10/6/11

Starbucks
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                “Ouch,” just hat one word sent a whole spasm of pain to shoot everywhere in my fragile body. I was very close to death, and I knew it, but no one else would ever know, not even her.

                “Valley, are you okay? Valley?” asks little Mia worry coating her voice.

                “Mia, do you remember the first day we met?” I say changing the subject. I couldn’t let her know that I was dying, not now and not ever.

                “Yeah, I remember,” she says confused.

                “Go back and fully remember it please for me?” I breathe out as forcefully as I can, but before I can see if she agreed, I started to remember it myself.

                It was a stormy day; I was at Starbucks with my sick boyfriend. One of his final death wishes was for us to go to Starbucks together where we first met. And I agreed, dreading the day when he’ll be gone. We’ve been through too much together, and yet he had skin cancer through it all, where he found it a bit too late. We were sitting together, my head resting on his shoulder, his frail arm around me. His breathing was slow and steady, as well as mine. It was a perfect moment the only thing that was separating us was a coffee cup.

                Noise was everywhere, from business people talking on their cell phones, to the steady quick typing of the novelists doing the annual Nanowrimo. There were also constant little giggles of the schoolgirls nearby eyeing the classic high school player.

                “Valley-” he yelped in pain as a cup of coffee flew into his lap.

                “Nate! Are you okay?!” I start freaking out grabbing a bunch of napkins to soak up his quickly growing stain.

                “Oh my gosh! I’m so, so sorry,” said Little Mia freaking out. And just those seven words quickly made us friends.

Now it has been two years, and I was battling with breast cancer found too late. Just exactly, how it was like, for Nate, I almost smile as Little Mia’s face started to light up with understanding. Tears started to form in her eyes her hands shaking almost spilling the coffee cup. The nanos and the wrimos were quickly typing up their novels, the business people were talking about the next new big thing, and the girls were giggling eyeing the new it high school boy.

                “Well good bye,” she says.

                “It has been a good two years, Little Mia,” I say, before standing up to leave Starbucks and Little Mia forever.