I wrote a little piece the other day, thinking back on a memory from my Freshman year in college. It was a brief interaction and I never really interacted with anyone here again but it was one of those moments that made me feel more at home in my new city and in my new life. Hope you enjoy!
I sat with my ankles crossed, feet tucked safely beneath my chair. I’d secured a prime spot at my favorite cafe and was proud of it. This table not only had an outlet but it also was nestled in a corner, the place I always felt safest.
Getting this spot had taken patience. And patience was not something I was good at, especially not as anxiety had begun sinking its claws in further.
But, I had done it. I’d waited on the nearby couch. Some people call that the prime spot in this café. They’re crazy. The coffee table, though cute, does not make for a great working surface, and when pairs come in to sip and chat, they often gravitate towards that area. But I’d waited patiently through the two women who’d sat down opposite me, drinks in hand, and told the other everything happening in their lives lately. I got to learn as well, though I tried desperately to not.
The back of my neck had crawled as I tried to ignore the constant presence of those sitting behind me. I’d kept waiting through the woman– a few years older than me– who came and sat down at the other end of my couch. But when she pulled out a laptop too, something in me eased a bit. She became my impromptu working partner for the next half hour, helping quiet the pounding of my heart but not easing it completely.
Just as new dread sunk in in the form of a small study group coming to replace the chatty pair of women, I saw it happen. A table opened up. A table with a charger cord, in a place where no one could sneak up behind me. I tried to be casual,– packing up my stuff neatly into my backpack– but my eyes kept darting towards that prize table. No one raced me for it. I moved, I saw my working partner glance once in my direction, but no one else even looked up. Success.
I dumped my stuff down, plugged in my laptop, and worked until the nerves settled back down deep into my stomach. I glanced at my now-empty coffee cup. I should buy something else ; I’d been here, using this space — this wifi — for a few hours. I looked around and saw just other people working in their own little bubbles. My stuff would be safe here for a few minutes, while I stood a few steps away ordering a muffin. So I did. While I was at it, I got a peppermint tea because why not. I needed something to wash down my snack.
The barista was nice. I think he could sense my discomfort warring with my desire to be out around fellow humans. He did the chatting, I soaked up the social interaction, and I smiled gratefully when he passed me my drink and muffin. I took them back to my seat– up a short staircase– and sank in, once again grateful for the walls behind me.
I worked for a while longer, taking breaks every few minutes to take another bite and another sip. Sometime after it was all gone, I couldn’t stare at the screen any longer. So I looked up and started to people-watch. There were always so many interesting people to look at. My working partner from earlier was gone, the study group had split and were each working quietly, a few business people sat at tables like mine each standing out in their professional clothes at this laid back cafe. Down the short staircase was the main body of the cafe. That’s where people came when they only wanted to stay a few minutes or if they wanted to chat and politely distanced themselves from this slightly elevated working area.
As I scanned and stared– probably impolitely– I caught the gaze of the kind barista. Had he been people watching too? I smiled a quick, closed-lip smile and I suddenly had the desire to get back to my work. As the work lulled me back into comfort, I looked up again and saw him staring once more. He looked away this time with a little smile on his lips. He turned and said something to his gorgeous coworker before turning to help a customer. My heart started pounding hard again, but for a different reason.
And so we danced. I worked and typed and sometimes glanced up. He’d sometimes catch my eye before twirling off to make another drink or heat a pastry. We’d sometimes miss the other’s attention when they were in the midst of something. But as I once again returned to my laptop screen, I felt a presence at my shoulder. I looked up.
“Hey, you a student here?”
“Yeah I just started at CMU.” The words slipped out of me, any social interaction abilities riding solely on autodrive as the warm cafe light danced in his eyes.
“That’s a great school, you must be smart then huh.”
I blushed further, if that was even possible, and found another reason to hate my naturally red-flushed face. “I’m lucky.”
He grinned. I tried not to admire the beanie he had on, wishing I had mine on too. “Could I give you my number?” he asked.
My stomach dropped down to the floor. That’s what he’d been whispering about with his gorgeous coworker. “Sure,” I managed, wishing I was eloquent or witty or cool.
He passed me a napkin, his number scrawled across it diagonally in slightly messy handwriting. The handwriting of someone who thinks faster than they can get the words down. I smiled. “I’ll text you.”
He sauntered off and I tried to get more work done. After failing miserably, I packed up and left, catching his gaze and smiling once more before going out into the cold street.
thoughtswords 