More Coffee.

Chapter 2: Pie

We sat there for a stunned thirty minutes until he stood abruptly and said as if he were addressing the king, "I think it's time for some pie." I gave him a confused look as he reached behind the counter and pulled out an entire pie and a fork. He unwrapped the saran wrap around the pie and began to eat. He made an almost smacking sound as he ate fork bite by fork bite.

"How long has that been there? I didn't even know you guys sold pie?" I asked confused as I stood and walked up to him. He didn't look up from his pie but he turned on a protective face.

"Look, you're not getting any." He said angrily and turned around, still scarfing down his pie. It was silent in the coffee house, not a sound except for the sound of him eating and the clock's ticking.

"Did I ask for any?" I said bitterly before I slid over the counter, my foot catching on the ledge and making a very ungraceful landing on the floor, face down. I stood before I could be more embarrassed and opened one of the many cabinets. I looked through a few until I found a large shelf filled the exact same pristine white mugs with the coffee central logo printed on. I pulled one down and turned to Al, still looking stupid as he ate his pie. "You don't mind if I make a cup of coffee?" I asked as I turned on the coffee machine and the heavenly smelling and rich brown looking coffee poured it into my mug.

"No! Put the coffee down!" Al yelled with pie still in his mouth.

"Why?" I looked at him weirdly before taking a sip of the hot hazelnut coffee. It slipped down my throat and almost immediately I felt my brain wake from it's still half asleep conscious.

"Did you not hear me! Put the cup down! Your not allowed back there, and we need to save our provisions." Al marched over and yanked the cup out of my hand, I tried to protest but he didn't listen. "We need to save all our food and drinks."

"Says you! Your the guy eating a whole pie by himself." I said bitterly.

"Just because of that you're losing your coffee." Al looked me straight in my eyes and without a hesitation he poured it onto the floor. His face was an image of pure hatred as he looked at me, it always seemed to be that way between us and yet I never understood. But I was always too tired to care so I joined him in his hatred.

"Wow real mature!" I yelled angrily, I chastised myself for ruining the few sentences me and Al shared that weren't yells of hatred. But I couldn't stop now, his eyes burned with anger as he yelled and the only response I could think of was yelling straight back.

"Now get out from behind the counter! Now!" He had yelled so fiercely I was stunned, all of a sudden I felt like a small child being sent to their room for drawing on the wall. "I said get out!" He yelled again, this time I moved but in a slow blocky manner. I climbed over the counter and stood in front of him with my head down. "What's that?" Al asked, his voice had calmed down to normal volume but it still held an edge of anger. I didn't see when, but he had put down his pie, now he was gesturing with his finger to my scrunched up sweater. A sliver of skin peeked out, I quickly pulled down my sweater to cover the long thin white scar.

"It's nothing." I whispered, I walked away and curled up on the yellow leather couch. It sinked in as I sat down, my emotions had made a quick transaction. No longer was I angry, but filled with shame and pain.

"Well it was definitely something." Al scoffed, he folded his arms over his chest to create an image of superiority.

"Can you just forget it. Let's just focus on the we're locked in problem." I sighed. I curled up on the couch and stared out the window at the white blanket. "Just let it go." I whispered to no one. I wondered to myself, why did I have to ruin everything, why did I have to ruin the one conversation we had that wasn't screaming even though it was only a few sentences. My thoughts were interrupted by the ticking on the clock, I swear that clock will be the death of me. I curled myself up into an even tighter ball on the couch, I watched from the corner of my eye as Al picked back up his pie and continued to eat. With a heavy sigh I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my novel, "The Ember's Thumbprint". I ran my thumb through the pages, loving leathery feel the paper had. This book was my inspiration; the main character was so free spirited, something I hoped to one day be but I know deep down that that was just a fantasy.

"I'm sorry for yelling." Al muttered. I whipped my head up from my book to see Al standing above me. He said it in a way, a way that reminded me of a child being forced to apologize by his mother.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't make me repeat it." He said softly as he sat down next to me on the couch. I straightened my spine and tried to make eye contact but he refused.

"Thank you for the apology." I said shyly. "Is it okay if I have a cup of coffee now?" I asked meakly, afraid of how he would respond.

"Go ahead." He said softly. I stood from the couch and walked behind the counter. I grabbed another mug and poured another cup of coffee. I took a long sip of the rich liquid and let out a long sigh. "Oh that's the stuff." I heard a small laugh escape from Al's lips but when I looked over he stopped. After a couple more long gulps the dark brown liquid was gone. I sat down the mug and walked out from behind the counter. I caught from the corner of my eye Al giving me a strange look. I couldn't decide if it was either a hate or smitten look. My mind began to wonder, but I was shaken from my fantasy as the television in the corner of the coffee house randomly turned on. My heart skipped a beat as I was not expecting it, we both turned our heads to see the TV open to a news channel. In bold red letters it read "Urgent Message", the screen flipped to a woman anchor. Her face was covered in a fake frown as they all had, she began to speak in a crisp and falsely sincere voice.

"The snow storm, has appeared to be more powerful than we expected. Most parts of England are snowed in, rescue workers are working tirelessly to retrieve the trapped prisoners." As the woman took a small pause for air I heard Al utter a sarcastic comment.

"Wow, I love to be called a prisoner." I let out a small laugh as the news lady continued.

"This task is a very difficult situation with few hands to help. The soonest the trapped civilians can be saved is 3 days. If any of those trapped survivors are listening, England is rooting for you to hang in there. Have a wonderful Christmas." With a final false smile from the news lady the TV snapped off. My heart had sunk, my hopes had died, and now maybe I will. I turned to Al with a sorrowful face prepared to share comforting words. But instead he held a face of pure hatred for that news lady.

"Only a few hands to help." Al put on a rude mimicking tone as he repeated what she had said. "Easy for you to smile about that your not one of the "prisoners" stuck inside for three days over Christmas." He put quotation fingers when he said prisoner. He stood with a force and dumped the half empty pie bin on the counter with a thud. I cringed when I saw his outraged face, afraid of what he might do next. "This is b.s." He leaned on the counter and brushed one of his black curls out of his face.

"Well it is what is, we're stuck her for three days so get comfy." I said softly as I too leaned on the counter and averted my eyes from his face. I took in my surroundings, I took it all in, and to be brutally honest it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. Let's just say inconvenient.