Page 46 of Love Resurrected
“What?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me what it is,” I say.
“Whatwhatis? My coffee order?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Now I’m curious.” A half-smile creeps over my face.
“Okay. But no judging.” She blushes slightly. “It’s got to be the largest size they have, sugar-free vanilla latte, breve, extra shot of espresso, and a dash of cinnamon.”
“That’s quite a coffee,” I tell her.
“I know. I can’t help it. I’ve tried others, it’s just not the same. I never tire of it. It’s what I was drinking this morning when I got to the hospital.”
“You make that at home?” I ask.
“Oh, gosh no. At home, I just have half-and-half, a teaspoon of honey, and a dash of cinnamon.”
“So, it’s only when you go out?” I confirm.
She nods.
“And you thought they could make that here?” I gesture to the restaurant because surely she can tell this is not a specialty coffee kind of establishment, with its Formica tables, hard orange booths, and flowered wallpaper.
“Can’t hurt to ask,” she says.
I nod once in response and look down at my menu.
“Here you go.” Rita is back with two cups of black coffee and a small carafe of creamer, a bowl filled with little cups of flavored creamer, sugar dispenser, assorted packets of sugar substitutes, and a small bear-shaped container of honey. “This is all I’ve got back there, sweetie. Hopefully, one of these will work.” She winks at Tenley. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”
Tenley blushes as she thanks Rita, then doctors her coffee with three of the small flavored creamers, a generous pour from the carafe, and a hefty squeeze from the honey bear. I watch as her coffee goes from black to a light, milky tan color. She brings it to her mouth to take a sip, then smiles big. “Oh, that’s good.”
I’ve yet to take a sip of mine. Something makes me want to try hers.
“Can I try it?” I ask, before I think too hard on it.
She slides her mug across the small table toward me, then watches as I take a drink. It tastes like lukewarm watered-down over-sweetened coffee. I shudder and push the mug back to her. “That’s disgusting.”
She points to my mug. “No, that is.”
I lift the black coffee to my lips and inhale the nutty fragrance. I take a large drink. It’s hot, strong, and delicious. “I’ve drunk mine black for as long as I can remember. My dad used to tell me it would put hair on my chest.”
“And I would want that, why?” She gestures to hers and I make the mistake of looking. Her t-shirt is tight and a tad on the sheer side. I can see the lacy bra she’s wearing beneath it and it stirs something in me. A glimmer of interest. I swear her nipples peak under my gaze. I look away and back to my coffee.
Nessa’s words run through my mind, about living beyond the grief being a necessary evil. I allow myself to wonder for a moment about a life after Kat. A life worth living. With someone like Tenley. But just as quickly as the moment flashes before me, I squash it. I get where Nessa is coming from, and I understand that she’s just trying to be helpful. Maybe moving on worked for her, but deep down, I know that it’s not for me. Happiness does not have a place in my future. My fate was sealed when Kat drew her last breath.
Tenley puts her menu down and picks up her mug, holding it close to her face as though trying to absorb the warmth. “Do you know what you’re going to order?”
“Banana pancakes, home fries, bacon,” I say. “You?”
“How’s the French toast?”
“Don’t know. Never had it.”
“Hmmm. What about the veggie scramble?”
