Eternal Love: Beynika Oneshots

If You Need Me

Onika M.
Harlem, NY

The smell of roasted coffee beans was torturous to my throbbing head. I hadn't considered the location I'd chosen to meet my new dealer, some white kid who I'd met at the same location for the last six mornings. My night had come to a screeching halt after I'd crashed from overdosing on red wine and weed smoke. Just like my stuffed cone, my life was going up in flames. I wasn't the one to deal with stress well, and the stress of losing it all had come crashing down on me like a ton of bricks.

Walking deeper into the café, I held my head high with the little pride that I had left. I felt as if everyone could see my demons. They followed me around everywhere I went these days.

"Thank you," I yelled over my shoulder at the lady who had just opened the door for me.

I didn't bother even glancing in her direction, simply thankful for her generosity. Taking a peek at the crowd this morning, I decided that it was better to grab myself a cup of tea at least. I didn't want to seem suspicious, simply sitting and waiting until he showed.

"Shit," I whispered, staring at the menu while it stared back at me.

The deep brown wood that surrounded it made the hand-drawn letters and prices pop out like sore thumbs. A single cup of tea was four dollars and some odd change that I could not afford at the moment.

In fact, I was down to my last seven dollars, praying that I could make something shake within the next twenty-four hours so that I wouldn't have to hear the roaring of my stomach by the time I had finished my leftovers from the fridge. Sucking my teeth and rolling my tongue across the front four, I decided to take a cup of water and a muffin, instead.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, a blueberry muffin and a cup of water, please?" I responded to the polished barista with perfect blonde curls.

From the smile on her face, I sensed that her life couldn't have been as shitty as mine. I could smell happiness leaping from her skin. We looked around the same age, twenty-five. Yet, life for me had happened, and it seemed to be treating her fairly well.

"Anything else?" She hesitated while grabbing a clear cup. "And a name?"

"Onika." I cleared my throat.

"Excuse me?" She chuckled, marker ready to stain the cup with my government.

"O-neek-a." I broke my name into pieces so that she could better comprehend. I guess blondes really weren't very brainy.

"Great. Got it. Anything else?"

Almost ashamed, I nodded and added. "Yes. Lemons, please. Lots of them."

"How many is a lot, exactly? Three or four? Six or seven?"

Damn, Heather. I thought to myself, praying no one heard us. Heather wasn't even her name, but she looked like a Heather, so that's what I called her. In my head, at least.

"Eight." I slid my tongue across my teeth, again. Thanks to Heather, everyone knew that I had plans of utilizing the water and lemons trick in order to create a treat that was a bit tastier than the beverage itself. Lemonade. That's what I had plans to make, sure that I'd be waiting another twenty minutes for my person to show face.

"That'll be one fifty-two." She read off my total as I sighed in relief.

I'd brushed against the line of my budget, but not too far. It wasn't anything that I couldn't handle. Digging into the pocket of my favorite jeans, I retrieved two of the seven dollars I had inside. After the initial exchange, she gave me further instructions.