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I could not be happier for him. He's a drawcard for the bar, and it's only fair that he's recognized for his contribution.
"James, can you come here for a moment?" I call out to him one day.
"What's up, boss?"
Over the months we've settled in a professional closeness, and when I need to take a few hours off, he's always the one who steps up, somehow keeping an eye on the club even from the behind the bar. He's training two others to take over so he can take a night off a week, and go off for his competitions without feeling guilty about leaving me in the lurch.
He comes to stand next to me outside the front of the club. I point to a newly painted addition to the club's front window.
"James Spritely – Winner of The Barley and Mint Bartender Competition."
He yells in surprise and pulls me in for a side hug, and I don't fight him off. It's been a long time since I've hugged someone. It feels nice. It reminds me that my brain isn't encased in a robotic body. I'm human. And sometimes it's okay that I need another human too.
Just notthathuman.
It's not okay that I needthat one.
"You're okay here for a few hours?" I say, once he releases me. "I'm meeting someone at the coffee shop on Cornelia Street."
He shoos me. "Get out of here. You're blocking my sign."
I laugh and walk away, turning only to wave him a goodbye over my shoulder.
Breath empties from my lungs.
Matthias.
I freeze, dragging in a breath, and then turn back to where James is still standing.
No Matthias. I must've imagined it.
Thinking about him for every moment of the day has me seeing him everywhere. On the other side of the bed when I open my eyes, sitting in my office at the end of the night if he needed to get some work done, standing at the Vietnamese cafe counter, laughing at me because I always order without peppers.
Everywhere.
His voice in my head, talking to me when I'm alone, encouraging me, talking problems out with me, reminding me to breathe when the anxiety hits.
And sometimes, just sometimes, I let myself remember how he told me that I was his only.
I wonder if his presence will ever fade from my brain. And I don't know if I should wish that it will or won't.
Halifax is waiting inside when I get to the café.
We're about a month away from opening the club as a morning coffee spot. For now, we'll only open from eight a.m. until twelve p.m. to see if there's a demand, and then we will figure it out from there.
Halifax talks about coffee like James talks about ice and glasses. And it's a privilege to listen to him.
"Sorry, I'm late," I mumble as I hang my bag on the back of the chair and settle into my seat.
"All good. Try this one." He pushes an espresso cup towards me. I lift it to my mouth, almost drunk from the fragrance. Thick, with hints of tobacco and caramel. I take a sip as he looks at me expectantly.
Wow," I say, the coffee hitting me in the back of the throat in an explosion of flavor. "This one, definitely."
"Great!" he grins. "That's my favorite from the Australia trip."
"I see why."
He scribbles something down on the notepad on the table and I lean forward, reading as he writes. "You smell like coffee." I giggle.
