What would you do-what if there was a man sleeping in your coffee? What if you found out you really liked him-read more…
It’s been 3 months. The manager of the café was relatively uninjured by the chair incident. Just a sprain, not a break. Some bruising. A torn shirt. And the tie pulled fast around his neck so he couldn’t speak for a week. Squeezed his vocal chords or something. I read it in the local paper. I guess she really rammed that chair into him.
The café is open again now although I haven’t been in there or even past it.
Also apparently the local paper said one of the customers was bumped and spilled her coffee in the confusion. She is suing. Him not us. The café may have to close again. And all because they wouldn’t sell me a cup. I don’t blame myself. Only one ambulance was called so it can’t have been that bad.
They haven’t been able to trace me. Mental note-always use cash. My own theory is they don’t want to trace me. Because I could sue! There was a man sleeping in my coffee- and I did not O-R-D-E-R that. There ought to be some compensation for the trauma!
Actually it has turned out well though so I have let it go. People say its not normal, but what is normal? I don’t care anyway. People say I have been behaving ‘erratically’. This is my third job since it happened. I sofa surfed for a bit and then moved to this new flat.
My parents have paid a lot of the bills. They aren’t really sure. Nonetheless they have gone vegan in support. I have given up cappuccinos. Something I once thought unthinkable but now I know that people sleep in them I can’t drink them anymore. Seriously look at your coffee next time-be sure.
He lives here now. He is with me most of the time. We get on. We are friends. I am not going to lie, I hope for something more. Its just the ‘how’ that is problematic.
He is a great guy. I know what you’re thinking. He sleeps in coffee cups-how great can he be? Well I say-who are you to judge? I bet you’ve slept in some dodgy places? Right? Yeh!
I’ve read Tom Thumb several times over and Thumbelina so I know what I am up for. I have informed myself. I know this is not a fairy tale, but what modern romance is. I know we can’t reproduce but he is the first person I really feel a connection too. Even though he’s basically dairy.
My friend and as I said last time, we don’t speak. She can’t give up cappuccinos. She had to give a statement for the police about the theft. It was just a cup! And I tried to buy it, but ultimately I was committing a crime for the higher purpose of saving a sleeping man.
Apparently it was one of the first cups the café ever bought. I have kept it anyway. Its now his permanent bed. Its on my dresser- by my bed.
My friend was charged with assault but her Mum is a judge. She got it thrown out so its all good. She just isn’t speaking to me, because apparently she is banned in every coffee shop within walking distance of a tube stop. Café owners-they stick together. Who knew, like some sort of caffeine mafia. Probably I am banned as well but I just do herbal tea these days.
Anyway my friend covered for me. She didn’t really give full details of what she’d said. It was quite a brief conversation. She doesn’t understand but I know I can never repay her. Sometimes its how friendships end.
How did he come to be sleeping in my coffee? Well he wasn’t born there. He was just travelling through and needed a rest. It’s more common than you think-apparently-but there’s still not a web page.
My parents are worried. No one wants their daughter to settle down with somebody who sleeps in other people’s hot drinks. I’ve lost friends over it. He is no good at parties although he can command a dinner table when the time is right-but it has to be vegan. It’s not polite to eat someone else’s bedding. Even the internet must agree with that.
He has relatives and he might introduce me. Maybe in the summer. He doesn’t do well in the summer. He dries out. We plan to spend it indoors.
I know you are thinking what everyone else is thinking-it’s a hopeless situation. But I care a lot about him and I think he cares about me. He is easily the best date I ever had.
Every so often someone sits me down and tries to talk sense to me. But there’s no point. This is my life and my decision. Up until now he has been mostly transient but we have plans. We can travel together. He has literally no baggage. And I can take a cup almost anywhere.
We want to go and live in the country. Near some cows. A paddock of cows is like his spiritual home. He is tired of the city with its posh coffees and hipster décor. He was moving to the country when we met actually, it’s just that it takes a long time to move through the city when you are an inch tall.
Now I think if I can keep this job for a bit, I can save for a bit. We can live happily in a cottage near a farm. I will probably get chickens. But we won’t be eating the eggs. Maybe some bees, but mostly we will live near cows.
Everybody will come around eventually I think. I think they will all come to see that I am happy and this is right for me.
Next week:
And then one morning I woke up and he. He was gone.
A Tuesday Latte 