Page 1 of Holiday Hater

Chapter One - Silvia

“He’s cute.” A well-aimed elbow jabs my ribs as Deja watches the patrons lining up to get their coffee orders. She might want to actually start making their drinks that Luke, our other barista, is calling out to her.

I glance over my shoulder to follow her gaze and find myself glad that no one can see my face as I wince. “Don’t be ridiculous. He looks so young he could be in my daughter’s kindergarten class.”

“Oh my Lord, how old do you think you are? He’s in his early twenties!” She turns back to the coffee machine, finally starting to make coffees for the ever-growing line. I want to moan at her for not having been on them quicker, but she can knock the drinks out so fast I know the line won’t be held up.

“And I am in my late twenties. Which puts us in two different dating categories.” I can’t even begin to think about dating. Let alone dating a younger man.

“You’re kidding me, right? Did you not see the seventy-year-old man come in with the girlfriend young enough to still be in college? There aren’t any dating categories anymore! We’re in Bourbon City; the only thing that matters is pure physical attraction.” She winks as she suggestively wipes down the milk frother up and down. She uses her other hand to let the steam spurt in a perverted display of jacking it off.

“I think I need to add psychiatrist to the employee benefits.” I walk away before she can come back with a snappy remark and exit out from behind the counter to walk through the tables. This is the thousandth time I’ve done this in the last hour and I know there isn’t anything to do. However, it’s because there’s nothing to do that I find myself doing it.

It’s been too quiet today. Everyone has grabbed a quick coffee and ran out the door. My tables have stayed clean and empty. I wish it would get busy; I’m avoiding the mountain of admin work I need to do. I prefer to be cleaning tables, mopping floors, and making coffee before doing anything that involves a calculator and my laptop. More specifically a spreadsheet. They make me want to catapult my laptop off the roof of building.

I sit down on one of the two barstools that have reserved written on the back—mine and Lila’s seats for when we are in the shop.

“She’ll be back soon.” She voices my thoughts. “Do you want a coffee?” Deja leans on the counter across from me, her eyes trained on the door behind me. “He is one fine hunk of man.”

I pick up the napkin on the counter in front of me and dab at her mouth. “You’re drooling, love.”

She doesn’t even blink as her eyes follow him around the coffee shop. I don’t dare turn around for fear of attracting attention. “Deja.” When she doesn’t respond, I sneak a look behind me quickly but can’t find the source of her lust. “Deja, you’re creating a puddle on the floor and that is a health and safety hazard.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, I’m getting ya coffee.” Snapping out of it, she winks at me. She walks straight past the coffee machine to stand next to Luke as he takes the man who stole all of Deja’s brain functionality with good reason. He is attractive in a very obvious surfer boy way. Although looking at pretty guys, something we get to do all day in this coffee shop, never changes the firm belief that I’m not up to dating another man. Not after the last one. More than one lesson was learned from it because I came out of it having to completely rebuild my life from the ground up, and I had nine months to do it because I walked away pregnant. Now here I am a single mom, with a daughter whose daddy doesn’t want to know her and some very big boots to fill as a result of it. I’m far too busy running the coffee shop and being Lila’s mommy and daddy to be going out on bad dates again. I’m going to have to watch Nat Geo Wild to remember how sex works.

Going out and having to face what would probably be one bad date after another is just too much to bear. I’d rather go home and pretend I’m a nun. As far as my mind is concerned, sex only exists in romance books, which I consume on the daily. I don’t need a real boyfriend when I have a thousand book boyfriends on my Kindle.

“You’ve got the grumpy, broody, and I’m going to rip off the face of the next person to talk to me look again. That’s not going to encourage patrons to stay and eat cake.” Deja puts the coffee down in front of me, seemly guilty about making me wait.

“I’m just saying the reasons I’m never going to date again speech to myself again.”

“That’s a very stupid speech. I think you should just grab this dating anxiety by the horns and ride it. There are plenty of bulls parading in and out of those glass doors for you to try it with.”

“Mommy! Mommy! Look what I made!” Before I can turn to find the face that goes with the sweet and angelic voice of my daughter, a picture is shoved in front of my face. It’s bright and colourful and vaguely resembles two building block towers with eyes and smiles. “It’s you and me! We did lots of things about family today. And so I painted us.”

As if I’m not feeling bad enough about everything, the mention of our little family and her having to draw a picture without a father pulls at the strings of my heart, threatening to unravel it. They said the guilt would fade, but it hasn’t. I failed to give my daughter a decent father and I can’t help but blame myself for that almost every day.

“Did you have fun?” I don’t know how to ask my seven-year-old how she felt being asked about her nonexistent daddy. I look toward the door and wave at Liane. She walks past the coffee shop to get home with her daughter every day, and she's kind enough to walk Lila back for me. Obviously, kindness comes at a price and it isn't without giving her a hearty tip every week and unlimited free coffee.

“Yeah, I love painting you and me!” She pulls herself up onto her stool and grins when her attention turns to Deja. “Can I please have a hot chocolate, De?”

I flatten the creases out from Lila’s tight grasp on the sheet of paper. This is going to go on the wall.

“What are you doing?” I listen to Lila talk to Deja as I move behind the counter to put Lila’s picture up on the wall of pictures drawn by the kids that come in and take advantage of our large selection of crayons.

“I’m trying to find your mommy a boyfriend. Do you want to help me?”

“Oh my God, will you shut up!” I wish Lila wasn’t watching so I could throw the cold milk in the frother jug at her.

“Mommy! You said a bad word!” I can’t argue with her angry little face. I have very firm rules in our house and saying shut up to someone is against the rules. It’s rude and I didn’t want her going to school saying that.

“I’m sorry, I’ll put a dollar in the jar.” I glare at Deja as she grins gloatingly at me from a safe distance.

Chapter Two - Noah

I like working with my hands. I like doing whatever job I can get the opportunity to do that will cover the bills. This month they aren't overwhelming since I’m sleeping on my friend’s sofa. When your occupation consistently stays inconsistent, getting secure rentals can be very difficult. After the tenancy ended at the last one, I had to start bunking on friends’ sofas because I didn’t find another rental that would accept me before I had to vacate. So now I need a job that is a contract and reliable so that I can prove, despite having paid my rent securely for years, that I will continue to do so with the guaranteed income.

As jobs go, pool cleaning isn’t bad. The complex is the nicest one around—quiet, respectful, and filled with attractive women. What’s not to like about the job? Except that the only time I can fit in doing the clean is at night, once I’ve done my other day jobs. Oliver, who is the handyman around here, got me the job.

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