The Second Chance Year(15)
“Sure. Where are you going? Higher Grounds?” I drop my apartment key back into my purse. Hopefully, Zoe’s shift will be over. I’m not sure how I’d explain the cat thing to Jacob.
But he shakes his head. “I’ve walked by that place, but never tried it. Is that your favorite?”
Wait a minute. How is it possible Jacob has never been to Higher Grounds? When I worked there during my Very Bad Year, he used to come in all the time. I’d always assumed he was annoyed I’d gotten a job at his regular spot. He barely spoke three words to me, but sometimes he and Mrs. Kaminski used to chat for a minute. He was one of the few people she never barked at.
If it’s January, and he’s never been there, when did he become a regular? He wouldn’t have started going to Higher Grounds because I worked there… would he?
My mind is spinning like a whisk in a bowl. But Jacob is still waiting for an answer, so I nod. “Yeah, it’s great. Want to try it?”
We’re mostly quiet on the walk over, but for once, it’s companionable. Maybe I’m just too tired for awkwardness. When we arrive at Higher Grounds, I’m relieved to see that Zoe is gone for the day, although Mrs. Kaminski is still in her usual spot right next to the cash register, the best position to harass the customers and staff.
When she sees me, she yells, “Hey, it’s Sadie, the Cat Lady!” and starts cackling. There’s no way Jacob didn’t hear, but she seems more off-her-rocker than even I do, so I doubt he thinks anything of it.
Luckily, Mrs. Kaminski goes back to antagonizing José Luis, the barista on duty this evening, and she doesn’t say more about my cat fetish. José Luis is a design student at the Fashion Institute of Technology, and during my Very Bad Year, he used to work on his sketches when business was slow. One day, when he found out I was a former pastry chef, he drew a picture of me in a pink wedding-cake dress with piped-flower ruffles, macaron jewelry, and a strawberry cupcake hat. I wish I still had it. But like everything about the past year of my life, that sketch never existed.
Mercifully, I remember I’m not supposed to know José Luis, so when Jacob waves me to the counter in front of him, I stick to my coffee order.
“And your friend?” José Luis asks, giving Jacob a sly up-and-down glance. Am I the only one who never noticed that Jacob is a real snack?
Distracted, I mumble, “Café Americano, please,” without thinking. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize my mistake. I’ve made Jacob dozens of café Americanos. It’s all he ever ordered when he came into Higher Grounds. But in this version of my year, he’s never been here before, and I’ve never made him coffee before. How do I explain how I know this?
I peek up at him, and now he looks stunned. “How did you know that’s my coffee order?”
“Oh, you know…” I look around the café for inspiration. “I guess…” Above the counter, Christmas lights twinkle, leftover decorations from the recent holiday. That’s it. “Christmas! And Thanksgiving! When you come over for the holidays with my family, you always have a café Americano after dinner.” I have literally no idea if this is true, but my parents have one of those fancy, pretentious espresso machines they like to break out when their intellectual friends come over, so it’s probably true. It still doesn’t explain why I would have paid any attention to his coffee preferences, when I barely paid any attention to him. But it’s been a hard day, okay?
He nods, clearly still skeptical. But what else is he going to think? That I used to work here and make him drinks, and then I came back in time, and now I know things that I technically have no way of knowing?
Who would believe a story like that?
Jacob turns to Mrs. Kaminski and leans forward to peer into her empty coffee cup. “Can I get you anything?” he asks, and for a moment, her face registers surprise. I imagine mine looks the same.
Mrs. Kaminski always drinks plain black coffee, but now that Jacob’s buying, she orders a Mediterranean veggie panini and an extra-large café mocha. Oh, and a brownie to go. Shrewd lady.
“That was nice of you,” I murmur while we wait for our order.
He shrugs. “She seems like she just needs somebody to pay a little attention to her.” And at that moment, my insides turn to custard. Mrs. Kaminski is a grumpy old bat. But I guess I never thought about the fact that she’s really just lonely, and probably doesn’t have anywhere else to spend her days.
While José Luis sets the espresso machine to drip and grabs the milk from the fridge under the counter, Jacob asks if I want to get a table. I’m about to say yes when my phone buzzes with a text. It’s Alex. I told him I’d meet him for dinner after work.
I sigh, exhausted from keeping up this charade all day long. I know it will be good for Alex and me to get back to normal, but right now, it’s the last thing I want to do.
“Everything okay?” Jacob asks.
“Yeah, I… I forgot I’m supposed to meet Alex.” My shoulders droop. “He’s waiting at my apartment.”
If Jacob is disappointed, he doesn’t show it. And to be honest, he’s probably not disappointed. He has a Joshua James film score to compose, and my brother to meet for drinks, and a whole life he doesn’t need to wish away.
Jacob approaches the counter. “Excuse me,” he calls to José Luis. “Can we get those coffees to go?”