I Found Home [Completed]

Chapter Thirty Two

The aesthetic is definitely pleasing. It's pretty small, but it has somewhat of a retro and business-like atmosphere to it, as well as an almost hippy feeling.

I continued analyzing the small coffee shop as Rebecca and I walked in, the wind chime outside humming as the dry wind hit them. Glass windows everywhere made the coffee shop seem fragile, yet so calming at the same time. People in the shop stared at me for a while, and I suspected it was because of my bright hair color inside of such a bland and smoky colored area. Walls above the counter had words scribbled in chalk.

"I'll get a table, and you can order," Rebecca said a little quietly, aware of my awed trance. "I'm okay with anything here."

"Yeah, alright," I replied just as quietly as her, my eyes wondering.

Her presence disappeared as she shuffled to a small booth in the back corner of the shop. A barista waited for me as I strolled up to the counter slowly, staring. I didn't realize how much I miss everyone at the coffee shop in Paris. Philip, Luna, Brent, Manager Kim... hell, even the annoying group of perverted baristas! My eyes finally settled on the barista in front of me, a freckled-teenage boy that was clearly content with working at such a place.

"Hello! How may I help you today?" He asked in a chirpy and Australian-accented voice.

"Hi," I said. Browsing the filled chalkboards, I looked back at the barista awkwardly. "Uh, actually, do you have any recommendations for lunch? Perhaps maybe something that could fill up an always hungry female being?"

Thankfully, the barista cracked up at my joke. "I assume you mean that girl that came in with you?" I nodded, a slight smile on my face. "Ah, I definitely love the BLTs here. The bacon is actually really well-cooked in the kitchen, and the slices of bread come from loaves that are baked here as well. There's an offer for a BLT and a side dish, choosing between potato wedges to a salad to anything else on the menu under $3.00. The whole thing could be under $10.00, depending on your options."

"Wow," I said, my eyes wide, "Those are some pretty great prices."

"So I've been told," he remarked proudly.

"I'll take two BLTs and a side of two large potato wedges, thanks."

"Any drinks?"

"Two vanilla mochas. That'll be it."

After a small conversation with the barista, I paid for our food and dragged my luggage to the table where Rebecca sat peacefully, watching the TV to her left.

"You seemed pretty in awe of this coffee shop," Rebecca commented sweetly as I sat down across from her.

Her hands grabbed mine, holding them gently as she played with my fingers. "It just makes me realize how much I miss the others in Paris," I replied, looking up at her. "Don't you miss them too?"

"Yeah," she whispered. She looked back at me, her eyes shining. "But once we find your family again, we can call them and tell them about our weird journey here."

"You're right.." I murmured, looking back down at our entwined hands. "I can't wait to hear them again. They've been my only family up until then."

I felt Rebecca lean over, and my eyes glanced up to see her face in front of mine. As always, her brown eyes shined kindly as she stared into my gaze, a sparkle of a smile on her face. I felt my heartbeat accelerating tremendously at our close proximity. With her lips dangerously close to mine, she broke the ice with a soft whisper.

"You have me now," she said quietly, her hand gripping mine, "and I hope to the skies above that I am enough to make up for their distant presence."

My hand went up to her face, holding it gently and making her peer at me, as I responded to her wish. "You don't have to worry about that, Rebecca. For me, you're more than enough."

~~~

"Oh really?"

After finishing our lunch, Rebecca and I decided to sit at the seats of the counter to get some drinks. Rebecca had been in a conversation with the barista that took our order and slyly mentioned my previous job as a barista myself. The teenager quickly became interested in what I could do and let me behind the counter.

"He can draw birds, he can draw hearts, he can draw flowers," Rebecca rambled, almost as if she were a proud mother. "Sam's one of the best baristas I know."

"I'm one of the only baristas you know," I replied, grabbing a tin cup of cream from the counter.

"Ehah. Right."

Intrigued, the teenage barista watched as I gently poured the cream into the cup of coffee. It brought me back to the reason I had become a barista myself. Of course, I needed a job to get to California, but I also became a barista because not only would I be just that, but I would be both a chef and an artist in one. That way of seeing the job fascinated me, even as a little kid. I guess being a barista was all I ever wanted. Putting the cup down in front of the two awed faces before me, I placed the cup of cream back on the counter.

"Ya like it?"

The picture on the coffee had become somewhat of a mock Mona Lisa, and even though it wouldn't have been as good as the original, it was close enough.

"Wow!" The teenage barista exclaimed, looking up at me inadmiration. "You sure know a lot, man! Maybe someday you could teach me?"

"That's if I decide to come back here, which I most likely will," I responded with a hint of mystery. "It takes more than just skill, just so you know. Passion has an important factor." I looked up at the clock and stood up from my leaning position. "Well, we should probably get going now."

"Ah, okay!"

Rebecca clumsily gathered our luggage, and we wished the barista farewell as we headed to our next destination.