COOL BEANS (17 page)

“Thank you! We’ll be here all week,” he says, bowing. “Go ahead, Maya, take a bow.”

I roll my eyes and laugh, trying to catch my breath. “Get away from me.”

He spreads his hands to the people. “Come back next week for our Polka Fever festivities.”

I snap a towel at him. “You are insane!”

Alisha walks in then, looks at everyone laughing and Jack bowing, and shakes her head. She smiles at Jack. “I take it you’re sleeping better now.”

He grins happily. “Yup.”

“Welcome back. It’s nice to have you coherent again.”

“You might want to remind Maya of that,” Jack says.

Alisha looks at me as I hand her an americano. “He won’t stop singing,” I tattle.

“Didn’t I tell you no singing in here when there’re customers?” Alisha teases.

He shrugs. “I guess I forgot.”

“I’ll let it slide this once.” She sips her drink. “This is perfect. Got the inventory list for me, kids?”

We go over the list and sales figures, and she picks up our time cards. “Lovely,” she says, putting her sunglasses back on her face. “Maya, have a good day. Jack, behave.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grins.

Jack turns to me after she leaves. “So, you’re doing better.”

I nod. Last night before I went to bed, I opened my Bible and read all about burnt offerings in Leviticus. And while it honestly wasn’t that interesting, it made me keep thinking about this whole idea of giving up stuff. So, I kept my promise and didn’t turn on the Style Network. Even though I missed a brand-new episode of
How Do I Look?

“I confessed everything,” I tell him in a quiet voice, so all the customers don’t overhear.

Jack’s eyebrows raise. “Wow! How’d she take it?”

“No, not to Jen. To God.”

He gives me a look. “Wait, so you confessed everything to God. What about Jen?”

“Well, it says confess your sins to
God,
so I did. And I gave up watching the Style Network, and I’m going to read my Bible instead.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack clears his throat. “So, that’s it?”

“Yep.”

“No more anxiety?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“No more guilt?”

“Well, eventually there won’t be any.” That’s what I decided anyway. No more guilt, no more confusing feelings about Travis. It’s all a matter of deciding to move on. Right?

“And you gave up watching the Style Network,” he repeats. “How does that fit into this?”

“Well, it doesn’t really. It’s just my way of showing God that I’m serious.”

“Nutkin. I’m not a theological genius or anything — ”

“Yeah?”

“But I think you might have a sort of skewed view here.”

“Do you think I should give up TLC, too? I debated it, but I really like Stacy and Clinton.”

He shakes his head. “How about you talk to Andrew about this tonight at Bible study?”

“About what?”

“Just the whole ‘giving up stuff to compensate’ thing.” He touches my shoulder. “I think he’ll probably be able to help more than me.”

I shrug. It makes sense to me. I’m not explaining it to Jack very well, apparently. “Okay,” I say, just to pacify him. I walk over to the register to greet a new customer. “Hi there.”

“Hi. A small coffee, please.”

I’m wandering the aisles of our local grocery store at five thirty that night. Norah Jones is playing softly over the speakers, and I can hear a mom shushing her kids in the aisle next to me. I’ve got a bag of Calvin’s dog food in the basket, and now I’m staring at the cereal section.

Remember when there were only like five different kinds of kids’ cereal and all of them were advertised on the cartoon channels? I gape at the fifty different kinds of sugar-filled, colorful cereal that all claim to be part of a healthy breakfast.

Right.

I pick up a box of Mini-Wheats and decide that’s healthy enough for me.

“No, Wayne, I told them that our clients’ cases have the
utmost
privacy, not
at most
privacy.”

Harried voice, talking about clients, the word
Wayne
— it couldn’t be anyone but my lovely roommate in the next aisle over.

I push my basket around the corner to go say hi and stop right before she sees me.

Jen’s not alone. Travis has a small carrying basket in his left hand and Jen’s hand in his right. Jen’s rolling her eyes at him as she talks to her boss.

“Yes. Yes, Wayne. Okay. All right. Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hangs up with a groan. “I’m sorry,” she sighs to Travis.

He gives her a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. Is he okay?”

“Is he ever okay?”

He laughs. She smiles and scoots a little closer to him. They stop and face the pasta section.

“What sounds good for dinner, babe?” Travis asks, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

We are still in a grocery store, right? Not a gazebo in the park?

“Mmm. Fettuccine?”

“Good choice. Maybe with chicken and some fresh vegetables?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jen says, smiling into his eyes.

I silently slink back into the cereal aisle as he leans down to kiss her. I make a face. Good grief. Do people really want to see someone make out in the pasta section? I think not. Unless it’s
Lady and the Tramp,
I think kissing parties should avoid pasta.

Never in my life have I heard asking about fettuccine with chicken as a prompt to pucker up. Maybe it’s the new pickup line. “Hey, do you like fettuccine?”

Lord, help me remember. No guilt, and Travis is history! He can kiss whomever he wants.
Still … it’s hard not to remember what it was like… .

I put the Mini-Wheats back. Tonight requires something serious.

I fill the cart with a box of Cocoa Puffs, a bag of marshmal-lows, Oreos, peanut butter, and a rental copy of
My Best Friend’s Wedding.

I wait until Jen and Travis have checked out before I approach the cash register.

“Bad day?” the lady asks me.

“No.”

“Sure.” She tells me the total. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks.” I grab my sugar-laden bags and head to the car. Bible study starts in almost three hours. That gives me plenty of time to go have a bowl of cereal and start the movie, especially since Jen is apparently otherwise occupied.

I get home, greet Calvin, kick off my shoes, and pour a bowl of chocolate.

Popping the movie in, I settle down with Calvin on the sofa. I have one bite in my mouth, and we’ve just watched Julia Roberts review a restaurant’s odd-looking food.

“That looks gross,” I tell Calvin, pointing with my spoon.

“Roo!” he agrees.

My phone rings right as I finish slurping the last of the milk out of my bowl. I push the pause button on the DVD remote. “Hello, my loveliest mother,” I say.

Mom laughs. “Okay, so you either don’t answer the phone well, or you answer it so well that it makes me think you want something from me.”

“Only your unconditional love, Mommy.”

“As long as you don’t repeat puberty, I can probably promise that.”

“Well, thanks.” I roll my eyes at Calvin.

“What?” Mom protests. “You have to remember how horrible you were as a thirteen-year-old.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t.”

“You must have mentally blocked it because you were terrible. Everything made you burst into tears, and poor Zachary couldn’t even walk through the room without something being hurled through the air at him.”

I gape at Calvin. “Okay, that part I do remember! He definitely deserved every single one of those things being thrown at his head. He was mean. It wasn’t my fault my acne was so bad.”

Mom laughs. “The bad part about having a boy and a girl
four years apart like you two are. You both went through puberty around the same time.”

“Someday I might forgive him.”

“Anyway, I didn’t call to talk about you throwing things at your brother.”

“Okay.” I let Calvin lick the Cocoa Puffs remains out of the bowl and push stop on the remote, settling in for a long conversation.

“It’s Zachary’s birthday on Monday, so I think we should celebrate it on Sunday since you’re coming for dinner.” Mom gets all giddy. “It will be his first family birthday party since he left for college!”

I take the bowl back from Calvin before he licks through the ceramic. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Now. What are you getting him for his birthday?”

I frown. “Um. Probably the same thing I’ve gotten him for the last eight years.”

“What?”

“A card.”

“Maya,” Mom chides, “you can’t be more creative? This is a big birthday. This is the last time he has the word
twenty
in his age.”

I scratch Calvin’s ears. “So, what should I get him?”

“Actually, I already have an idea for you.”

“I figured.”

“Funny, Maya. No, I think you should give Zach a gift certificate for a massage. He’s been complaining for the last week about his neck hurting.”

“Doesn’t he work in a hospital? Couldn’t they take care of that for him?”

Mom ignores me. “And if you want to splurge a little, you
could give him a whole day at the spa.”

I make a face at Calvin. “This is Zach we’re talking about, Mom. I cannot picture him in a spa, and I’m not sure I want to.”

“But it’s
so
relaxing. I think he’d love it.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, he wouldn’t. But he would if he’d let himself.”

I laugh. “I know what to get you for your birthday. So what are you getting him?”

“Your father and I got him an engraved stethoscope.”

“I thought you got him that for graduation.”

“No, for graduation, we got him an engraved briefcase.”

“Oh. Nice.” I glance at the clock. “Well, I’m not sure what I’ll get him then. But I actually need to get ready to go to Bible study.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Well, we’ll probably meet at that steakhouse we always went to when you were a little kid.”

“Sounds good. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too. Have a good night.”

I hang up and pull on a pair of sneakers. Calvin starts hopping around excitedly, running for his leash.

“Aww, baby, we’re not going on a walk.”

“Roo!”

I take the leash from him and have him sit down, trying to explain. “It’s Wednesday. I have Bible study.”

He cocks his head at me.

“Bible study,” I say, louder. “I have to go.”

“Roo?”

“Like every Wednesday night. But how about we have a bowl of ice cream together when I get home?”

“Roo! Roo!”

“Okay.” I smile and rub his ears. Like owner, like dog. Ice cream can cure just about anything.

Jack is pulling into the parking lot right as I do. “Hi again, Maya.” He grins, climbing out of his truck.

“Your face has to be killing you after all that smiling.”

He grins wider. “My cheeks are kind of sore. Nothing like Canis’s, though. He’s so happy, he can’t stop singing.”

Once again, like owner, like dog.

I wonder if there’s a legal limit of how many times you can think that in one evening. If not, there probably should be.

He follows me into Cool Beans. Lisa and my other co-worker, Rachel, are busily making lattes.

“Want anything?” Jack asks.

“Mmm. Nah. I’m fairly close to the lethal limit of caffeine consumed. I should probably pass.”

“Suit yourself.” He goes to the counter. “Hey, Rachel. Can I get a decaf caramel cinnamon latte?”

Ooh.
That sounds good. I lick my lips, thinking about the gooey caramel topping, the creamy milk, the slightly roasted taste of espresso… .

“Sure thing, Jack,” Rachel says. She starts foaming the milk, and the espresso machine begins whirring.

Resist, resist…

I clamp my hands together. “I’m going to go find a seat,” I say in a hoarse voice, heading for the row of chairs in the back of the room. If you can take yourself out of the place of temptation, it always goes better.

I find a couple of chairs, lay my Bible on one, and drop my jacket on the other to save them.

“Evening, Maya.”

“Hi, Andrew.”

I squint at the oversized Viking and frown. “Did you iron your shirt?”

He shifts in his almost-crispy button-down. “Why?”

“And what’s with the dark-rinsed jeans?”

“What?”

I point. “And you’re wearing
loafers,”
I over-enunciate. “What happened to your Pumas? And your carpenter jeans? And your wrinkled polo shirt?”

He sighs. “What’s with you being all overly observant?”

“I did have six cups of coffee today.”

“Oh.” He gapes. “That’s bad for you.”

“Probably. It smelled good.”

He grins.

Jack comes over holding two to-go cups. “Here,” he says, handing me one. “Wipe the drool off your chin.”

“Jack!” I pop the lid and inhale the sweet scent of caramel and cream. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!”

“Yeah, really. You didn’t have to do that,” Andrew says. “She’s had a more-than-healthy dose of that drug already today.”

“Decaf,” Jack whispers to Andrew.

“Boys, I’m hyped up on caffeine. I’m not deaf.”

Jack takes a swig of his drink and looks at Andrew. “What’s with the dressing up today?”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “You guys act like I never look nice!”

“Um. You don’t,” I say.

“Well, thank you, Maya, that’s very sweet.”

“It’s true,” I say, matter-of-factly. “You never look awful, but you don’t usually look this good.”

“I look good?” He straightens his already cracklingly straight
shirt. “Thanks,” he says, smiling.

I glance at Jack, who’s grinning behind his coffee cup. “Okay. Who’s the girl?”

Andrew physically brushes aside my question. “Don’t be ridiculous, Maya. Anyway, it’s time to start the study.” He leaves us and heads toward the front of the circle of chairs, sofas, and tables he created.