He turns to me. “Did this happen to you, too?” His trim beard is crinkling up against his smile, his eyes are glowing blue.
“Something like that.”
He turns to the clerk and expresses his well-wishes to the next customer. We walk together toward the pick-up counter, chatting.
“I had such a great time the other night.” There’s almost a bounce to his step when he speaks, a flash in his eyes. “I’m really glad you came.”
“I had a lot of fun.” I smile. “Who’d have thought that a bunch of engineers could be so much fun.”
“You and I should get together and hang out sometime? Just go have some laughs. Maybe a Saturday morning or something?” he says, his eyes are almost giddy with anticipation.
“Sure,” I find myself saying. “Or something.”
“I’ll text you then. It’ll be great.” His gaze locks on me. “I really think you’re a great guy, Liam.”
We stand staring at each other, I feel my pulse quicken, then suddenly we hear his name being called as a cup is slid across the counter toward him. He looks away.
“That would be nice,” I say. “I look forward to it.” I hear myself saying the words, but what shocks me the most is the sincerity of my tone. My face flushes and I have a strong urge to grab him and hold on somehow, so I throw my hand out for a handshake, which he grabs. It electrifies me in a way I can’t compute and I smile. I think he does most of the shaking.
We part hands and he raises his cup at me like a toast. “I’ll text you then.”
“I’ll look for it,” I say, my eyes drawn to the empty cup in my hand. I head toward the door, waving a small goodbye as I sneak out.
The next coffee house I come to is busy. I’m fifth in line and the line is building up behind me. I’ve decided not to make it awkward. I smile and make small talk with people around me. When I get to the register, I order some kind of haughty iced tea with antioxidants, overpay, and then speak quietly when I ask the clerk to apply the change to the customer behind me. The clerk understands my meaning, and smiles quickly.
As I wait for my drink, it’s clear there’s no hiding when the guy behind me arrives at the cashier, orders, listens, and then turns to me with a nod and a “thanks.” I’m moved that all the other indicators are present: the focus shift, the body posture, the active presence. But, the smile and kind words make it feel so grounded. Like we’re real people and not part of some theoretical system. It’s not awkward. It’s also not self-gratifying. It’s just simple humanity at its finest and messiest.
As the day progresses, I make my way to several more coffee shops in town and order only water, but leave cash for the next customer. I’m so past the I’m-afraid-to-feel-awkward phase, can’t possibly drink any more coffee, and I know what I want, so I just make it happen.
Later in the afternoon, I’m ready to brave more caffeine, and decide that my pay-it-forward day needs to wrap up in a finalorder of my usual. I’m at Harold’s Coffee in downtown, near Brick Street, and I decide that I’m going to buy a coffee, relax on their patio and just absorb the rest of the day. I discover that after a full day of talking to cashiers, I have a new appreciation for all things coffee-house related, and spend more time than usual making small talk with the clerk, smiling and laughing like we’re old friends.
I order my flat white when it happens: “Your coffee order has already been paid for,” the cashier tells me.
I’m stunned. I stand erect, looking around the room quickly, then back again. I can’t move and I have no words. I think I’m trying to fumble for my wallet, and conjure up a reply, but mostly I’m just mouth breathing.
“The customer before you,” she says, “just wanted to wish you well!”
My mind spirals.
I stumble through enough words to explain that I don’t want to break the chain, and I’m still paying for the next customer. It feels like the clerk has been doing this awhile and knows what to do, which makes things easier. And hopeful!
I shuffle over to the counter to wait, my mind is a blur.
I haven’t been to Brick Street today, so this is not my doing. This must be the work of my secret person, in this coffee house today, somewhere in the chain of paying-it-forward. I can’t help but wonder how far away on that chain we are. Is my secret person in the room? Or, did this chain start early this morning? I had wondered if this could possibly happen today, and now I can’t fully process it. I feel a strange warmth pulsing through my body as my name is called, the next customer happens to nod and thank me, and I find a quiet seat on the patio with my coffee.
I can’t stop smiling.
I’m savoring every sip, because this happens to be the best coffee I’ve had all day. I’m also wondering: Did I buy a cup of coffee for my secret person today, too? The thought is too immense for my brain, and I just enjoy the moment of wonder.
I find myself wishing for Martin, and wondering if he happened to receive a paid-for coffee today?
I genuinely hope so.
My mind is spinning with wonder and wishing when something occurs to me, something that floors me: I’ve spent the whole day drinking coffee all by myself. Totally alone. Just me and my cup.
Sure, I’ve had the opportunity to watch others experience the moment where they feel appreciated and human, but on a real level, I shared this day with no one.
I feel suddenly heavy, like my shoulders weigh a million pounds, like if I lean too hard on this table, the metal will crumple. My heart bounces around inside my chest and a surge of heat rises behind my eyes.
