But he doesn’t answer.
A COINCIDENCE
I wake up early, having gone to bed at seven forty-five last night to avoid being conscious. I scroll on my phone for too long, looking at pictures of celebrities out in the wild. An Oscar-winning actress in the parking lot of a Los Angeles grocery store holding a case of trendy seltzer while wearing sweatpants and no makeup. A disheveled former action star in a grubby, sweat-stained T-shirt out walking his dog. A young heartthrob dining alfresco, shoving french fries into his mouth. Something about these photos brings me peace. They help get me out of bed.
I put on a white oxford shirt, navy slacks and loafers. I stare at myself in the mirror, and my celebrity-photo zen dissipates. I have to analyze my outfit, my makeup, my hair. I have to ask myself, What can they make fun of me for?
This process involves picking apart my appearance. It involves being mean to myself.
If they’re going to make fun of me for being birdlike, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t change my bone structure, my nose. I can’t change my long, scrawny neck. Maybe a scarf? Would they have something to say about that?
I leave my apartment sooner than necessary, just to get away from the mirror. I’d rather not arrive at school super early because I really don’t want to be there, so when I see the Good Mug, I pull into the nearest parking space.
I want a latte and to look at that handsome dad.
It’s a little pale green building with white shutters. It looks almost like a garden shed. When I walk in, a bell dings overhead. Oskar looks up from behind the counter and smiles politely. He’s got a rag over his shoulder. I bet he’s always got a rag over his shoulder. I bet he sleeps with it there.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Rose is sitting at a table near the door, reading and drinking coffee out of a comically large mug. She’s wearing thick-rimmed round glasses and a beret. “How’d you like the jam?”
“I had some yesterday,” I say. “It’s great. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Annie,” she says. “You’ll be back Saturday for more?”
“I will.”
“Good, good. Oskar, this girl’s a sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Rose,” I say. My entire face is blushing; I can feel it. My forehead. My chin. I can barely look at Oskar now. “Morning.”
“Morning, Annie. What can I get for you?”
“Um . . . can I have a large latte?”
“Any flavor? I can do vanilla, hazelnut, maple, cinnamon, honey, almond. I can do lavender, but that’s not for everyone. My son says it tastes like soap.”
“I like the taste,” I say. “Of lavender, not of soap. Though I haven’t tasted a lot of soaps, so who’s to say?”
Really, Annie? Really?
“I like lavender, too,” he says mercifully. “I usually do it with a little almond. I think it balances.”
“I’ll do that, then.”
“Coming up,” he says. He starts working the large fancy espresso machine.
“So, you’re a teacher?” he asks.
“Yes. English and ASL.” I don’t know how he knows. Someone must have told him. I guess it’s that small-town thing: News travels fast. Not that my profession is news, but . . .
“Erik goes to Aster. He’s a freshman.”
“Maybe he’ll be in my class next year.”
He pours the milk, moving his wrist to create a pattern. His eyebrows pinch together, and a strand of silver hair falls in his face.
He pushes the cup toward me.
“On me,” he says. “If you like it, come back again soon.”
“You’ll be back,” Rose says. “Oskar makes the best coffee.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I feel bad. I lived in the city, so I’m not used to this . . . this . . .”
“Small-town hospitality?” Oskar asks, stroking his scruff. He smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, taking the cup. “Bye, Rose!”
“Bye, sweetheart. Have a good day.”
By the time I’m back in my car driving to school, my mood has done a complete one-eighty. It’s all sunshine. The rest of my morning, powered by a latte that tastes like heaven, is pleasant and easy. In my first few classes, everyone behaves.
At lunch, I eat alone in my classroom. I check my phone to see if Sam has reached out at all. He hasn’t, but I have a text from Nadia asking how I am.
Good, I say, and it doesn’t feel like a lie. Town is precious. People are nice. Met a new friend who is super glamorous and lives in a . How are you?