She snickers, “No need to feel embarrassed. I didn’t have five children by being a virgin.”
I put my hands over my face, “Not helping!”
I’m saved from more questioning by the sound of the front door opening.
A woman I recognize walks in, a man trailing behind her.
She doesn’t come in too often, so it takes me a moment to realize that her hair is different. It’s in the same smooth shoulder-length style it’s always been in, but instead of light brown, it’s a bright bleached blonde.
“I love what you’ve done to your hair!” I exclaim, not recalling her name.
Her smile is instant, “Thank you. I just had it done this weekend.”
“Well, it’s fantastic,” I tell her.
She opens her mouth to say more, but the balding man with her rolls his eyes and grumbles something about “not being 25 anymore”,causing her to snap her mouth shut. Her smile disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
My hands fist into balls.
I want to yell at him. Tell him he’s being a total jerk. But just the idea of speaking up makes my palms sweat.
Say something.
I urge myself.
Anything.
But even if I could muster up the courage to say something, he might respond. And that… that sends my heartbeat racing.
Feeling just as defeated as the pretty blonde looks, I keep my eyes on her and try to smile, “What can I get you?”
Her expression is brittle, but the spark of anger that I see flinting behind her eyes makes me feel a little better. “I’ll have an iced coffee with…” the man clears his throat, “skim milk.”
“Any flavor?” I ask, hoping he just swallowed a bug.
But then her eyes flit towards the man that I assume is her husband before she shakes her head.
Rage boils inside me, but I keep my mouth shut and take the man’s order, and credit card, without saying another word.
Leslie starts to make the paunchy man’s drink – a full fat, full flavor concoction he doesn’t deserve.
I’m debating, deciding if I should do it or not, when I see the shitty man make a nasty expression at the woman from across the shop.
“Fucker,” I whisper.
Then, with hands that are only kinda shaking, I add a pump of vanilla syrup to the woman’s drink. And since I’m in it now, I sub her skim milk with half and half.
If she takes a drink and hates it, I’ll pretend it was a mistake.
I hand off the doctored iced coffee to Leslie and busy myself with tidying the counter.
The couple is halfway to the exit when the woman takes a sip. Her steps slow and she takes another long pull from her straw then stops.
My pulse is thundering when she slowly turns her head back towards me. But the worry of reprimand vanishes when I see the wide-eyed look of appreciation on her face.
“Olivia!” the man half shouts, holding open the door.
The woman spins around to follow, but as soon as the man’s back is turned, she holds her middle finger aimed at his back before following him out the door.