You can talk with someone for years, every day, and still, it won’t mean as much as what you can have when you sit in front of someone, not saying a word, yet you feel that person with your heart, you feel like you have known the person for forever…. connections are made with the heart, not the tongue.
Sailor comes into the Caffination Factory every day now. Since the last part, a lot of time has passed.
That first month, she started coming less, then she was there waiting. She didn't have to wait long. A guy who shorter than me, but taller than her came in. He was Korean, with hazel eyes and dark caramel hair. He was attractive and seemed to be like the kind of guy who had experience in what I most definitely could not give Sailor right away; romance. He smoothly started a conversation and kept it going, making her laugh as often as he could. When I could, I looked over. When she laughs, her tongue pokes out of her teeth and it is definitely one of her cutest qualities. However, I couldn't marvel at it, or even enjoy how adorable she looked like that. I wanted to be the cause of that kind of smile. I wanted to be the one she gifted that smile too. But I'm not. I've never spoken to her unless it was the brief talks we had when she came by to tip me or something.
The guy came with her every day but Fridays. Slowly, they start holding hands, then his arm is around her shoulders. Then he's ordering both his and her drink under his name - Astin. Fucking Astin.
Months passed, they shared kisses, secrets veiled by quiet laughter. They made memories I wanted to have. I wanted to have with her. But then I noticed things. She looked less like herself unless it was Friday. She stopped wearing her beanie unless it was Friday. She didn't wear as unique clothing or have that twinkle. She didn't have a musical rhythm to her step unless it was Friday, and she almost never showed a real smile unless it was Friday.
In the past, it had been her making my days better. Just seeing that happy, normal but not normal girl made me happy. So every time she came up to the counter for some strange reason, she was the only person I would say, "Have a great rest of your day," too. She looked confused every time I said it, maybe it was because I even gave her a really small grin and I never smile at anyone.
One day, maybe four months after she starts bringing Astin around, she asks me a question before doing anything else. "Why?" she asks from behind me, so I have to turn to look at her. I had been cleaning the counter behind me, but I switch instead to washing the glasses so I can speak to her. "Pardon?" I ask.
"You never talk to anyone unless you have to take their order or call out a name for them to pick up their order, yet every time I come up here to speak with you briefly, you tell me to have a nice day. Why?"
"That's simple. If I could, I would have a conversation with you," I say. This is more than I usually speak to anyone but Marija in one day. I keep going, "You see, I hate small talks. I want to talk about atoms, death, aliens, sex, intellect, the meaning of life, faraway galaxies, music that makes you feel something different, memories, the lies you've told, your flaws, your favorite scent, your childhood, what keeps you up at night, your insecurities and fears. I like to talk to people who have depth, or who I think have the potential to speak with it. I want people who can speak from a twisted mind, using emotions just as twisted as mine, I think you have that potential, and that mind because unlike almost everyone else I talk to, the first time you greeted me, you didn't ask, 'what's up'."
Sailor blinks, then give me the most natural smile I have seen from her in four months. She starts digging around in her purse. "Aliens are bullshit, listen to Lily Allen's "F U" which is my personal thing to listen to when I'm pissed at the world," she says and sets a seven dollar tip on the counter in front of me. "The biggest lie I've told recently is that I'm fine."
And she left.
After that day, we never really got to talk again because she didn't come in every day, and she didn't sit at her usual window bar seat when she did. Whenever she was with Astin, I was worried she was going to start crying because she was shaking so badly. One day, when she finally came in alone, I wrote a message on a napkin and gave it to her with her drink.
"Being brave doesn't mean you aren't scared. Being brave means you are scared, really scared, badly scared, and you do the right or smart thing anyways." - Lars.
680Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW2ykUJC6WR
I knew she read it because she was wearing a small, but natural smile when she left and her head was held a little higher. I thought I had made a difference. That I had done some good in her life. I felt proud of myself. I felt good. Until two weeks passed and she didn't come back to the Caffination Factory.
Then it was another week.
Then it's been a month.
Two months.
Two and a half months. I'd gone back into my shell. I'd closed back in. I didn't feel happy anymore. The girl was keeping me going - the girl I barely knew anything about. She was gone. Maybe she was older than I'd anticipated and had graduated early. Maybe she started classes online. Maybe she got a job and couldn't come. Maybe Astin found a different shop he liked more, or had been forcing her to go to Starfucks...whoops, I meant Starbucks.
I would say I was pleasantly surprised when she came out of nowhere around 11:50 banging on the door of the Caffination Factory. I had opened it, and she had launched herself at me. "Lock the door...please, lock it behind me," she begged, sobs racking her body. I was frozen, this sudden contact confusing me. Her face was buried into my stomach, and all I could think to do was to obey her wish and lock the door, and stroke her hair because I'm stupid, and weird, and stupid...
"He hit me..." she whispers. I tensed in a different way at that. I pushed her away from me to look at her. Her eyes still leaked tears, though it looked difficult for her because her left eye was swollen, and her right cheek was swollen with a green and blue and purple bruise. Her arms were covered in cuts and bruises, and she was shaking due to what I could only guess was malnutrition. I brought my eyes back to her face and brushed a strand of hair away, then I dragged my thumb under her left eye, and my other thumb over her right cheekbone.
She blushed, and I couldn't help but feel pride in that, despite the situation. "You face isn't broken," I tell her, and take her hand. I walk her behind the order and pick up bar, and sit her on the counter next to the sink where I usually make the drinks. I drench one of the freshly cleaned black towels and dab at the bleeding cut on her forehead. She avoids my eyes as I bandage the cut, and then give her a bagel to eat. I also give her some water because she was coughing a lot. "What was he doing to you. Tell me all of it." I tell her.
She looks me in the eyes and then looks back down at her bagel. I put two fingers under her chin and gently ease it up so she has to meet my eyes. I brush my bangs away from my left eye. "Please," I beg.
She slowly nods. "The first time we met was at a house party. I'm not usually a party girl, but I wanted to go because I didn't want my friend Otix to be going alone. Astin was so charming and nice. We exchanged numbers, and I let him text me nonstop, even in classes. It didn't take very long for us to plan a date, and because this place was probably the place I felt safest and most happy, I suggested we come here. Soon, we were meeting here all the time. I told him the very truth about him that I could. Astin? He fed my hungry heart the perfect fast food for it - sweet lies; and I foolishly enjoyed I every bite. He was soon changing everything about me. My clothing choice, my friends. When I went to school, who I left with. Where I ate, when I ate, how much I ate or drank. He was giving me anorexia and I didn't want that. Then he began threatening suicide if I left him. I was unhappy. I definitely didn't want to be with him, but I didn't want him to kill himself because of me. So, I stayed. After that, now with the assurance that I'd be staying around, he began attempting to pressure me into sex. He started by moving me into a small, one bedroom apartment with him. We were sharing a bed, and no matter how hard I tried, he would try and touch me. Eventually, I took to waiting until he fell asleep and then leaving the bed and sleeping on the couch. He didn't like it, and that was the first time he hit me. A backhand slap I'll never forget. Soon, anything I did wasn't good enough, but he kept on insisting that if we just had sex, he'd hit me less."
"Did he..." I trail off, looking her in the eyes.
"No. We didn't. Tonight is probably the last time he can ever try and do that again. I was cooking dinner, and he started beating me. I cut really deep in his calf with the knife I had been using to chop onions and ran as far away from our apartment as I could, and the first place I thought to go where someone would listen and not over react was here...with you." she finishes.
I stare her down. "We need to call the cops on him. Explain that the man bleeding out in your apartment was only cut in self-defense."
"I called an ambulance for him before I left. I may hate him for what he did to me, but I could never let anyone die," she says. I nod. This means he's at a hospital.
"Sailor?" I say, and place my hands on her shoulders. "I know we barely know each other, but thank you for trusting me."
She smiles. "You never showed me any reason not to feel wary of you."
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