Cam
Yes
What’s your favorite book?
I don’t even hesitate.
Me
Maestro by Auden Dar
Cam
Never heard of it
Me
I should spank you for that
I couldn’t help myself.
Cam
You’ll have to tell me all about it when I get back
Whether he’s trying to guarantee we see each other when he returns or not, there’s no way I can resist talking about my favorite book.
Me
You may change your mind once I get started. I could talk about it for hours. Days, maybe. How long do you have?
Cam
For you? All the time in the world
31
Josefine
It turnsout Iris knows more than just the secret menu at the Black Hole. After making small talk and learning that I’m a writer, she introduces me to her fellow barista, Ari, who invites me to tag along to a six-week creative writing workshop that begins tonight. I’m terribly jet-lagged and want nothing more than to sleep for a solid week, but when Ari mentions there’s only one spot left, I seize the opportunity.
With a cup of Winnie the Pooh (honey latte with condensed milk), my AirPods in, and my favorite “Get Shit Done” playlist cued up, I reply to every email I received while on vacation and even complete a project I left unfinished before Greece. Then I head back to the apartment to freshen up.
At a quarter till five, I meet Ari outside the Black Hole.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” I warble when the adorable man hands me a to-go cup of coffee.
By the time the bus spits us out in front of the arts and education building in West Harlem, I’m well versed in Ari’s life story. The small-framed man, also twenty-three, looks like TimothéeChalamet, with his mop of black hair, sharp cheekbones, prominent jaw, and crystal-blue eyes.
He grew up on Long Island with his Jewish-Italian family, but like me, he moved to the city last year. We instantly bonded over our Jewish dads. He works at the Black Hole part time to supplement his income as a social media manager.
“You’re going to love Talulah!” Ari trills, taking and tossing my empty coffee cup by the door.
Talulah, I learned on the ride over, is our instructor. She’s also Ari’s grandmother.
The classroom he leads me to smells earthy, and the walls are covered in paintings. A handful of people are already seated, with a mix of notebooks and laptops scattered across tabletops.
I settle into a navy blue plastic seat like the ones from school, and suddenly, I’m hit with memories of a high school English class.
