Long_Distance Coffee

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  IsabellaMartinez1:“The physical stuff”—is that what the cool kids are calling sex these days?

  BlackVelvetBitches: How would I know? I’m twenty-nine and certainly not cool.

  IsabellaMartinez1: You are, compared to me. I’m a few years older than you and thoroughly, unequivocally uncool.

  Erin smiled at her screen.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Nah, you’ve got that cool, hipster coffee on tap. I’m just sleep-deprived, bored, sweaty, and standing around waiting for an old lady in a gym.

  IsabellaMartinez1: That does sound depressing. I, however, realized about an hour ago that I was discussing plots with my three-month old son, and he wasn’t even awake. That must be a new low, surely?

  Erin laughed and heard it echo against the walls of the corner. She looked around, a little embarrassed, but when she was sure that no one was paying attention to her, she went back to her phone.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Why don’t you discuss it with me instead? I might not be more help than the little dude, but at least I’m awake.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Are you certain you are ready for what promises to be a thoroughly dull discourse?

  Erin found herself smiling from ear to ear.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Man, I love the way you talk. Did you swallow a dictionary AND grow up in Victorian London?

  IsabellaMartinez1: Haha, very funny. No. I just had a mother who refused me dessert and playtime if I didn’t speak and write properly. By the time I was an adult, the damage was done, and, ever since, I have found myself shying away from smileys, slang, unnecessary punctuation, and bad grammar. It annoys a lot of people, I’m afraid.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Ah, the strict mother strikes again, huh? Well, I like the way you talk, so shy away from whatever the hell you want. Back to the point: hit me with your dullest discourse. I bet I’ll stay awake.

  IsabellaMartinez1: That’s a very tempting offer, but His Highness is waking up, and it’s time for our afternoon walk to the park.

  Erin just barely managed to keep herself from groaning at the conversation being cut short.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Damn, I can’t compete with a guy who can charm people even if he is asleep and gassy. ;-)

  IsabellaMartinez1: Excuse me, he isn’t just gassy. The doctors also believe he has acid reflux!

  Erin rolled her eyes but knew she was still smiling.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Well, that’s it, then. No one can resist that. :-D

  IsabellaMartinez1: Hey, sarcastic and snarky remarks are MY trademark. And if you met Alberto, you would adore him as well.

  BlackVelvetBitches: I’m sure I would. I mean, I’m not a baby person, but his mom is pretty awesome (so far), and he sounds like a cool guy. Does he need a personal trainer? ;-)

  IsabellaMartinez1: Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think his little muscles are ready for one of your shorts-splitting sessions.

  Erin made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a scoff. This time, she definitely caught one of the old-timers looking over at her. She ignored him.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Hey! Low blow! That was a onetime thing, and only because Riley wears clothes that are tighter than most people’s skin.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Whatever you say. Why don’t you continue writing excuses, while I go to the park with my beautiful offspring? I’m sure I’ll see you online tonight.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Sure. We’ll meet up for some midnight coffee. You bring the belching baby, and I’ll make the beverage.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. Speak to you soon, Miss Black.

  BlackVelvetBitches: See ya, Martinez.

  Erin was just about to close down the chat window, when another message came in.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Oh, and for the record…don’t assume someone is getting “the physical stuff” just because they’re in a relationship. Have a good day, Erin.

  Erin stared at the message with a confused frown. Why would Isabella make a point of hinting that she wasn’t getting laid? Was she scolding Erin for making assumptions about people, or did she want Erin to know about her lack of sex life for some weird reason?

  She sighed. If that perfect-in-every-way-MILF who lived with her boyfriend wasn’t getting any—what chance did she have for sex with her crappy social skills and lack of energy? She wondered if maybe people had simply stopped doing it? No. If they had, Riley would be up in arms by now.

  Suddenly, a whirlwind of flowery scarves over Lycra gym clothes came rushing toward her.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late! Blame that nag of a woman opposite us, Carol Wiles. She stopped me to talk about her daughter’s divorce and made me horribly delayed for everything.”

  Erin looked at Mrs. Mead and swallowed down any comment about calling to say she’d be late. Instead she smiled and said, “Not a problem. Let’s hang those scarves up and get you on a treadmill.”

  Chapter 8

  Coffee at Midnight

  It was nearing midnight. Isabella had made a point of not opening Twitter or Skype all evening. She felt strangely nervous at the idea of speaking to Erin. What on earth had possessed her to mention her nonexistent sex life? Not that she had spelled it out, exactly, but it was certainly there in her statement. If you looked for it.

  She closed her eyes and leant back in the chair. Alberto was asleep. That didn’t surprise her. He’d been boisterous all day and had struggled to sleep during his naps; now he was making up for it. Isabella could only hope his little tummy would let him.

  The room was quiet. Her blanket was draped over her legs, a cup of coffee cooled on the table next to her, and the writing app on her iPad boasted three new chapters for the first draft of her book.

  It had been a successful evening, and Isabella was paying for it now. She had a wicked crick in her neck and tense shoulders from hunching over the iPad while correcting so many words unhelpfully changed by autocorrect.

  She knew she should write on her shiny PC at her desk during the daytime, but today, she had been far too distracted by that brief chat with a certain friendly New Yorker. Besides, when the words started coming in hot and fast, it didn’t matter if she was by a computer or in a dark room hunched over her tablet; she had to make the most of it and write. She could always edit the mistakes later.

  But now, it was done, and she was back to thinking about Erin. She told herself that it was obvious she was fretting over what the woman thought about her simply because she wasn’t socializing. Perhaps she should call an old a friend? Maybe even call Marie back and ask if she was taking any work trips down to Florida? No, I’m not that desperate, she thought and scrunched up her nose.

  She just had to stop overthinking her interactions with Erin and focus on having fun. That was all it was, some fun chat to make the hours of the sleepless nights run faster.

  A little voice in her head pointed out that Alberto was sleeping right now, and by that reasoning, she should be too. If talking to Erin was just a way to pass time, why didn’t she skip speaking with her tonight and get some sleep instead?

  Nevertheless, Isabella couldn’t bring herself to do that. It was nearing midnight, and she was sitting ready, cup of coffee on the table, app opened on the tablet. Staring at her screen. Waiting for Erin.

  The seconds ticked by. Then there was a green dot by Erin’s name, and Isabella typed a quick greeting.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Hello Erin.

  The reply came in right away, satisfying Isabella’s need for affirmation.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Fancy meeting you here, Martinez. :)

  IsabellaMartinez1: Well, I heard this is where you go for midnight coffee.

  Reminded of the drink next to her, Isabella blew on the hot liquid and had her first sip.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Does that mean you have java at the ready?

  IsabellaMartinez1: Java? Who says “java” these days? Are you living in an old film noir?

  BlackVelvetBitches: :-D Maybe I am. Sometimes, late at ni
ght, New York certainly feels like it could be the setting for an old, hardboiled film noir, y’know? I just need a smoking gun and a dame.

  Isabella was relieved that Erin knew what film noir was, unlike Richard, who had little interest in pop culture.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Searching for a femme fatale? That could be dangerous, Miss Black.

  BlackVelvetBitches: That (and caffeine poisoning) happen to be my ways of living dangerously. :-D

  IsabellaMartinez1: Ah, I see. Does that mean that you date…for a lack of a better term…“bad girls?”

  BlackVelvetBitches: Honestly? I haven’t dated for ages. Last woman I was serious about… Well, let’s just say that she screwed me over royally. I guess I didn’t feel it was worth the hassle after that.

  Alberto squirmed and whined a little, and Isabella prayed he wouldn’t wake up now. This was not a point in the conversation where she could just disappear for five minutes.

  She snuck up and twisted the little key that started the mobile above his head. The unicorns slowly turned, and the quiet, slow waltz soothed Alberto. He gave one last squirm and then relaxed back into deep sleep. She sat back down and picked up the iPad.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I’m so sorry to hear that. Might I ask what happened? Or perhaps you don’t want to talk about it?

  BlackVelvetBitches: No, it’s fine. It’s been over a year, so the wounds should pretty much be healed by now. Katie had, well, HAS, some issues. She had an ever weirder childhood than me, and let’s just say that it shows.

  Isabella frowned. She wanted more information, but she wasn’t the type to pry or push people to talk. While she debated whether she should change the topic or not, another message came in from Erin.

  BlackVelvetBitches: I don’t want to bore you with some long sob story, so I’ll just boil it down to the fact that it ended with her stealing most of my money. Oh, and leaving me with a note saying that she had to go find her mother and that I deserved better than her. I haven’t heard from her since. She updates her Facebook sometimes though. Last time I checked, she had found her mom in some small town in Maine, which was nice to hear.

  “Nice to hear?” Isabella said in appalled surprise.

  She realized that she had spoken out loud and drew a sigh of relief when she saw that Alberto hadn’t woken up. It stunned her that Erin could be so gracious to someone who had run out on her and stolen her money not that long ago.

  IsabellaMartinez1: It’s very big of you to be happy for her after what she did to you.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Nah, it’s probably just me being a sap. She meant a helluva lot to me. So no matter how pissed off or disappointed I am in how she left me, I’m glad she found what she was looking for. It was for the best anyway. There were waaaay too many misunderstandings and arguments when we were together. She was always pissed off, and I’ve got this tendency to run and hide when things get serious. Not a good combo.

  Isabella looked deep into her dark coffee and sighed.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Relationships are terribly complicated, aren’t they?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yeah. Screw relationships. Give me a chat with a woman I’ve never met any day. :-D

  Isabella arched an eyebrow, a smirk replacing her scowl.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Are you saying that I’m a substitute for a relationship?

  BlackVelvetBitches: What? Shit, no! That’s not what I meant! I mean, I know you’re in a relationship and probably not into women, so I would never hit on you!

  Isabella gave a subdued scoff. She’d quite like to be hit on. She missed the thrill of being attracted to someone and having that person be attracted to her in return. The occurrence of that was such a rare thing for her, and when it did strike, it was never long-lived.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Relax, Miss Black. I didn’t think you were trying to seduce me.

  She wondered if she should address the issue of her not being into women. The truth was that she’d always been curious and had been attracted to a few women throughout her life. But it had always stayed at just that. Either she’d been in a relationship with a man, or she was focusing all her energy on her studies or her work. Pursuing lovers had always been pretty low on her list of priorities.

  As far as she knew, she’d never been hit on by another woman. Unless some of the friendly gestures she had assumed were platonic had been meant as flirting, and she just hadn’t realized. Society didn’t seem to focus much on teaching you to romantically interact with people of your own sex.

  If a man smiled at her, sat very close, and kept eye contact throughout a conversation, she would probably say he was interested in her. If a woman did the same…well she was either extremely friendly or slightly socially awkward.

  Or so Isabella had thought. For the first time in her life, she wondered if some of the women she had dismissed as friends because they were too intense, had actually been attracted to her. Why had she never stopped to think about this before?

  Erin wasn’t replying. Isabella frowned, as she tried to figure out why. Was Erin trying to find a way to continue the conversation but failing? Was she embarrassed?

  Isabella decided to help in any way she could, even if it meant being more candid than she was comfortable with. She took a deep breath and started typing.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Sorry, I got lost in thought there. I was just realizing that I had always been curious about being with a woman but never been hit on by one. However, maybe that’s because I was so stuck in…what’s the word…heteronormative (?) thinking. Maybe women have been flirting with me, and I just never realized?

  Isabella could see the little pen on her screen, signifying that Erin was typing. Then it disappeared again. There was a long moment’s wait, and then the pen appeared once more.

  She wondered again what Erin was thinking. What had she written and then deleted? Was she annoyed that Isabella had lived her life without accounting for gay women in her life, or was she perhaps still embarrassed over the misunderstanding?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Human interaction, it’s all so freakin’ weird. I spend so much time wondering if a woman would be okay with me flirting that by the time I’ve figured it out, she’s gone! I guess that’s why gay clubs are so nice, you go in there, and you know that even if the women aren’t into women (which is rare) at least they don’t mind being hit on by women. And it’s why I like the Internet. A lot of people will at least hint to their sexual orientation somewhere in their bio. Well, at least if they are LGBTQIA+.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I’d never thought about that. Well, mark me down as not offended if women hit on me. If I even realize they are hitting on me. Not that anything more could happen, of course. I have Richard.

  She had added that last bit as an afterthought. Maybe that went without saying, but she didn’t want Erin to think she was looking for someone to flirt with.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Wow, this got serious. :-D Let’s change the topic. Lemme tell you a joke a client told me at work last week.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I’m not hugely into jokes. But go ahead.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Why do bees hum?

  It took a while before Isabella realized that she was expected to reply.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I don’t know.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Because they can’t remember lyrics. Ba-bom tssh!

  IsabellaMartinez1: That was awful. Painfully awful. And was that supposed to be a rim shot at the end?

  BlackVelvetBitches: Yep. And I don’t know what you’re complaining about; I’m great at dad jokes. Speaking of parents…how’s your lil’ man?

  IsabellaMartinez1: Blissfully unaware of how complicated being an adult can be. He is sleeping surprisingly soundly. He had an active day, so he needs his sleep.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Well, one of us three should get some sleep. Go Alberto!

  Isabella looked at the little boy through the bars of his crib. His small chest was moving fast with his breaths, and she could see that his mouth was slightly open.

&nb
sp; Her heart clenched. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Without filtering her thoughts, she turned back to Skype and just typed what she was feeling.

  IsabellaMartinez1: I wish I could show him to you. He’s sleeping so peacefully, and he’s so sweet that it breaks my heart.

  BlackVelvetBitches: Hmm. Well, I mean, you can. All you gotta do is call me and switch on the camera. Maybe seeing someone sleep like a baby will make my stupid brain wanna sleep too.

  Isabella hesitated. Was Erin just being nice? She had mentioned that she wasn’t much of a baby person, hadn’t she? But Alberto looked so perfect, and he was the thing she was proudest of. It would help Erin understand her and her choices if she could see him.

  IsabellaMartinez1: All right. Just for a moment and then I’ll hang up. I don’t want to bore you.

  BlackVelvetBitches: I’m sure you won’t. Come on, show me your little womb nugget.

  Isabella scoffed but couldn’t help laughing a little.

  IsabellaMartinez1: Not if you refer to him as that!

  BlackVelvetBitches: Fine, fine. Show me the little prince charming.

  Isabella, still smiling, pushed the button to video call Erin. It was going to be a one-sided video call again, and that made Isabella remember the last time, when she had shown her the desk and then made the stupid faux pas of turning the camera on her unkempt self. She wouldn’t be making that mistake tonight.

  As the call connected, Erin spoke right away. She whispered hello, but the whisper was so over the top that it sounded like really bad acting. It was far, far too loud.

  Isabella’s smile grew, and if she hadn’t been forced to be quiet to keep from waking Alberto, she would have laughed and mocked Erin mercilessly for that ridiculous attempt at a whisper.

  Suddenly, she realized that the camera was on but pointed just at the floor. She whispered a greeting back, much quieter than Erin had, and then stood up and pointed the iPad at Alberto. She walked closer, so that Erin could see the details of his little face in the glow of his night-light.

  With maternal pride, she watched him and wished that she could narrate for Erin, point out the perfect, petite nose, and the stunning eyes. Maybe even the little cut on his chin where he scratched himself with one of his tiny fingernails that morning and, of course, the little mouth that would nibble at her shoulder when he was hungry.