Sweet Thing (Sweet Thing #1)

He grabbed his guitar and headed out the door, humming away. I sat at the bar until my heart slowed down to a reasonable pace.

Later that day at Kell’s, Jenny told me everything about Tyler. They had been dating for a couple of weeks and she was already head over heels. Jenny said Tyler wrote website content for a living. I laughed when she described it as prolific writing. She scowled at me and said, “Yeah, I know he’s not exactly Faulkner, okay, but he does write poetry and that’s some romantic shit.” In the short time I had known Jenny, it was obvious to me that even though she could be goofy and fun loving, she knew exactly who she was and she took herself seriously. It was a quality I knew others could see from her confidence and it was a quality I admired and envied.

Jenny had been at Kell’s for so long because my dad paid her well. Pops barely made any money from the café. In fact, there were years in the recent past where Kell’s actually lost money because Pops continued giving health benefits and raises to his employees. They were like family to him and they were becoming my family too. Because my father owned the buildings that housed Kell’s, Sam’s, and mine and Sheil’s apartments, he was able to keep the café afloat and live pretty comfortably on the rental income. He didn’t care if Kell’s made money; he was just determined to keep it open because it meant so much to so many people. Jenny saw that loyalty in my father and she continued working for him and now me because of it. The income at Kell’s was enough to live on for her and the schedule gave her the freedom to pursue other projects. She designed websites, mostly for people she knew with small businesses, and she coached a little kid’s soccer team on the weekends. I knew Jenny and Martha were in it for the long haul with me, which motivated me to start making decisions. I was making up my mind about what to do, but there were still questions. I knew I would keep the café open, stay in my father’s apartment for now, teach piano lessons, and then what? I wanted more. I wondered if I could finally put that business degree to use to start a company. I thought maybe I would get to know Robert and he could help me. These questions ran through my mind on a continuous loop at times. It seemed like the only reprieve I felt from my life stresses was when I was with Will.

Just before the poetry group arrived, I got a phone call from my mom saying she had booked a flight for Thursday of the following week.

The café door jingled and in walked Will, wearing a cheeky grin. He was followed by a thin, gargantuan man who stood at least seven feet tall. Not eight, though. Will introduced me to Tyler. During my conversation with Will that morning, he only mentioned that he knew Tyler, he didn’t say he would be at Kell’s that night. I wondered if he showed because he knew I would be there. Tyler was overly formal and polite to me; he mentioned how much Jenny loved her job and I realized that Tyler saw me as Jenny’s boss. I thought it was sweet that he was trying to impress me. Jenny came out from the back and went straight into Tyler’s insanely long arms. They seemed really happy.

Everyone sat down and Will asked for a vanilla latte. He tried to pay me, but I wouldn’t take it. I made his coffee with care and I even made a little heart design in the foam. I didn’t choose a heart for Will; it was the only design I knew how to make. When I brought Will his coffee, he looked at the heart for a long second and then gave me a simple thank you and took a sip. I didn’t want to confuse him or send the wrong message, but he was so sweet to me; I felt like I should be the same for him. Even though he could get my blood pumping with a simple look or smile, I figured the only way to have him in my life for a long time would be through friendship. Like Martha and Pops.

Tyler and Jenny kept up the PDA throughout the night. When Tyler got up to do his slam, Jenny whistled really loud and over the top, it was soccer-coach loud. I didn’t fully understand Tyler’s poem—I think it was about New York and love in the big city. We all clapped wildly for him. With a shy smile he walked over to Jenny and buried his face in her neck. I looked over at Will from time to time. He was making friends with everyone in the café. The word gregarious came to mind when I saw him from a distance, telling stories so animatedly. At one point several patrons began urging him to get up and do some inspired poetry off the cuff. I heard him repeating, “In time, my people, in time.”