Confessions From A Coffee Shop by T.B. Markinson

Author:T.B. Markinson [Markinson, T.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

On Thursday morning, I received a text from Samantha. “Can you do lunch?”

“Where and when?” I quickly responded.

“Wherever you like. My day is wide open,” she replied, which clued me in immediately.

Whenever I walked into Beantown Café in the morning, my mind briefly flew to Samantha and her company’s layoffs. The bastards waited until Thursday to deactivate her badge and pull her aside in front of everyone. What a degrading way to let someone go.

My shift ended at ten, so I asked if Sam wanted to meet then. If I could have, I would have walked out right then and there, except that I needed the money.

The three hours following Sam’s text were hell. Fortunately, customers came and went, which kept me busy, but it didn’t stop my mind from wandering to how Sam must feel. As soon as my shift ended, I ran all the way to the Last Drop on Boylston Street. Samantha sat at the bar, nursing a beer. She gazed absently at the TV, which was replaying last night’s Sox game.

“Hey there.” I slid into the barstool next to her. “Can I buy you another?”

“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me.” She placed a hand on her chest, sucking in a deep breath.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” I put a hand on her back to comfort her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking …” She stared at the TV and lifted her glass for a generous swig.

At first, I thought she just wanted me to hang out at the bar with her and drink, to keep her company. Then I noticed she was barely in control of her emotions. It was only a matter of seconds before she broke down.

“There’s a table in the back. No one’s there.” I rose, gently pulling her arm.

She nodded, and started to motion to the bartender, but I lowered her hand. “Don’t worry. I got this. Head on back, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

She didn’t even look at me, just slunk to the back table dejectedly.

I asked the bartender what Sam was drinking, and ordered two of the same. Tattoos ran up and down both of his arms and neck, and two metal spikes stuck out of each ear. He nodded in Samantha’s direction. “I’ll bring them back there if you want to join her.”

“Thanks,” I said, and hotfooted to the back of the restaurant, taking a seat opposite her.

“I really thought I was safe,” Samantha confessed. “Yes, I was stressed, but deep down I thought it would be okay.” She stared at the brick wall behind me.

I reached across to place my hand on hers. What could I say?

“All week they had been picking people off my team. I thought, ‘Hey, they need me now. Who else will do all the work?’” She rubbed her face with both hands. “God! I feel so stupid now. I don’t even have my resume updated. I thought that if I did, it would curse me for sure.

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