Janie looked at the café, a beacon of light and life on the otherwise dark and quiet street. Every seat she could see wasfull: a group of young people were huddled over their laptops, an elderly man sat in the window seat with a newspaper spread across his small table, and a young woman with more piercings than Janie could count was engaged in animated conversation with another woman who could easily have been Maria’s sister. The connection between the seeminglyunconnected people was almost tangible, like colored cosmic string joining them all together. So many people sharing a moment, sharing this special place. “It looks busy,” she said quietly and moved her hand toward the start button.
Maria wrapped her cool hand around Janie’s, and she squeezed gently. “You came all this way forsomething,” she said.
Janie sighed deeply and dropped her hand. “I did?”
Maria nodded, and her eyes sparkled. “A special treat. Come on.”
Janie didn’t know what she’d come for, but it definitely wasn’t that. She got out of the car anyway and once again noticed Maria didn’t close her door until Janie joined her on the sidewalk. “Did you think I’d bolt?” she asked, her mood lightening as she enjoyed the easy repetition of their first meeting.
Maria wiggled her hand from side to side, then laughed in that same honeyed way that had set Janie so at ease before. She hooked her arm in Janie’s and tugged her toward the café.
Last time, Janie hadn’t noticed the chime above the door that welcomed them with a cheerful metal tinkling. It seemed so old-fashioned but suited the place perfectly. The warm air, scented with freshly baked pastries and strong coffee, hit her nostrils, and she relaxed a little more.
“Janie! We hoped you would come back.” Mirta came from around the counter and wrapped her arms around Janie.
She stiffened a little at the uninvited contact, and Mirta’s embrace grew tighter in response, like a human swaddling blanket. Janie’s body uncoiled without her permission, allowing her to take comfort from the unexpected gesture. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her this long, anddespite herself, she didn’t pull away. Hannah used to, but things had changed since the triplets had come along.
“Let the poor girl go, Mirta,” Maria said. “She’s come for something sweet, not an awkward hug with a sour viejita.”
Mirta released Janie slowly and smiled. “Paja! I’m not atotalstranger. And I’m not the one who jumped in her car like a vieja loca.” She wrinkled her nose toward Maria before taking Janie’s hand to lead her to the only empty table. “I’ll be right back with just what you need.”
“Thank you,” Janie said, doubting it, but she smiled anyway, not wanting to reject their kindness or upset either of them. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to burst whatever bubble of unreality she’d been absorbed into. However alien this situation was, she didn’t want it to end. Surrounded by all these strangers, most of whom had looked up and smiled, every inch of difference marked her out, and yet… Being among them, especially Maria and Mirta, sent a flicker of something dangerously close to relief through her.
Maria took the seat opposite her, looking at Janie in a way that made her want to sob and shrink away. The deep knowing in her brown eyes was intimidating but comforting, like there was nothing she hadn’t seen before, like nothing could shock her or spur her to hasty judgment.
“How have you been?” Maria asked, her soothing voice somehow lowering Janie’s internal volume.
Janie sifted through the detritus of her week. Client meetings. Court appointments. The disastrous night out when she’d publicly destroyed a colleague. And then there was the grinding ache of missing her children, her wife, and the life she’d dismantled with her own hands. “Fine,” she said, hearing it sound as flat and hollow as she felt inside.
The door chime drew her attention away from Maria’s inquisitive gaze, and a group of five young men came in, loud and energetic. Janie didn’t want to react the way she did, fear zipping through her like a lightning strike, and she hated herselffor it on so many levels. The fact that she wasn’t alone and that there were at least thirty people around her should’ve provided some safety, but it didn’t. Thirty people were useless against the potential of five guns. And she knew of so many horror stories, so many women powerless in the face of male entitlement.
She became aware of Maria’s hand on her forearm, and her heartbeat slowed slightly.
“Relax, patoja.”
Heat flushed Janie’s neck and face, mortified that Maria had registered her discomfort. The guys were clearly local and had far more right to be there than she did. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, hating the years of learned dread. No matter how formidable she was in a courtroom, out on the street that counted for nothing.
“Don’t worry.”
Janie twirled her wedding ring and tried to concentrate on its solidity beneath her fingers instead of monitoring the men in her peripheral vision. Once again, she noted that no payment was made. If this had been her first time here, she would’ve assumed some nefarious activity, such as gang members providing protection to the café in exchange for cash and unlimited coffee. Criminals needed caffeinating as much as the next person. But she hadn’t seen any money or card transactions on her last visit either. “I’ve never seen a café operate an ongoing credit policy,” she said, unable and perhaps unwilling to suppress her interest in discovering more about the enigmatic Maria and her adorable café.
Maria chuckled. Her soft wrinkles deepened, and her eyes sparkled mischievously, belying her age. “Is that what you think is happening here?”
Janie bit her bottom lip and frowned. “Isn’t it?” The possibility that the place might be a front for a drug cartel disappeared almost as quickly as it had popped into her head.That would require money to be crossing the counter, idiot.
“Some things should not be for sale. A great cup of coffee, a safe haven, a little community. These things should be availableto all.”
Perfectly on cue, Mirta returned with a tray of coffee and pastries for two. “Torrejas,” she said after she’d clearly recognized Janie’s furrowed brow. “Be prepared; the flavors will fire in your mouth.”
“Explode,” Maria said, shaking her head. “The flavors will explode.”
Mirta rolled her eyes. “My word is better.” She walked away before Maria could dispense another language lesson and whispered something in one of the young guy’s ears. He grinned widely and dipped his head, in obvious reverence.
Janie frowned at her lack of understanding and looked again at what seemed like a gooey bread pudding. “I bet that dish has all my sugar intake for a week.”
Maria waved her hand. “Paja! Dessert is good for the soul.” She picked up a spoon and offered it to Janie. “Eat.”
Janie took the utensil and scooped a little of the torrejas into her mouth. The hits of cinnamon, orange, and clove did fire in her mouth, and it tasted divine. “Damn, that’s good.” She munched another couple of bites, wanting to enjoy it while it was hot. But the sweet treat didn’t deter her query. “How can you keep this place open with that concept?” she asked, staring at the steam rising from her mug instead of focusing on Maria. It all seemed so risky and open-ended, so utterly foreign to her own existence.
