to enhance her features, instead of dimming or whitewashing them. He wasn’t particular about women’s looks though. He just liked good people. And as he smiled at the slightly alarmed woman before him, he hoped she was a good person too.  “Hello”, Chayton said. The woman gave him a small smile, never blinking her eyes. “Hi”, she said. “Sorry. I hope I’m not imposing…” “No, no. It’s okay” “I just wanted to let you know I ordered the same coffee you did, and I hope you didn’t get upset by the rude woman’s remark” “Oh, thank you” Chayton gave her a polite nod, taking in the cues of her discomfort. He said, “I’ll let you enjoy your coffee. Good day” “Thank you. Uh, good day to you too” Chayton felt a tad bit disappointed that those few sentences would be the only conversation he would have with the woman. He had hoped for more, but he was not the kind of man who trespassed on someone’s privacy, let alone a woman’s. As Chayton turned away to leave, he heard the woman meekly say – “Wait” He did. She gave him an uneasy smile. “I think I’ve been stood up. Do you want to keep me company… for a while?” Doing his best to not show how glad he felt, Chayton took the seat across her at the table. “Yes… I’m Chayton. Pleased to meet you”                                                                                           *** Never in her life had Anaya taken the first step to approach someone she might be interested in. When the opportunity presented itself in the form of Chayton, her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. She had asked an attractive man to “keep her company”? And she had done so without hyperventilating at all? Anaya couldn’t believe it even as Chayton sat before her. The more she looked at him, the more she realized why she had been courageous enough to ask for his company. A heated flush seemed to settle over her chest as she studied Chayton’s appearance. He was definitely among the most handsome men she had ever seen. The word handsome wasn’t somehow enough to describe him though. Chayton was graceful, with the bearing of a gentleman. He was well put together – the clothes, the hair, and the four o’clock shadow. She had seen how tall he was. What drew Anaya to him most was that kind smile. For all his exterior sophisticated charm, Chayton’s smile made him look like the most approachable and affectionate man around. He could pass for one of those models with their beautiful stoic faces, but that smile would give him away. “I’m Anaya”, she said. “Anaya” He repeated her name with a softness which made her want to purr. Her mind was at war with itself. It screamed “STRANGER DANGER!” and “RIDE HIM!” at the same time. Anaya gave him another smile, waiting for him to speak. “I hope I didn’t bother you. I’m not really in the habit of walking up to strangers and talking to them”, Chayton said. “Me neither. I usually just pretend I’m the only one in the room”, she paused after a thought, “Not that I wish that was the case… right now. I mean I don’t mind you being here. At all” Chayton gave her another warm smile. “That’s good to know” There was a delicious pause in the conversation before Chayton spoke. “So you like black coffee or hate Starbucks?” Anaya grinned like someone had deflated the stress compressed in her lungs. She spoke with ease. “I actually prefer my coffee with cream and a sprinkle of spice” “Nutmeg?” “Cinnamon mostly” “Hm. Interesting” “What about you?” Chayton said, “I’m not a huge coffee drinker, but when I do drink it, I prefer it without all the creamers and the sugar. I’m ashamed to say I have a very medicinal approach towards coffee” “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I get it” “I’m glad you’re not a coffee cop like some of my friends” Was he flirting with her? Decoding social cues had never been Anaya’s forte. But she hoped Chayton was flirting with her. He made her feel… tingly. The feelings were much like what she had felt the first time Tanya Robertson had put makeup on her in seventh grade. The proximity with her cute classmate had made her giddy and more than a little self-conscious. It was little Anaya’s first time experiencing romantic attraction towards another person. Chayton’s presence seemed to have reinvigorated that thrill in her. “To answer your actual question”, Anaya said, “I don’t hate Starbucks. I just ordered what I thought would get me out of the queue the fastest” “Not a fan of queues?” “Crowds”, she said, “I have a thing about crowds” She bit her lip. Why did she say it was a “thing”? There was no shame in having anxiety. Anaya explained. “I actually have severe social anxiety. Getting out of the house is a milestone in itself, let alone sitting in Starbucks and having people judge me” “I’m sorry to hear that. I apologise for that woman’s remark. It was haughty and insensitive” “You don’t have to apologise for a stranger” To her amusement, Chayton did not look cartoonish-ly sympathetic like most people did when she told them she had anxiety. Nor did he look completely apathetic, as if to convey anxiety wasn’t a real disorder. He seemed curious and empathetic. He looked like he wanted to know more about her experience with anxiety instead of making any comments about it himself. “It’s remarkable that you have endured the ordeal of being here for so long. I don’t have any experience with anxiety myself but I imagine it must be painful and scary” No one she knew had ever referred to anxiety as painful. Chayton was the first person she met to understand that anxiety, like any other ailment, could be painful. And she found that insanely attractive about him. “It’s not painful and scary right now”, she said. Her lilting manner of saying that made Chayton beam at her. He seemed curious now, and interested. That she was sure of. He was interested in her. “What does it feel like right now?” Anaya answered that after giving the answer its due consideration. She said, “It feels like I’m at an amusement park and I’m looking at a ride. The ride could be scary; it could be nothing I expected. But it looks exciting. And I want to try it” She laughed with Chayton when he blushed. He looked shy as he said, “Now I’m afraid of disappointing you” Anaya, bolstered with a burst of courage, said, “The disappointment would be mine to discover. You don’t have to worry about that” Chayton said, “For someone with social anxiety, you are really smooth” “That’s because I’m only awkward until I get comfortable with someone” “Well, that is a compliment” Anaya considered ordering another cup of coffee to make Chayton stay. She didn’t have to order anything else though. Chayton stayed anyway.  They talked about favorites. Politics, food, drinks, books, movies, music – nothing seemed too trivial. They shared little to no personal information and that suited Anaya well. She learned that Chayton loved baklava, that he used to be obese as a kid, that his job made him travel a lot, that he thought Russian literature was overrated, and that he wasn’t American. She told him she had too many hobbies, too much free time, that she had been an only child, and that she cried every time she listened to Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change is Gonna Come’. Anaya’s notorious black coffee stood cold and forgotten on the table top. It almost got knocked off the table when she laughed at something Chayton said, slamming her forearm on the table as she did. He held the cup of coffee to keep it from spilling all over her arm. His hand brushed against her soft wrist, bringing with the touch a furtive silence.  Chayton found Anaya looking into his eyes with hope and invitation. It took much of his self-restraint to not lean across the table and kiss her there and then. She wasn’t what he had expected to find on his visit to the US, but boy was he glad to have found her. “Anaya…” He gently pulled his hand away from her wrist, watching her gaze follow his hand. He wanted her to know he was being earnest. “This has been the best day I have had in a while, thanks to you. But I have to attend to some work stuff soon, so I have to go. Sorry” The tone of her voice coupled with that smile made him want to cancel the meeting with Mr. Reynolds. ‘If only…’ “Are all your apologies so elaborate?”, Anaya asked. “Only the ones I mean. And I never say anything I don’t mean” Chayton said that with the tenderness he wasn’t aware he possessed. For him, it was just how he spoke. For the people he comforted, spoke to at length, his voice was soothing and amiable. “Doesn’t every man say that?”, Anaya teased him. “I don’t know about that but I stand by what I said”, he watched the twinkle in her eyes as he said, “I would love to see you again, Anaya. I’m afraid it won’t be any soon but I really want to see you again” It was his turn to smirk as she blushed. Anaya said, “I’d like that” “If I write my number on a napkin, will you hold on to it?” She grinned. “Why don’t you just enter your number in my phone, old man?” Chayton was capable of laughing at himself. “I just thought it would be more romantic”, he said. He recited his number and watched Anaya enter it into her phone. She said, “You know what? Let me send you a text. If you just give me your number, I might chicken out and we’ll never see each other again” “God, I hope not” His phone vibrated with a text. It was Anaya. She had written – ‘Hey Chayton. This is Anaya. We met at Starbucks & you hit on me? Let me know if you wanna hang out some time’ Anaya had an explanation ready when he looked up at her from his phone screen. She said, “Now I can say I didn’t chicken out. In fact, that text technically makes me the one to ask you out” He couldn’t stop smiling at how adorable she could be. “You seem very proud of that”, Chayton said. “Oh I am” “Excuse me for a second” Chayton quickly typed a reply to Anaya’s text. He watched her raise a brow at him, then read out the text. “New phone. Who this?’ Okay, alright”, she smirked, “You could have made it more authentic by not punctuating it properly. You know that, right?” “I did not know that” Anaya giggled. “How old are you? I’m really curious now” “I’m 31” “No way” “Why not?” She laughed, “Cause I’m 33. And I split my infinitives like a normal person. Unlike you” Chayton was enjoying teasing her. “Is proper grammar unattractive these days?”, he asked. “I didn’t say that” She gave him a meaningful look and grabbed her bag. Chayton stood up after she did. He buttoned his jacket again, asking her, “Can I drive you somewhere?” “I’m calling a cab, but thanks” “Of course. Let me walk you out” ‘A few more precious minutes until the cab gets here’, he thought.  Anaya wondered if this is what characters in romantic movies felt after a meet-cute. She was standing on the curb outside a Starbucks, next to a gorgeous, funny and interesting man. Someone she barely knew, but would miss once he left. Chayton’s black hair looked slick and glossy in the sunlight. He had had a small smile on his face all throughout their conversation. She knew she had had one too. Standing close to Chayton, smelling his light (and definitely expensive) cologne, Anaya wanted to do more with her lips than smile. ‘Gosh he makes me horny’ She did her best to appear nonchalant as Chayton admired her side profile. He said to her, “I will call you when I’m in New York again” She nodded. The people passing by made her want to run back inside the Starbucks, but she remembered there were people in there too. Her therapist had suggested that she try some of the grounding exercises when the anxiety reared its head. She didn’t care about the grounding exercises or the presence of the people around her suffocating her. She just wished with all her might it wasn’t goodbye. “Are you Anaya?”, the cab driver asked. She hadn’t noticed him pull up, and she didn’t think Chayton had either. Anaya gave the driver a nod and turned to Chayton. She took a deep breath and said to him, “It was nice meeting you, Chayton” “It was nice meeting you too. Until we meet again?” "Yes"  He smiled. Anaya watched him open the cab’s door for her, and she gave him a playful eye roll as she walked past him. Bittersweet feelings rolled over her, watching Chayton standing there on the curb as her cab drove away. She could see him standing there until he became just another fading point on the horizon.