New Beginnings

by Megan Keith

  I quickly changed the topic back to my new job but that part of the conversation, from that day, has always stuck with me. Mum had known Emma wasn’t the girl for me and that was hard to hear back then. However now I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if we had continued our relationship long distance. Or even worse, if she had moved up here with me. Emma did the right thing, breaking up with me, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. They say love is blind and I can see just how true that is now. I fell for her and was blind to the fact that she didn’t feel the same way.

  I grab myself a beer from the fridge and head to the bathroom for a quick shower, anything to distract myself from this stupid and pointless pity party.

  Bianca

  Ugh, he’s looking at me again. Why? Can’t he take a hint? He is so not my type … anymore. Been there done that, I refuse to get caught up with another guy like him. Just drink your damn coffee and leave already! He’s been in the café every day this week, complimenting me on my hair, my clothes, the way I make the coffee, idle chit-chat about the frigging weather. I know he’s trying to work his way up to asking for my phone number or a date. And every time I’ve given him a polite response with a tight smile, hoping to let him know I’m not interested. Get a clue fella!

  I glance his way again and he’s still looking. He beams a sweet smile at me. Oh, why did I do that? He doesn’t need encouraging! He is so not what I need right now. Or ever again! No more nice guys. And this guy seems like a nice guy, a really nice guy, gentle and kind, polite - with his fancy suits, perfectly styled hair and indirect approach. No, I need a man who’s assertive, who knows what he wants and goes for it. Someone who, if they wanted to ask me out they would just bloody do it already! I want a guy who isn’t a pushover and so damn agreeable, or a lazy no-hoper like my ex. I do not want to wear the pants in another relationship. This guy, is definitely not what I’m after.

  “Could I get one of those to go, please?”

  “Sorry?” I look up apologetically at the person who spoke. Oh shit, it’s him! And I have no idea what he just asked for.

  “A hedgehog slice thanks.” He points to the slice in the cabinet under the counter.

  My eyes involuntarily flick to his. He smiles and it lights up his whole damn face. Some of his ‘styled to perfection’ dark brown hair comes loose and flops into his eyes, just begging to be swept away by my fingers. My fingers? Grrr! No! His deep brown eyes and perfect teeth add to his appeal, making it hard to look in any other direction. I blink at him to regain focus. Right. Hedgehog slice. I bend down to get his snack, pop it onto a plate and place it on the counter.

  My eyes again meet his and he lets out a small throaty chuckle as he asks, “You giving away plates now?” His tone is mocking yet sexy. Sexy? Fuck no! I don’t want to think that about this guy.

  I stare at him in confusion and he leans forward. My hand still rests against the china plate on the counter, so his face is really close to mine.

  “I said to go,” he whispers with a gentle smile and I shiver as his warm breath reaches out to me.

  “Oh shit! Sorry!” I suck in a quick breath and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I fumble with the pile of white paper bags on the counter, dropping a few on the floor before finally managing to get one separated from the pile.

  “No hurry,” he says, grinning at me and my clumsiness as I grab hold of the tongs again and struggle to pick up the slice. I’m flustered but he’s not teasing, he’s being nice … and genuine … and kind … and his easy smile only renders me more useless. When I hand him the bag he hands me a five dollar note. “Keep the change and you have a nice day.” He gives me another wide smile then promptly leaves the café. He’s wearing a crisp white business shirt and a pair of black pants, no jacket today. I watch his retreating backside, which admittedly looks pretty good in his well-fitted suit pants. Against my will, my eyes follow him as he passes the café window and from his side profile I notice a small smile still playing on his lips. I’m left speechless and short of breath but I don’t really understand why.

  “He’s been in here a lot,” Scar says, motioning with her head to the door he just went through. “I think that guy may like you.”

  “Maybe.” Slips from my mouth, while I absentmindedly play with my hair.

  “He looks just like your type-”

  “Nope. Wrong!” I cut her off, standing to attention.

  “I know, I know, you want someone assertive, with life goals, who grabs the bull by the horns, blah blah blah … someone nothing like Dean.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Hate to break it to ya sister, the sex on legs that just left is nothing like Dean. For one thing he’s better looking!” I turn to Scar and raise my eyebrows, just knowing she’s not finished yet. She never did like Dean. “Dean was a dole bludger that mooched off you, B.” Here we go. “He was a worthless piece of shit. That guy,” she points toward the window where he is no longer in view, “wears nice business suits, so I’m guessing has a fairly decent job for a start. Surely that already makes him a hundred times more assertive than Dean ever was.”

  “Whatever,” I reply flippantly, before turning to serve the next customer.

  I can always expect Scar to voice her opinion. And she’s nearly always right … nearly. She does have a point about that guy appearing to have more direction than Dean. He must have a decent job to afford suits like that. And he works in the city, close by I’d guess. I wonder what he does. He probably has qualifications … and now I sound like a snob. It doesn’t matter what the guy does for a living, the fact that he actually has a steady job is a huge improvement on Dean. Not that I’m interested or anything. He’s too nice and shy … or something.

  I hate being alone but I’m not prepared to waste any more time on anyone that’s not worthy or not my type. After wasting the better part of a year with Dean, I deserve a decent guy. Someone who doesn’t sleep until lunchtime, then veg out on my couch all afternoon. I’m seeking a guy with goals and direction and assertiveness.

  Hypocritical, of me I know. When, here I am at job number twelve. Twelve, for crying out loud! I want someone who has a career and is financially stable, someone who will take care of me. I want a guy that is not like I am. I don’t need to be an independent woman, and I most certainly won’t ever be the career-driven bread-winner in a relationship. That just isn’t me.

  So, I have no career aspirations of my own and I’ve had as many jobs as half the years I’ve been alive on this Earth. Pathetic, right? Yep, at twenty-four years of age I’m still doing what I’ve done since I finished high school – working in customer service. Me, not the most friendliest of people, I don’t have the “gift of the gab” (as my mother would put it) I’m not confident or outspoken, I don’t even have a nice smile. Yet, here I am serving people, day in, day out. Go figure!

  I’ve been at “Sweets, Coffees & Cakes” for a little over a year (the longest I’ve ever been in one place) and I absolutely love it. I love the people I work with, the quirkiness of the décor and the atmosphere of working amongst the hustle and bustle of the Sydney CBD. I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else, again. And believe me, I have a lot to compare it to. I’ve had plenty of jobs I sucked at - fashion stores, department stores, grocery stores, and even a hardware store. But this little coffee shop in the heart of the city has been my favourite by far, and that has a lot to do with Scar. Since the day we met (which was the day she hired me) she’s been my rock. She’s the owner of the café and she also happens to be my best friend.

  It’s funny to be so close with someone that is the polar opposite of you though. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she hired me to work for her, I doubt we ever would have been friends. Mainly because we’re so different and, other than at this café, our paths probably wouldn’t have crossed. Scar is outspoken and loud. She’s daring and loves to be the centre of attention and I’d rather sit quietly and observe. She has the most outrageous taste in fashion, opting for fishnet
stockings, short skirts and skimpy tops, whereas I’m a more conservative jeans, t-shirt and sneakers kind of girl. She has short cropped pixie-styled hair that continually changes colour (this week it’s brown with pink tips). She’s also covered in tattoos and piercings. And I have boring light sandy brown hair, not a single tattoo and the only piercings I have are two holes in each ear. She’s a happily married, home owner, with a successful business and I am her casual employee, renting a very ordinary house with no real prospects in the love department. We couldn’t be more different, or on more different paths in life, but somehow we just click.

  And as far as bosses go, Scar is the best. She treats me more like the friend that I am, than her employee. Although she doesn’t look it, she’s a couple of years older than me which means she treats me like her naïve little sister sometimes, but being an only child I really don’t have a problem with that, in fact I savour it.

  I’ve never really been one to have a big group of friends, but ever since Scar took me under her wing I’ve never felt alone. Weekends spent with Scar at her house full of misfits have been some of my finest. The café is open six days a week, only closing on Sundays, but being her favourite employee, I nearly always get Saturdays off too. Working ten hour shifts during the week also earns me regular half-days on Wednesdays. Not that I mind working hard when it’s a job I really enjoy. The atmosphere here is always relaxed and casual, the psychedelic décor making it feel fun. The café is a true reflection of Scar’s nature. Nothing ever seems to faze her. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before and I absolutely adore her.

  Seth

  She’s a mystery, the girl behind the counter. She’s so pretty when she smiles so I try to get her to at every opportunity, it’s become my new favourite past time. I used to love to stop by a café and people watch, but these days I’m only interested in watching her. And though I know she has a devastatingly beautiful smile, most of the time it seems false when directed at me. It’s like she reserves the special ones for every other customer. For some reason I have a negative effect on her, I can feel it. Normally that would put me off, but there’s something about this girl that I’m drawn to, something about her girl-next-door demeanour and her casual appearance, that I find really attractive, not in the way you’d think though. It’s strange, I feel like I need to get to know her as a friend. And fuck do I need some friends, or a hobby or something. I’m turning into a regular stalker – coming in for lunch and coffees throughout the day, and staring at her, probably creeping her the hell out.

  It was Monday this week that I first came into this café after following Jim’s map. That’s when I spotted her. Since then I’ve come every day before work for a perfectly brewed morning coffee, and every lunch break for a second one. It turns out that they have really good food here, too.

  Other than the first day when she actually seemed a bit friendly, every time I’ve tried to strike up a conversation with this girl since, she’s brushed me off with a polite little smile. I’m not sure what I’ve done to offend her, or even why it suddenly seems so important that I get to know her better, but it does. So I find myself unable to stop. Trying to work her out helps keep my mind off Emma and that’s a good thing.

  Bianca

  “You should ask him out,” Scar says out of the blue as I’m cleaning up at the end of the day. Tomorrow’s Australia Day and I have the whole long weekend off, I’ve been distracted by thoughts of what to do with myself for the next three days and not paying attention to the straggling customers at all. I look around the almost empty café and only see three people seated at the odd chairs surrounding the chrome tables dotting the room. Two are women and the third person, a man, looks to be about sixty.

  I look at Scar, the question evident on my face, “who?”

  “The suit from earlier. He was checking you out again.” She practically sings that last bit. “So ask him.”

  “Scar!” I exhale, my tone one of warning. She knows that I don’t like being told what to do in my personal life and I especially hate when she tries to set me up.

  “What? You know as well as I do that you want a man in your life.”

  “That may be true, but I will not be asking out that suit, or any other man for that matter!”

  “But why not? You don’t have to wait around for the guy to ask you. You do know it’s not the bloody eighteenth century, right?”

  “I know that,” I mumble and I roll my eyes. “I’ve just never asked a guy out before,” I add ashamedly, unable to lie to her. I can’t help honesty tumbling from my mouth when I really should keep it shut. It’s a curse.

  “Oh B, you have no need to be shy about it. Any single, hot-blooded male that you ask out would consider it a privilege to say yes to you. Besides, it’s been months since you kicked Dean out on his sorry arse, you must be horny as hell!” She laughs and gives me a wink.

  “I get by,” I mumble to her when she nudges my shoulder, forcing my reply. Scar lets out an almighty laugh and shakes her head.

  “I can’t believe you would choose a BOB when you could easily find a willing participant for the real deal,” Scar whispers in my ear so that the customers don’t hear. For that I am at least grateful, even though I’m still totally embarrassed by this whole conversation. I usually don’t talk about this kind of stuff, let alone in public and definitely never without a couple of drinks in me first. And I most certainly regret telling Scar about my BOB in one of those drinking sessions. See? Honesty is a curse, particularly when Scar’s involved.

  “I want a real relationship, Scar. If all I was after was a ‘willing participant’ I could always go to Matt,” I say sarcastically.

  “Yeah, well, don’t even get me started on that one,” she says with a little disgust in her tone. She gives a fake body shudder. “Alright then,” she sighs, “if Mr. Right is who you’re looking for, I’m gonna help ya find him.”

  And that’s when I know I’m in real trouble. When Scar sets her mind on something there’s no point trying to fight her. “Scar no!” I argue anyway. The only response she gives me is a mischievous smile. Now I’m going to have to put up with her screening every customer and friend of a friend, as the potential man for me. Shit!

  ***

  I decide to have a quiet night in. Usually Scar and her husband Ben, would have me and all of their friends over on a Friday night, but as it’s a long weekend they’ve gone to visit Scar’s parents in Healesville for three days. So ‘Fish and Chip Friday’ at home alone it is. I pick up my dinner and consider downloading a movie to watch as I make my way home. When I enter and close my front door, the deafening silence of my house weighs heavily on me. I quickly walk to the lounge room and switch on the TV, just for some noise.

  I moved out on my own when I was just eighteen and, other than the five months that I shared with Dean, I’ve lived on my own ever since. Occasionally friends would stay over after having a few drinks or whatever, my previous boyfriends would sleep over from time to time as well, but generally I’ve spent my whole adult life living alone. I liked living on my own, I was used to it, but something changed when Dean moved in. I became accustomed to the company and since he left I’ve found the feel of my empty house unsettling.

  I eat my dinner at the coffee table while flicking channels on TV. Afterwards I have a shower and put on some comfy PJ’s. I play around on my phone and contemplate calling my Mum. She called me earlier in the day, but I was at work so I didn’t answer. I have a strong feeling that she’ll be calling me back any minute now and I know she’ll complain that I didn’t return her call, as she always does. I don’t particularly want to speak to her, but I also know I can’t avoid her for too long either.

  “Hello?” she answers on the second ring.

  “Hi Mum.”

  “Oh Bianca, I was just about to call you. I didn’t think you were ever going to call me back,” she says in a whiny voice. And there she goes, complaining again.

  “I was at work, sorry.”
>
  “Right. Where are you working now?” she asks, in her usual condescending tone that I hate.

  “Mum, you know where I work,” I reply bitterly.

  “Still at the café?”

  “Yes Mum.” I roll my eyes.

  “Well, I never know with you, now do I?” I don’t respond to her. Yes, I’ve had a lot of jobs but she knows how happy I am working at Scar’s, I’ve told her more than enough times. “Hello?”

  “Yes, Mum, I’m still here,” I reply haughtily.

  “How have you been?” she says, oozing sweetness suddenly.

  “Really good.” I fake enthusiasm.

  “And have you been up to anything exciting lately?”

  “No, not really.”

  “No? Nothing?”

  “No Mum. I’ve just been working, I haven’t been doing much else.”

  “Oh well, dear, I’m sure your love life will pick up soon.” What? How come she always brings the conversation back to that?

  “I’m happy being single,” I answer defensively, knowing in my heart it’s not true. But damned if I will admit it to my mother - she who thinks happiness only stems from the relationship you’re currently in, and since I’m not in one I must be unhappy.

  “Oh Bianca, don’t be ridiculous! Nobody’s happy being all alone.” See?

  I feel my face heat with anger and I grit my teeth to hold back the expletives I want to rain down on her. I swear she only rings me to push my buttons! She’s so infuriating! I try my best to ignore her comment and change the subject.

  “What’s new with you, Mum?”

  “Weeelllll,” she draws the word out and then pauses dramatically for effect, “Jack and I have decided to go on a cruise!” She practically yells down the phone with excitement.

  “Wow that sounds great!” I try to replicate her sentiment.