This is a piece that I co-wrote with a friend of mine. I was horrified that I could not find the google drive link, but thankfully I did. So, to prevent that from happening again, I will just copy the file here. Enjoy!
Gero’s coffee shop is rather small, but unique enough to attract young adults and insta-feed-aesthetic enthusiasts.
It’s noon. No one wants to be outside in this scorching heat. Then comes a regular — Nia Daniaty. She dresses just like any popular girl that has thousands of followers on insta. But she is different. She doesn’t greet, she puts on none other than her default face; not exactly grumpy, but definitely not one you’d want to mess up with. She clearly attracts everyone’s attention when she comes.
She walks closer. Gentle and soft, Nia rubs the glossy surface of the menu using her lean fingers. Her index finger stops at a plain picture of an americano.
George Michael’s Careless Whisper is playing. As her sharp gaze swiftly turns, she rushes towards her usual seat. She’s waiting for something — or someone?
She always sits next to the water dispenser that has a sign that says “free refill” on the front side of the gallon’s cover. The seat is an odd choice as most people are bothered by people refilling their water bottles.
Twenty minutes has passed since her first sip of coffee today — a paramount factor of Nia’s whole day mood. Then a girl with a pair of flashy sunglasses walks by the shop. Her best friend. Soulmate. Her personal snacks provider.
Nia motions for the girl to follow her and then steps inside Gero’s coffee shop. Who could it be?
Gero’s eyes are glued on her. She seems familiar though he can’t be sure, as the thick, black lens of her sunglasses prohibit anyone from looking into her eyes.
As she enters the coffee shop, the girl takes off the sunglasses. Her eyes are black as night, sharp as a raven’s claw, somber as a grave keeper. Flashes of memories run through Gero’s mind. He knows her. She was someone Gero cherished in his past. The past he is running from.
Nia greets the girl from afar. She walks past the barista’s counter, leaving Gero frozen who is now panting with his mouth closed. His world turns upside-down. The blower breathes a chilling spin of air down to his spine. What happened between the two?
The girl puts down her black flower patterned bag beside Nia’s chair and walks to the cashier — where Gero gazes blankly into the distance.
“Hi, excuse me, I’d like to order a medium London fog. Hot, please”
Gero definitely doesn’t hear her order.
“Um, Gero? Can I get a hot medium London fog, please?”
“Ah yes. A hot medium London fog. For Debby”
Gero can (and will) never forget Debby. The girl that every man adores and loves, including Gero, of course. Her cunning eyes are her signature. But summer 2016 changed everything.
The night was wet. Raindrops were dancing on a tiny wooden rail of Gero’s only window. He knew the storm would never go away anytime soon. A weak voice from outside disturbed his thoughts.
Gero couldn’t hear it clearly. He opened the window, stuck out his head, and now the scream of thunder could easily jab his right ear.
“I lost my apartment key. Can I come in? Don’t worry I’ll pay.”
Debby was shivering. Her pale arms armored in a soaked blouse, her shoes emitted an offensive stink. She had almost lost control of her footing, whilst her trembling lips barely expressed any articulated word.
It was the first time they saw each other. They were leaner, younger, and much happier.
“Do you fancy tea or coffee?” Gero asked the trembling stranger.
“Tea, please. I chugged a venti this morning and I don’t think my stomach can handle more coffee today. Anyway, tea. Any kind will do. Thanks.”
Gero opened his cabinet and started rummaging for his months old earl grey tea. He checked for its expired dates on the back of the packaging and let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank God,” he murmured.
“No, sorry. I’ll prepare your tea right away”
Gero began to make a concoction of earl grey tea, steamed full cream milk and vanilla syrup. He always wanted to add tea variations to the menu but he just never did.
“Here’s your tea. It’s our today’s special. I hope you’re not allergic to dairy.”
She took a sip and her pupils dilated just like when she fell in love with that greasy haired boy back in grade 7.
“Shit. This is good. What’s the name of this drink? Definitely my favourite.”
Gero and Debby met every Thursday. They agreed that Thursdays, as a mini weekend, needed a little celebration — less anticipated, same joy.
They talked, stared idly at Gero’s yellowed ceiling, made a cup of London Fog. Many a cold night they had had a pleasant time through this ritual. And more often than not, they found enjoyment in each other’s company.
For a moment it was as if they were a pair of lovers, then both were like two strangers whenever they accidentally met on a day other than Thursday. It wasn’t without reasons. Though Gero had nobody to treasure for except himself, Debby had many. Was Gero one of them? Gero paid no mind to this concern. He was happy enough to see Debby every Thursday.
“Well.. Thursday kinda fits you, Gero. You see, people get all hyped up for Friday, although it’s closer to Monday. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. Thursday is better. And you are better than everyone here,” Debby smiled and winked playfully at him.
Her answer didn’t seem to satisfy Gero.
“Come on, Debby, you know exactly why I asked.”
Debby completely disregarded his question, kept on drawing on her little sketchbook while listening to Adele’s Hello.
Gero returned to his station and grabbed the least presentable cloth to wipe the dirt off of his turquoise stove.
“Done.” She looked at her drawing and seemed so content. She snatched the book and ran to the kitchen.
“Happy birthday, Gero. You were born on Thursday. That’s why I like Thursday the most. I hope that fulfills your curiosity.”
Gero was ecstatic. But that wasn’t it.
Gero accepted the fact that he was just like a day within Debby’s week. There were six others. Everything was mysterious about her. And this was worse — she needed him only for a little celebration. For unknown occasions, for unspoken intention. He had tried to cut the frills, but the mouth would not obey.
Not until a cloudy Thursday, precisely on their 20th meeting, Gero braved himself to sound out the obvious. His heart pounding as fast as a shooting star, his hands shaking like young branches in a winter storm.
She laughed off his question. It was a hard laugh; she almost choked herself with her hot London Fog. Squinting her eyes against the shock, Debby put her white cup back on the table. A thin cloud of steam was softly blown by the sudden shift.
Debby had anticipated this moment since their first meeting. She calmly chuckled, staring sharply as if she was asserting her dominance at Gero’s hopeful look. Unlike Debby, Gero’s face white as a ghost in the moonlight, his forehead dripping with sweat.
“What am I to you?” his lips trembling.
“You’re my Thursday, Gero. What else?”
She finished her tea, faintly smiled at him, walked out the door, and left it open.
The pungent smell of burnt garlic filled the apartment. Debby rushed to the kitchen only to find her roommate smiling and happily pulling her creation out of the oven.
“Oh God. Not another garlic bread, Nia. What kind is it now?”
“The best kind. You know I have been perfecting my ultimate garlic bread recipe for the past few days. Try one!”
Nia was not lying. Frankly, this batch was actually edible and delicious. Her garlic bread was even better than those at the campus cafeteria. She finally did it: to surpass the taste of the infamous cafeteria’s garlic bread.
“WOW. Just WOW. Let Gero know about this! This should be sold at Gero’s immediately!”
“You sure? Anything that comes from your mouth doesn’t seem sincere. But OK. I’ll send some to Gero. Anyway, how’s Gero?”
Gero was fine. Or at least Debby hoped Gero was fine. He was still the man she would choose over Harry Styles. He was her everything. But she could never show it.
Back in their days together, Nia only knew little about Debby’s routine. Dressed like a regular office worker, Debby went to work exactly at 8am and returned to the apartment around 7pm. There were no talks about work between them. Nia, apparently, didn’t seem to care.
Today, the three have separate lives to live in. Gero with his award-winning coffee-brewing world, Nia and her skyscraper view every weekdays, Debby, as mysterious as she was, with her own secrets.
As promised, Nia brings a box of shiny garlic breads to be sold at Gero’s coffee shop. What isn’t included in her promise to Gero is inviting Debby over.
“Why did you invite her? Do you even remember what she did to me?” Gero still craves for an explanation.
Albeit guilty, Nia still manages to answer, “damn I forget she ruined you into pieces,” in the same tone a heavy smoker might use to say, “damn I forgot to bring my lighter.”
Holding a cup of London Fog, Gero approaches Debby. He puts the frothy white cup on the tanned table in front of her, then turns his eyes away.
“You still owe me an explanation.”
Debby can’t hide her laughter from her usual fake smile. Through frothful lips of hers, she gently replies, “I’ll wait until your shift ends.”
It’s already 2:50 pm. 10 minutes until Gero’s shift ends. Nia leans forward over the table, eyes on Debby, judging. “Hey Deb, are you seriously going to give Gero closure? That boy has suffered enough. Be gentle, okay?”
Nia always acts like that to Gero — like a sister that protects her baby brother. Even sometimes Debby thinks Nia is possessed by Gero’s late mother.
“I know. I get it. I’m just going to have a conversation with him like we used to. That’s all.”
End of shift. 3.00 pm. Gero raises an eyebrow at Debby as if it’s a cue for her to come and talk to him.
Debby gets up from her seat and sits at the patio outside. Gero immediately follows.
“You scared me Gero. That was the reason why I left.”
“Scared you? Can you please elaborate on this?”
Debby puts her arms around Gero and kisses him on the cheek. She smiles at him and then walks back to her prior seat.
“How would this give me closure?”
Debby knows her Thursday as much as the other days. Her Monday is a raggedy salaryman who has a donkey-level of clumsiness. Some say he is the weak link in the business: a certain someone who is easy to tip off — he makes good money from it anyway. The Tuesday is more like a crybaby trapped in a wild teddy bear — a big guy with a brown belly. Only Debby can satisfy his nasty mommy issue. Wednesday? An orphan schoolboy with no purpose in life other than spending his inherited wealth, worth as much as a dwarven mount of jewels. Ms. Friday, albeit a dysfunctional dominatrix, is actually kind. She likes to treat Debby with personalised poetry and fancy handicrafts. The weekends — Saturday and Sunday — are the notorious, problematic siblings who live in the biggest unit on the 5th floor. Although they seem nice to each other, they don’t sincerely care about anything but the destructive competition of getting into Debby’s other days.
Gero doesn’t know what he was.
“Would you treat me this way forever?” he asks softly as a pack of noisy teenagers storm into the coffee shop.
Debby is indeed a sly fox, but she’ll never torment the harmless. Unfortunately, Gero isn’t her type to prey on.
“What was that? Did you just kiss him?”
Nia’s eyes are darting everywhere like she’s terrified someone might see Debby and Gero kissing.
“Psssh. It’s not like I made out with him. It’s just a friendly kiss on the cheek. You make it sound like a big deal.”
“You should’ve seen yourself from my seat.”
Debby stares at the window and watches Gero climb onto his bike. She leans back and closes her eyes. Then rests her hands on her lap. She looks very calm when she does that. She gently opens her eyes and pretends to be interested in her book titled Sapiens. Her mind is certainly not there.
Nia offers her a gingerbread cookie she got from a convenience store on her way to Gero’s cafe but she shakes her head.
“Do you remember Mr. & Mrs. Spencer? The old couple that lived beside the lift in our old apartment?”
“Ah.. The lovely couple that would give us gingerbread cookies and spiced bread on Christmas?”
“Yes. Your cookie reminds me of them. It scared me.”
“You are spooked by many things, it seems. Earlier you said Gero scared you, now, a cookie scares you. Are you scared of me too?”
“Haha no. You’re good. I hate being with you sometimes. Gero and the Spencers though.. They give me the same weird vibes. They emit happiness, joy, comfort. Whenever I feel happy, I tend to feel sad or scared.”
She takes a sip of her already empty cup of london fog.
“I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late for my yoga class.”
Gero is back in his apartment. He offers himself a nice, hot shower, then closes his eyes as the water starts to pour on his spine.
“Why couldn’t I do something?” he mumbles softly with regret. His mind is spinning as cluelessness shrouds his lonely soul.
He remembers joyful times the three had spent in his apartment. Nia was passionate every time she told them about her office affairs — toying with mid-aged managers, naive fresh graduates, even the meanest clients, they all would finally submit themselves to Nia. She enjoys being wanted. Gero, never been in an office setting, took an interest in Nia’s fascinating storytelling and about life in another world. Debby wasn’t the talkative one whenever they’re together. She takes pleasure listening intently to Nia and Gero. Especially Gero.
The hot water is running out. Cold water now flows rapidly like a winter breeze in a Himalayan mountains. Gero doesn’t move an inch.
“Why couldn’t I stop her from being herself?”
Once again, he’s standing frozen like a cat who just loses its thick fur after a lion-cut. His typical episode returns.
Gero puts on a black shirt and a pair of khaki pants. He dresses just like he is about to go out again even though he is ready for bed. He sits on his coffee stained sofa and turns on the TV while trying to locate his phone. Gero’s studio apartment is not a spacey one but he always loses his phone whenever he’s at home. The apartment consists only of the basics: a bed, a TV, a single sofa, a microwave, a fridge and a stove-oven. Gero never feels like adding ornaments or posters to the wall. He finds the white and somewhat dirty wall is the standard and it’s totally a crime to ruin it with pictures.
The trio used to gather at Gero’s apartment every night during the summer of 2016. They would watch series such as Hannibal, Sherlock Holmes or The Lord of The Rings, but never others. They would also make soups as they thought soup was the easiest food to play around with the ingredients.
He eventually finds his phone in the bathroom and searches Nia’s number in his contact list. He wants to call her but he hesitates.
“Ah whatever.” He says to himself, shooing his thoughts away.
“Did she tell you about what happened earlier? Did you get the full story?”
She knows he’s talking about Debby.
Debby spent her childhood with her mother and countless men under the same leaky roof. Her father left the family right after she was born, walking away from the birthing room with a disturbed look as if the innocent baby was the biggest mistake that would cause him unexpected pain. He knew wasn’t the father figure
Apparently, the human brain is less capable of complex decision-making when it’s hot outside. Though, Gero finds himself pondering more about life better in this dry, hot and humid weather than in winter. He claims the cold freezes his brain.
“I have been waiting for what seems like forever. For the situation to change to become a bit easier. But what if it never does? And I’ve just wasted all this time, waiting?”
Gero drank two glasses of iced coffee this morning. Those surely affect the words that come out of his little mouth.
“Now, Nia, tell me. What should I do? I hate feeling like this. I know Debby will never see me that way” Gero begged Nia for an answer, using air quotes around the words “that way”.
Nia is not there. Not even on the line talking to him. Gero is just simply rehearsing before he talks to his crush’s best friend because he’s too nervous pouring out his feelings.
— yup, the story never had a proper ending. To be continued….
