I lace up my sneakers and sling my purse over my shoulder, then I head over to Starbucks. It’s cloudy but warm, and the air by the water smells remarkably of low tide today. Thoughts of Colin pop up like Whac-A-Mole in my brain. I picture him considering how going to talk to Lindsay might help me.Whack.I think about his shirtless body bringing me coffee.Whack.I remember the look on his face the first time he saw me outside my building.Whack, whack, whack.
Thinking about how our situation got so royally fucked up is not going to help me. I try to put it out of my head as I enter the Starbucks, greeted by the aroma of roasted Arabica beans that wafts up into my nostrils.
A hip young girl in a green apron wears a wide grin and several facial piercings. Her head is shaved on one side, and the hair that remains flops across her scalp.
She sounds remarkably professional when she speaks, despite being nineteen years old at best. “Welcome to Starbucks! What can I get for you today?”
A fresh start?I wonder.A new chance at life?“A grande caramel Frappuccino, please,” I say.
She types my order into the register. “You got it. Anything else?”
I remember why I came. “Um, yes. I’d like to drop off this job application.” I hand the application, folded and tucked neatly into a business-size envelope, over to Hip Barista Girl.
“Sweet,” she says, tucking it into her apron. “I’ll get it to Bess. She’s the manager. She’ll give you a call once she looks it over.”
I nod, looking longingly at her for answers. “Can I ask you something?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
“Do you like it here?”
She laughs. “I mean, it gets the job done, you know? Free drinks, a free meal, good benefits, and some spending cash. The people who work here are chill. Customers vary.” She smiles. “Some are cool, but some are pretty pretentious. I feel like if you get their drinks right and you’re friendly though, it’s all good.”
“Are you in school?”
“Yeah. I go to Kingsborough.”
Kingsborough Community College is on the easternmost tip of Manhattan Beach. It’s an odd location for a school, but the campus is nice, and the views of the water are great, considering it’s in Brooklyn.
“Are most of the people who work here so…?”
“Smart? Funny? Put together?” She laughs.
“I was going to say ‘young.’” I smile.
“Not everyone. But there are quite a few students.”
“Cool,” I say, although in my mind, this is the furthest thing from cool. “I’m Grace.” I hold out my hand.
She shakes it. “Sabrina,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” I say. Three young moms with strollers get in line behind me. I move down to the other end of the counter and wait for my drink.
Back outside, I feel a strange mix of hope and defeat. The sugar and caffeine help me feel a little better physically, but emotionally, I’m all over the map. I’m proud of myself for coming to terms with the notion that I am going to need a job that can help me pay bills, even though I hate the fact that I am an author whose royalty checks make welfare payments seem generous by comparison. I’m also still in complete denial that I’m agentless, that theReckless Outlawdeal is almost 100% no more, and that Colin and I are a thing of the past. These thoughts occupy mymind as I wander over the footbridge and down to the beach, carefulnotto walk past Mrs. A’s house. My stomach is still lamenting yesterday’s poor choices; there’s no way I can handle a heavy meal (no matter how well-intentioned) right now.
On the beach, I sit crisscross applesauce a few feet back from the shore. Staring out at the horizon, I watch the birds dance across the surface of the water and the boats speed by in the distance. I try to focus on my breathing, the way Kiki does in yoga. Before too long, I feel safe. Like if I sit quietly enough, nobody will ever find me here.
“Yoo hoo!” I hear.
I turn, already knowing what fate awaits me.
“You have no chair today?” Mrs. A asks me.
“No,” I shake my head. “Just me and the sand.”
“Come,” she says. “You come sit on bench with me and Olga.”
“Who’s Olga?” I ask.
