I shook my head. “Now you gassing it to make me feel better. It’s cool though.” I turned my head to kiss her forearm. “You can turn the machine off. I think I’m just about done.”
Walking around me, she turned it off, and the bowl stopped spinning. “Now, we gotta carve your signature into it.”
“Aight.” I put my initials underneath the bowl and set it to the side.
Getting up from the stool I sat on, I walked over to the portable sink she had set up.
“How’s everything coming along at the new property? You think about the wall art I mentioned to you?”
“It’s a project, but I’m up for the task. And yes, I found the perfect spot for you to come and do your thing.”
As a creative, Ju had her hand in many things. One of them was painting. She was an independent contractor and did a lot of work in different homes and commercial establishments. People were often sold on her personality alone, so she stayed booked. When she didn’t have any jobs on the books, I’d walk her through flips to see if there were any special touches she could add to the walls to bring the spaces to life. And whether it was a simple accent wall or a custom paint job, she always executed the vision.
Unlike Karima, whose world was structured by calendars, the latest fashion, and whatever ideas revolved around her, Julissa thrived on her love for creating. The way her eyes lit up when shewas starting something new was the complete opposite from the woman I’d met a year and a half ago whose eyes held pain that she tried to suppress with a smile.
“I’m at work, Walt. I will come and get my stuff as soon as I leave. Please do not put my things out.”
I heard a hushed voice plead as I exited the bathroom at New Blends coffeehouse. It was packed just like any other Monday morning, but I couldn’t let it deter me from my Brown Sugar Shaken espresso with coconut cream, oat milk, and caramel drizzle. My mother had introduced me to the drink, and I’d made it a staple in my week at least three times.
The door swung closed, and I could see a woman standing at the back exit cradling a phone to her ear. We locked eyes briefly before she averted her gaze, focusing back on the call. I didn’t know what it was, but something in me said to take my time walking back to the front.
“I’ll be there right after my shift.”She spoke again before I heard her steps in my direction. “Excuse me, sir,” she managed to get out, and I stepped aside, allowing her to pass.
She walked behind the counter and over to the register. I watched the baristas move like clockwork, taking orders, calling them out, then preparing them. Everything was synchronized, which was one of the things besides their coffee that put them above a Starbucks or Dunkin chain. The baristas at New Blends moved with precision and care. I waited patiently before reaching the front of the line where she stood at the register.
“Good morning. What can I…” Her voice got caught, and her eyes closed briefly, like she was composing herself.
Clearing her throat, she went to speak again. This time, her words were accompanied by a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, which were red around the edges. It was obvious that shehad been crying, but it hadn’t taken away from her natural beauty.
“What can I get you today?” she asked in the most welcoming tone she could muster up.
It was clear to anyone with eyes that she was performing happiness rather than feeling it.
“I’ll have whatever you usually have to brighten up your morning.”
“I think it’s too early for a Tequila Sunrise.” She flashed a small smile that actually seemed genuine. “Besides, we don’t make those here anyway.”
“Okay. Then, let’s do this. You take my regular coffee order then let me take you out to get that Tequila Sunrise.”
She looked down then back up at me, tucking one of her locs behind her ear. “I have to take your order before this line gets long again.”
I ran down my order, and she rang me up. After paying, I stepped to the side and waited for my coffee. I left that day, glad that I had put a smile on her face and found myself there the rest of the week to do it again. By the time Friday rolled around, I convinced her to give me her number and let me take her out for that drink. She did, and time did the rest of the job.
“If you scrub your hands any longer, you might scrub the skin off, baby.”
Ju’s voice pulled me back to the present. I laughed, turning off the water and taking the paper towel she held out to me.
“You were in deep thought.”
“I was.”
She smiled, taking my place in front of the sink. “Happy thoughts, I hope.”
“I was thinking about when we first met.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed the nape of her neck.
“Ohh, noo,” she groaned. “That wasn’t a happy time.”
“So, meeting a nigga didn’t make you happy? I’m crushed, Ju.”
