Chapter 1 - The rain and the cocoa
The streets were dark and I could feel my hair starting to drip as I crossed the street. I tucked my hands in the pockets of my coat, internally screaming at myself for being so stubborn. I had been so sure earlier that morning, when I opened the apartment window and was greeted by a shy but fierce sunlight, that the big dark-green umbrella that always made my purse five times heavier would not be needed that day.
The cars were driving fast, spilling water here and there on pedestrians, and I felt a big spray of street water in the back of my legs as a Range Rover turned the corner. I stopped for a moment and almost laughed. It was almost as if the British weather was testing me, checking to see if it could find my breaking point. After cleaning cages all day and rolling on the floor with a 200kg lion, I had to admit to felt I was being cleansed by the skies. But then I remembered that water was full of dirt and carbon particles and went back to the thought that the cold wind and rain were simply mocking me after a long, dirty day.
The bright traffic lights contrasted to the foggy rain and made it feel like it was later in the day than it actually was. At that point, I stopped trying to walk as fast as I could to get out of the rain and just sighed. What was the point? I was already drenched anyway. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to squeeze some of the water off as I approached the coffee shop door. Or so I thought. I looked up just in time to avoid being pushed to the street as a group of photographers stepped back all at once so a small teenager could go inside the shop. As the door opened and closed, I felt the warmth and the smell of vanilla, and suddenly felt very irritable with the little crowd blocking the way.
“Excuse me” I said, trying to sound polite and relaxed, even though I was starting to shake from the cold drops still falling from the dark clouds above us.
At least twelve cameras were pointed directly through the glass doors and at first I didn’t think anyone heard me. But then one of the men looked back at my frowning and quickly tapped another on the shoulder, and I was able to make my way through them and slam the door behind me.
I always thought it was much better, cheaper and ecologically sustainable to make coffee or beverages at home. However, as I felt my feet starting to unfreeze inside my boots as I walked further inside and into the line, I admitted that I deserved the luxury of a hot cinnamon cocoa after making a pact with myself to never trust my own weather forecast again. Ever since moving to the English island, I found myself more prone to coffee runs, even though I still tried to make it at home. I pulled out my reusable cup and enjoyed the warm feeling of the drink in my cold hands, and looked around.
It only took me a minute to find a ginger head in one of the tables in the corner, almost hidden from the rest of the cafe. I walked towards Olivia, sipping the hot cocoa, when one of my boots slided on the wet white floor and I had to hold onto a table nearby to keep my balance. I heard Olivia’s laugh and another strange voice, and horrified, I realized she wasn’t waiting for me alone.
I walked to them with as much dignity as I had left, which wasn’t a lot. I put my cup down with a thud and looked Olivia deep into her eyes.
“I immensely dislike the weather today”
She choked on her own drink, incapable of not laughing.
“Have a seat, miss rainforest” she said, pointing to the seat right across her at the small wooden table.
I sat down and finally looked to her side. A pair of bright green eyes met mine with curiosity, a hand already being held out to me.
“Hi, I’m sorry about the rain”, said the guy with the eyes, and as I shook his hand I suddenly felt a lot more conscious of the fact that I probably looked like a very miserable, wet kitten. “I’m Blake”
“I’m Georgia”, I replied instantly. I noticed a group of three girls were staring at us from two tables to our left, but Blake didn’t seem to take notice. He looked at me a little longer, squeezing his eyebrows together, as if he was focusing on one specific thought, but then turned to Olivia again and they resumed the conversation they were in before I got there.
Olivia took a sip of her drink, playing with a strand of orange-brown hair through her fingers.
“So how’s the lion? Did he manage to finally knock you down? You look like you’ve been knocked down by a lion”, she looked at Blake, expecting confirmation. He laughed lightly and I realized he only had a thermic water bottle in his hands, his fingers tapping the lid.
“Are you from the area?”, he asked, again with the eyebrows frowning. “I’m sorry, you look strangely familiar”, he added.
“No, I’m not. I’m actually from an island in South America. But I did an exchange year in Manchester when I was in high school, and I started working at the zoo here right after I graduated from university”, I stopped, afraid of rambling to a complete stranger about my complete kind of ordinary life. I guess I couldn’t take it for granted the opportunity of leaving home to work in another country doing something I love. “Which explains the lion, who did knock me down today”, I concluded to Olivia, smiling from the memory of Leo, the biggest lion on the zoo who still thought he was a cub, putting his huge paws on my shoulders and pushing me to the dusty ground, and licking my entire face in the process.
Blake nodded solemnly, as if I was explaining something of extreme value. I sipped my drink, enjoying the warmth in my fingers again as they continued to talk about a party that would happen in two days time, when two large men I didn’t notice before sitting at a nearby table stood up, and looked over at ours.
I looked back at then as Blake looked over at them and waved.
“I should go, but I’ll see you both at the party, I suppose?” He looked at me.
I turned to Olivia, but she was already nodding.
“Absolutely”, and he gave her a quick hug and a polite smile at me and left with the two men through a back door. I didn’t know the coffee shop had a back door.
“Wait, who was that? I feel like I know him too” I asked, trying to remember where I had seen that face before. I hadn’t been in the country long, but I was sure I had seen those eyes and smile even before moving.
“He is Blake Turner” she added simply. She sipped her coffee and continued. “The songwriter and musician. He’s been writing songs for all the main national artists and only recently took credit for his work. I’m sure you’ve heard him before”.
I turned my head and noticed all the men with the cameras were gone, apart from one, talking to another man on the street and showing one of his pictures in his camera.
“Hey, I didn’t realize you were friends with famous people. I would have befriended you sooner” I teased, poking her arm. “He is very charming”.
“He is indeed” she laughed, and put down her empty cup. “But I’m very much compromised and in a happy relationship. To a person, not a job” she accused.
I finished my drink too and got up. “A girl’s gotta pay rent. I don’t choose my working hours as much as I choose to be caught in this rain”.
