After a week of waiting for phone calls. I called Jane again. I wanted to know what the hell was going on. Afterall these people were supposed to be my support network. We were supposed to care about and love each other. What was wrong that no one wanted to talk to me?
"oh hi Sara"
"Jane I need to talk to you, can you meet me for coffee on saturday?"
Saturday coffee used to be our ritual. We had a little cafe we went to. The first cup was like two dollars and refills were a quarter. Thats hard to find these days. Plus the staff was really awesome. A jumble of teenagers and adults trying to be teenagers. Sometimes we just went to listen to the barrista drama.
"Well Sara I don't know..."
"Cut the shit Jane. something is wrong and I need to talk to someone. Your my best friend"
"Ok I'll meet you there. Same time?"
"Yeah see ya there girl"
That Saturday I dropped my son off with the babysitter, Jennie. I didn't use her often but she was great with my son. He loved going over there. When I pulled into her driveway he started bouncing in his carseat signing
"I get to play, I get to play"
Four really is the perfect age.
Jennie was happy to see us. She asked how I was doing and ushered my little guy into her living room. She already had his favorite toys out and his favorite movie on the old boob tube. He kissed me good-by and proceeded to forget I even existed. I was smiling when I drove away.
What a great name for a coffee house. Every friday night they have an open mic. Jane and I went once. It was a mad house! Every angst ridden freak who could write two words on paper was there. There were a few people who were really good, but mostly it was quacks and teens and that new genre of goth kid... the emo kid.
Cafe Expression during the day was a laid back place. They only had very few of those wooden bistro sets you see so often. Mostly it was big comfy chairs with little tables. You could move things arround to make you seating area bigger or you could move a chair off to the corner and be by yourself. Every chair had a slip cover and everyone was different. It was like drinking coffe in a salvation army used furniture store. You never worried about spilling your coffee on the chairs or scratching the tables with your laptop. It was very rare on a Saturday to see drama unfold in the hallowed halls of Cafe Expression.
When I got there Jane was already inside sitting at one of the crappy wooden bistro sets. I hate sitting in them for any given period of time because they make my ass hurt. She does too, which is why its so weird to see her sitting at one. The little door chime as I entered made Jane raise her head and look at me. What I saw in her eyes made me very nervous. She looked like a little kid who had to tell the teacher who spilled the paint on the floor. She looked nervous and apprehensive. I just stood there looking at her. I had never seen her look at me like that. ever.
My instincts kicked in and my legs took me to the counter. The girl at the register must have been new. I didn't recognize her. I ordered my standard Decaf Mocha Late. I can't drink caffine it makes me twitchy. After I paid I turned around. Jane was still looking at me like I was going to gobble her up. What the hell was going on?
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