There is a slight chill as I make my way into town. Ellensburg lies east of the Cascades, so occasional gusts of mountain air blow right through us. It’s a small town made up of historic redbrick buildings and wide open space. It’s a town where nothing happens. My parents and I moved here from Seattle three years ago when my mother received a new job at Central Washington University, but only she and I stayed after she was offered a full-time position. Dad returned to his old job in Seattle and didn’t look back. I never blamed him for leaving this place. He didn’t belong here. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here, either. My mother describes Ellensburg as an old town that’s still figuring itself out in an age where everyone wants to be in the city. As much as I can’t wait to leave the place, I admit it has its charm.
I cross my arms as I enter downtown, noticing the changes brought by spring these last few weeks. Flower baskets bloom beneath streetlamps. A line of white canopies runs down the main block for the weekly farmers market. I cross the street to avoid the crowd, hoping not to run into anyone. Downtown Ellensburg is usually beautiful, especially during the warmer months. But walking these streets again, I am reminded of him. Sam waits for me to get off work and we grab falafels at the food stand. We watch a movie on “five-dollar Sundays” at the theater and then wander through town together. When I sense him standing around the corner, waiting for me, my heart races, and I think about turning back. But no one is there except a woman lost in her phone. I pass by without her even noticing.
My friend Mika Obayashi and I arranged to meet for coffee at the diner on the other side of town. There are plenty of coffee shops around, but I texted Mika last night saying I’m in no mood to run into anyone. She replied, Same. Inside the diner, I am seated at a booth by the window near an old couple sharing a menu. When the waitress comes, I order a cup of coffee, no cream, no sugar. Usually I add some milk, but I’m training myself to drink my coffee black. I read somewhere online that it is an acquired taste like wine.
I’ve only had a few sips when the bell jingles from the ceiling, and Mika comes through the door, looking for me. She’s wearing a black cardigan over a dark dress I’ve never seen her wear before. She looks better than I expected, given the circumstances. Maybe she just came from one of the services. My mom told me she spoke at the funeral. Mika is Sam’s cousin. That’s how she and I met. Sam introduced us when I first moved here.
Once Mika sees me, she comes over and slides into the red booth. I watch her set her phone down and throw her bag beneath the table. The same waitress reappears, sets down a cup, and pours a long stream of coffee.
“Extra sugar and milk would be great,” Mika requests. “Please.”
“Sure,” the waitress says.
Mika holds up her hand. “Actually, is there soy milk?”
“Soy? No.”
“Oh.” Mika frowns. “Just milk then.” As soon as the waitress turns, Mika looks at me. “You didn’t reply to my messages. I wasn’t sure if we were still meeting.”
“Sorry. I haven’t been the most responsive lately.” I don’t really have another excuse. I have a habit of leaving my phone on silent. But this week, I’ve been especially disconnected.
“I get it,” she says, frowning a little. “For a second, I thought you might have canceled without telling me. You know I don’t like being stood up.”
“Which is why I came early.”
We both smile. I have a sip of coffee.
Mika touches my hand. “I missed you,” she whispers, giving me a squeeze.
“I missed you, too.” As much as I tell myself I like being alone, I feel a rush of relief to see a familiar face. To see Mika again.
The waitress arrives, sets down a small pitcher of milk, tosses some sugar packets from her apron, and disappears again. Mika rips open three sugars and pours them into her cup. She picks up the pitcher and holds it out. “Milk?” she offers.
I shake my head.
“Because it isn’t soy?”
“No … I’m trying to drink my coffee black.”
“Hmm. Impressive,” she says, nodding. “Very Seattle of you.”
At the word Seattle, Mika’s phone lights up as notifications pop up on her screen. The phone vibrates on the table. Mika glances at her screen, then back at me. “Let me put this away.” She hides the phone in her bag, and picks up a menu. “Did you want to order something?”
“I’m actually not hungry.”
“Oh, alright.”
Mika sets down the menu. She laces her fingers together on the table as I have another sip of coffee. The jukebox blinks orange and blue from across the room but no music plays. An air of silence nearly settles between us until Mika finally asks the question.
“So, did you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Are you sure? I thought that’s why you wanted to meet.”
“I wanted to get out of the house.”
She nods. “That’s good. But how are you handling all of this?”
“Fine, I guess.”
Mika says nothing. She looks at me, as if expecting more.
“Well, what about you,” I ask her instead. “How have you been?”
Mika’s gaze falls onto the table as she thinks about this. “I don’t know. The services have been hard. There isn’t really a temple around here, so we’re doing what we can. There’s a lot of traditions and customs I didn’t even know about, you know?”