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I getthe last seat on the bus and am sitting next to an older man. I’m writing a text to Kate when he attempts to peek over and read it. I angle it away from the nosy guy and shoot him a dark look. Fuck, I hate public transportation.
Me: I think Noah helped me see what I was hung up on with my painting.
Kate:Really? Well, I guess it was a good thing you both didn’t fuck right away.
I startle the old man with a loud chuckle. But this time, he keeps his eyes straight ahead.
Me:Yes, but I’m renaming it.
The more I think about it, naming this pictureThe Brideis fucking boring. It doesn’t invoke anything I want it to.
Me:I’m on my way to work. I’ll have an ETA on that piece later in the week.
I flip to my photos and the albums marked projects. I have a few rough sketches of my next couple of possible pieces, but looking at them through a new lens, maybe I’ll have inspiration. And if Noah is my muse, then so be it.
* * *
How many wayscan one person order his coffee? A large hazelnut latte with three pumps of vanilla, half with whole milk, and half with two percent, extra froth made of coconut milk, hold the whip cream, extra hot with five ice cubes, a teaspoon of cinnamon, and a quarter teaspoon of salt. Fucking salt in a coffee? I hate my job, but coffee shops are as popular in Seattle as pasta is in Italy.
The infuriating order rounds the corner of our drive-through and hands me a ten-dollar bill. I expect him to say keep the change. After all, his coffee is almost nine dollars, but as I count back the change, he greedily takes it and drives off while I’m still speaking.
I shake off the rude customer. I’m determined my day will end with Noah in my arms, or it’s my hope.
I need to get out of this place. But it affords me the bare minimum to live on and gives me time to volunteer at the boys and girls club down the street from my apartment. My kids, as I call them, hunger for their weekly art classes, and they have a lot of talent. I hope I’m an inspiration to them, as my art teacher, Mr. Greer, was to me.
The morning is tedious, and the only bright light is I’m by myself. People continue to order crazy coffees, but my mind stays fixed on Noah.
A worried voice comes through the speaker outside. “Hello, is anyone there?”
Shit! I better take the poor person’s order before she bursts a blood vessel at her lack of caffeine. “Sorry to keep you waiting, ma’am, how can I help you?”
I do what I need to do to survive the day, until someone comes to replace me almost an hour late. I hate this job, but it’s a means to an end, at least for now.
11
Noah
My lips turninto what I’m sure is a sappy grin when his text comes through.
Ash:I got caught up at work. My replacement didn’t come in when I was scheduled to leave. Let me run home and shower and change. I don’t want to go out smelling like coffee.
I didn’t know he worked an outside job. I guess I was lucky. First, I had both of my grandparents’ trust funds. I worked on my art through college, and I’d caught the eye of Kate before I ever graduated, and was successful early on. She calls me the outlier.
Me:I don’t mind coffee.
Ash:Non-negotiable. I have to shower. Wanna meet there?
I’ve not told him what I have planned.
Me:Why don’t I pick you up at your apartment?
It’s quiet on his end and I wonder if I’ve hit a nerve. A text finally comes through.
Ash:Actually, here’s the address for the pharmacy I use. I need to pick up a prescription. Why don’t you meet me there?
There’s something he’s hiding. And he needs a prescription? What for?
Ash:I have asthma, and I forgot to pick up my inhaler.
