Standing in line at the coffee shop, I deliberated about my order. Today was my first day back to work since the summer ended, and if previous years had been any indication, I had a day of long, boring meetings ahead of me.
But I needed to tread a delicate balance with my order. Too much caffeine and I’d be itching to get up and move around. I made it a habit of sitting on the aisle during in-service days so I could take frequent breaks. If I took any more, people would start to think I had irritable bowel syndrome or something. But the alternative didn’t seem feasible either: too little caffeine and I’d fall asleep in the auditorium seat. Of course, Glen McCallum, one of our history teachers, dozed off routinely at thirty-minute faculty meetings and no one said shit to him.
Finally deciding on a medium mocha latte, I dropped my eyes from the menu above the baristas’ heads and leaned to the right to count the number of people ahead of me. As usual, I was running late. One . . . two . . . three . . . I felt my muscles tense involuntarily. Shit. No, that can’t be him. I hadn’t seen him in nearly five months, and I had been to this coffee shop dozens of times since then. Of course, my summer schedule had been much different from Adam’s. I rarely rose before 10:30 in the morning, and he’d already be at work by that time. The chances of us running into one another here would have been slim to none.
As he ran a hand through the back of his thick blond hair and waited patiently for his order, my heart pounded so loudly in my chest I was certain he’d turn around to see what the noise was. I could leave without being noticed. Just remove myself from the line and slip out the door.
But I couldn’t. Well, I could. I just didn’t want to. There was no denying that I had thought about him often since our break-up, despite the fact that I had become more independent and self-assured. If Adam met the new me, he’d surely realize I had changed. The selfish Lily who needed a man to love her and accept her had vanished. I loved and accepted myself, and that was enough. Sure, I wanted someone to share my life with. But I didn’t need someone.
In order to get his attention, I thought briefly about pushing in front of him and making some asinine comment like I had on the day we’d met. But I thought better of it. Instead, I let my eyes appraise his strong shoulders beneath his baby blue dress shirt.
I no longer felt rushed to get to work. I would happily stare at him for as long as I could.
The line moved up as the barista slid the large coffee Adam’s way. He picked it up quickly and moved confidently toward the cream and sugar station against the far wall, where he poured a generous amount of milk into his cup and swirled it around.
I didn’t even have to look at his face as he turned to leave to know I’d been wrong. Adam drank his coffee black with just sugar. The man wasn’t him. I’d just wanted it to be.
***
After our compulsory “welcome back” breakfast in the cafeteria, our principal Mr. Murdock told us we had a ten minute break before the first meeting would commence in the auditorium. The herd shuffled through the halls, some eager to start the new year, but most just wondering where the summer had gone.
Tina and I found seats on the aisle as the superintendent rose to speak. “Good morning, everyone,” Dr. Edwards began once the noise from the crowd had died down. “I hope that all of you have had an enjoyable and relaxing summer. I know I did.” She rambled on for a bit about her vacation to California, and then directed us to the big screen that had lowered behind her on stage. “As many of you know, I like to open with a slideshow each year. Usually, we show pictures of school events: the plays, field days, concerts. But this year, I thought I’d show the people behind all of that. I thought I’d show all of you because you are the ones who make those things happen. A few weeks ago I sent out an email asking for pictures of your summer vacations, and I received an overwhelming response. Thanks to all of you who contributed.” Dr. Edwards stepped to the side as the lights dimmed and the slideshow began to play. The song "You're the Best" began to play as pictures of the teachers flashed on the screen. I couldn’t help but think that the song didn’t apply to every face I saw.