I know they think I’m hilariously boring, but I hadn’t realized how predictable my life had gotten until that conversation. It’s not like I set out to live a boring life, but I can’t deny that I like to feel as though things are within my control, otherwise I spiral. It’s kind of scary what happens when I feel overwhelmed, despite all the work I’ve done to manage my anxiety. This is why I don’t take risks; I can’t be certain of the outcome. The only place I’m prepared to take risks is in board games, which I’ve loved playing for years. Just as well I didn’t tell Steph’s friendsthat.
By morning I’ve hardly slept. I rub my bleary eyes, reaching for my phone to silence the alarm. There’s an email from Alex and I unlock my phone to read it, shocked to find she’s suggesting I get on a flight in two days.
Two days.
Fuck. I know she asked if I could come soon, but that’s alotsooner than I was thinking.
Nerves tumble through my belly as I shower and dress for the day. I always follow the same basic routine: moisturizer with SPF30+, a light brush of bronzer to warm up my pale complexion, a swipe of mascara, and my long brown hair pulled up into a tidy bun. I slip on my glasses—black, with a subtle cat-eye shape—and wander back into my room to pack my bag for work. First thing in is my current read—I’m rereading the entireHarry Potterseries for the millionth time and I’m currently onThe Chamber of Secrets—to enjoy during my break. I pull on my daily “uniform” of slim-fitting jeans and a plain black T-shirt, and pop tiny gold studs in my ears.
I try to forget about Alex’s email as I head off to work, walking the ten minutes it takes to get to the cafe from our flat. Our town is small, sort of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it small, a few hours out of Auckland. You can walk anywhere in town within fifteen minutes.
Arriving at work, I push the glass door open. I’m greeted by the familiar smell of roasting coffee beans and it perks me up. I’ve worked here since I was eighteen, splitting my time between barista and waitress, and I love it. We roast our own coffee, which is fun. The regular customers are lovely, and my boss, Paula, is the best. She’s owned the cafe for years and creates the most amazing baked goods, always coming up with new ideas. She’s one of the friendliest people I’ve ever known—almost like a second mum to me, except one I can talk about sex with. You know, if I had much sex.
I drop my bag behind the counter and tie on my apron, looking around the empty space. Sometimes I dream about opening my own cafe, but with a unique twist: a board game cafe. Great big shelves, heaving with every game you can imagine, line the walls. The counters are stuffed with yummy treats and my own brand of coffee, and the air is rich with the scent of cinnamon and croissants. The tables are set up so you can grab a coffee and spend hours getting lost in a game ofScrabbleorSettlers of CatanorUno, with friends or alone. That’s what makes it so cool; it’s like an introvert’s paradise.
On really slow days, I sketch on a napkin I keep in my bag. It started with a simple floor plan, but now there’s a list of games I’d love to have, ideas for themed games nights, and even notes on the decor—a warm, golden yellow on the walls, dark-stained hardwood floors, and cozy leather sofas.
But, whatever. I haven’t given it a lot of thought. Would it be amazing to create this magical space? Sure. Is it really practical? Probably not. In fact, I should probably throw that napkin away.
“Hey chick, how are you?” Paula appears from the kitchen and turns on the coffee machine. On the counter beside her is a plate of her trademark vegan brownies. I’m not a vegan but she does the best vegan baking, and while I’d usually be dying to have one, I can’t stomach the thought right now.
“Good. Um…” I smooth my moist palms over my apron. May as well talk to Paula about this now, though I’m sure she won’t be able to give me several weeks off at such short notice. Part of me is already relieved. I want to be there for Alex, but the thought of getting on a flight in two days feels too soon. We’ll have to figure out a compromise.
“What’s up?”
“Alex called last night. She was a little unhappy.” I decide not to mention the part about Mum, given Paula knows her well. “We got to talking, and…” I swallow, willing myself to say the words. “I ended up agreeing to fly to New York for her wedding.”
Paula’s eyes light up. “Oh, wow! That’s fantastic!”
My pulse jumps. She is alotmore excited about this than I anticipated. “Right. I wanted to make sure you were okay with it, because I know this is last minute.”
“Absolutely! When are you thinking of going?”
“Oh, well…” I emit an awkward laugh. “She sent me an email with a flight in two days time, but I know—”
“Okay,” Paula says, and my mouth opens in surprise.
“Okay?”
“Yep. I can move some shifts around on the roster. We’ll manage without you.”
“Good to know I’m so valued here,” I say wryly, and she laughs.
“Of course you are. But come on, wouldn’t you rather be getting on a plane to New York than wiping down tables here?”
No, I want to say, but it’s too bloody late now.
“I know I would,” she adds with a chuckle. “If you go sooner, you’ll have more time away to see your sister and explore the city. Think of all the sightseeing you can do!”
A cold sweat prickles along my brow at those words again. “Are you sure?” I ask, making one last-ditch attempt to get out of this. My stomach is churning and I’m starting to feel itchy. “Because I don’t have to—”
“Totally sure.” She gives me a gentle pat on the arm. “I think this will be good for you, chick. I can’t remember when you last took time off. You could use a little more excitement in your life.”
I frown, thinking again about Steph and her friends’ words from last night. Doeseveryonethink I’m boring?
“You should head home now to get your visa sorted and pack,” Paula says, handing me my bag and waving me towards the door. “I’ll cover your shift for the day.”
“Oh, um, okay,” I mumble, untying my apron. This did not go at all how I expected. “Well… thanks.”
