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I sit upright so that I can see the trash cans in the rear view mirror more precisely. Taking a deep breath I slowly and very carefully reverse the old tattered car, making sure I don't hit the trash cans for the gazzilionth time. I groan out loud when I hear the loud trash cans rattle to the ground, "Motherly, Fudges of all Gummy bears!"
"Bambi You hit it again!" The short woman who smudged her short genes on me shouts from a kilometre away.
"I know Mom!" I try to move forwards but it seems that one of the trash cans got stuck beneath the car.
"You gonna clean it all up!" The tall man who was very selfish when handing out his tall genes shouts from behind his magazine.
"I know Dad!"
"Stop shouting! You are waking the whole neighborhood up you stupid wits," I sigh when Mrs. Tatu, our neighbor, pops her head out of her gate. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt and some knee length pants, something you don't see people wearing when its -5°C outside, and the amount of times I've told the woman to wear a sweater seemed almost absurd.
I open the car door, my fleshy leg dropping off first. To say I don't admire it every time it does something useful, (well anything really) would be an understatement. I admire it farther more before dragging my un-fleshy leg out from the car. The chilly air instantly makes my teeth chatter making me turn to glare at Mrs. Tatu who was innocently smiling at me knowing fully well that she was about to receive a lecture. Even with her old age, her hair was darker and healthier than mine bouncing gracefully off her small shoulders down to her curvy hips. Honestly she was way more prettier and healthier than me. Perks of being Maori I guess. They never age. She was one of the reasons I've always wanted to dye my blonde hair black.
"Mrs. Tatu! How many times have I told you to wear a sweater! You are gonna catch a very bad cold! Then you are going to come to me whining about how cold England is, then..." I stop when she sarcastically rolls her eyes at me and flicks some of her hair behind her shoulders in the most sassiest manner that I gasp in I could say more awe than shock.
"I'm not going to catch a cold Hales Adams! Like look at me 45 and still rocking!" She does a small twirl, her long hair circling around her like a hola hoop and I nearly drool at how healthy and vibrant it looks. I subconsciously touch my dry roots.
"Its 54 Tatu! If you keep on reversing your young age next year its going to be 65!" A small smile makes its way on my lips when her eyes widen in horror.
"Oh no, no, no, no!"
Even though she pretends she is all bad ass in the cold, her chattering teeth give it away. I take off my cardigan and hand it to her, she denies it at first but I force her to take it. Not only because I care for her but because she gets quite annoying when she is sick.
"Hamis left this morning, I'm so bummed you never got the chance to meet him," She winks at me, suggesting her son as a potential bachelor. I flick off the conversation because I was not ready for grown people talk and this Hamis came for like two days and left straight after.
"Did I ever tell you how absolutely jealous I am of you Mrs. Tatu!?" She smiles, and I loved how she always smiled and how her eyes crinkled around the edges when she did. I start fretting with the groceries and as if on que, mom pops her head out of the front door,"Bambi bring the groceries in!"
"Yes Mom! Bye Mrs. Tatu!"
"Please come for coffee later," she gives me her award winning puppy eyes making me instantly walk away from her before they forced me to stay. "No can do! Have a shift at the coffee bar today," she sighs and slowly nods her head still giving me the eyes, "Not going to work Tatu!" I watch as her tall elegant body retrieves back into the house leaving the front door open on purpose, "Im not coming Tatu!"
I manage to carry all the five bags of groceries while gracefully walking to the front door. Gracefully in this context consisted of a half crooked walk and a girl struggling to carry all five bags with no help from the man reading his newspaper on the poach about 5 centimeters away; I was walking very gracefully indeed. The Queen of England should come and take lessons from me.
I dump the bags in front of the door with a huge sigh, which doesn't catch my dad's attention . I sigh louder and he chuckles but pretends to be unfazed. "Hey Bambi," he whispers behind his newspaper. "H. E. L. P! Spells help your poor child carry these in!" I point towards the heavy bags laying by the door. Why does she even need so much groceries!?
"It actually spells help! Not help your poor child carry these in! I thought you won the spelling bee when you were eight" I smile as my dad walks towards me and places a soft kiss on my head.
"You know you two should stop treating me like a baby, Im 24! Soon Im gonna get a boyfriend- dad don't you dare scare him!" I point towards the blonde men with a serious face. Dads one of those overprotective dads, like more overprotective then my arab friends dad. I've had only two boyfriends since I was born and they've all managed to run away with the same excuse; Your Dad scares me!
"You have a shift at the coffee Bar today, want me to drop you there?" He completely ignores my warning, and changes the topic, which was his profession.
"Of Course blondie!"
....
I should have driven myself, I am very capable yet the blondie persisted that he drove me because he "loved me so much" when in reality he just didn't want me damaging his car any more. My dads driving skills were the worst! Mine were better even though I had a prosthetic. I was never going to be used to all the sudden stops that make you fly off your seat all the way towards the bonnet, and the continuous yelling and cursing even though I've had to endure it my whole life.
"Darling- You Stupid Father of all Fucktards! You should try - I swear I dont even know how you got a license - decreasing the number - This is why donkeys should never be on the road - Too many shifts darling!" I did understand him through all the cursing and yelling pause the lecture, etc. I still understood him, maybe I was used to this chaotic driving of his.
"Dad... I was thinking..." he glances over at me very quickly, raising his eyebrows which were silently telling me to continue with my sentence before cursing at a poor man again. "I should move into my own place, I feel like Im being a burden to you and mom," he slams the brake furiously and snaps his head towards me, his hair falling all over his face.
"What!?"
"Yeah... um there is this place just across like three streets and Um.... Its very cheap and I can afford it," I refuse to look at his eyes, too afraid to look at his expression. "No," just like that he slams his leg on the accelerator and we fly again. "What!? Dad Im 24! Im legal! Im supposed to have my own apartment! Im too dependent on you and mom!" This time he scoffs but doesn't look at me, "Dependent!? Says the girl who doesn't want any help from us! And has like ten jobs and still wants more because she doesn't want to be a burden to us," he emphasizes on the last bit. "Dad, I promise I will come to meet you everyday! Every morning! Every Night! Its not even that far!" He sighs and shakes his head, curses at a guy, gave them the middle finger and looked back at me again with a sad expression.
"Hales you are not a burden to us, I have no idea why you think you are and I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but you are our everything, you hear me? Our everything. You burdening yourself to "un-burden" us isn't helping us at all!" I frown and look outside the window, kind of mad that they still make decisions for me. I get why they are so attached, after nearly losing me once they want to keep me closer than ever. They should move on, I know I haven't and I don't think I ever will but we all have to move on eventually.
"We'll talk about this when we are at home, we've reached the coffee bar," I nod my head and walk out of the car waving goodbye, he waves back and as I walk away I can hear his sad sigh.
The coffee bar was a small place hidden in a dark narrow way, away from everything and everyone. You'd think its a gang hideout, which it is partly because me and the rest of the crew called ourself the Coffee Gang.We rarely get a lot of customers, just the same old customers who are now like family. I guess we don't even want new customers, because Sam invented a secret entry code. You can't enter the coffee bar without three knocks and a kick on the door. I knock on the door three times, kick the door and enter. I don't even know what was the point of the code when the door to the Coffee Bar was always open. The strong smell of coffee dances around my nostrils as I enter, making me sigh and close my eyes. This never gets old.
"You know what! I'm tired of them misrepresenting muslims! Like yes we wanted representation but not this type! We don't need representation anymore if this is what they are making us do!" Hannah, our usual customer yells at the television.
"Right! Like I know for sure thats wrong because that one time I passed in front of you when you were praying you slapped me into another dimension but that bitch is literally dancing in front of him!" Daniel , the laziest worker, well we all were, was helping her bash the television show.
"They should cast me because I'm a hijabi and I won't take it off for a man and most importantly I'm muslim!" Daniel nods and there conversation is shortly cut off when Hannah notices me standing by the door.
"Hey Haleeess!"
"Haless!"
"Hales is here!"
"All Hail Hale!"
I laugh at the commotion they make every time a crew member enters the bar. Sam skates towards me and professionally swings the apron around my waist, I mouth him a thank you before walking towards Daniel who was already standing next to Anna, busy making coffee for himself. The agility Daniel had when it came to food and coffee seemed to always surprise me.
The thing I like about this place was they never gave me extra attention because of my lack of two legs, they didn't call me dear, they called me Hales, just like everyone should! Why I work here when the pay is extremely low? Well the Coffee gang were my only friends, friends who didn't just want to be friends with me to show sympathy but friends because they liked me for who I was, not the mutant I was.
I walk over to Hannah and sit next to her on the coach and frown at the awful misrepresentation the television show had on muslims, it made Hannah keep sighing in desperation, like she needed it to change, she wanted to change it. She came here so often she was basically a customer who did charity work by helping us out sometimes. There were more workers than customers in this place but we've never heard the owner complain, he said he liked this place just the way it was. With four lazy workers and usually three customers on a good weekday.
Sam skates towards me again and points towards a corner. I look over at where he was pointing and realize we have a new customer in here which instantly makes me jolt up from the coach in excitement. "We nearly hit him with a frying pan when he entered without the code, but he ducked as soon as he saw it and we all liked him," I nod my head as Sam tells me the short legendary story about the mysterious guy looming in the dark. I don't even know when was the last time we got a new customer on a weekday, the only time we get lots of customers is the weekends and today wasn't it.
"Why is he sitting all the way there?" We were still looking at him as we talked, looking like a bunch of nosy midgets. Hannah yells an "Astaghfirrulah!" behind us before switching off the tv show.
"Said he wants to stay away from everyone and everything," I roll my eyes at how dramatic that sounded but my breath nearly chokes me when he suddenly raises his head and his dark eyes stare right into mine, like right into mine, not Sam's, mine and they were so intense I had to touch my forehead because I felt like they were drilling a hole into my head. I quickly look away and fiddle with some coffee beans before I am annihilated.
"How'd he know this place?" He just caught us staring at him, I feel embarrassed to even move. "We don't know, but its Okay we need more crew members you know," I nod still playing around with coffee beans that were just casually laying on the coach. That's some good restaurant hygiene right there but I had no one to blame behind the spilled beans on the coach.
"We get a lot of family members on weekends," now that I was thinking about it, we didn't really need this guy, he looked really creepy. He was probably a murder who found a dark alley way to hide in and ended up here and now he is actually preparing a master plan to annihilate all of us because we figured out...well I figured out what he has done.
"They aren't close and plus only family members come on weekdays," he whispers behind me, making the whole situation seem even more frightening. I turn around to push him away from me because he was purposely close to make me feel scared but I end up getting even more scared when a deep voice speaks from behind me making us both jump.
"Hey?" His face was tilted downwards but his blue eyes were pierced on us, the hoodie he was wearing made a mask like shadow around his eyes and all of that combined was giving me a psychotic vibe, my theory might not be so far fetched from true. The few strands of hair that hang around his eyes were so rough it made me have the urge to just comb his whole head neat because I had a thing with untamed hair. I tilt my head, even though he gave me psychotic vibes, something about him was very familiar and I did not know any psychopaths.
"We were not talking about you!" Sam, shouts in defense and I find myself jumping into the defensive mode as well because if he were truly a serial killer, I'd better play safe, "Pfft why would we!?" He chuckles, deep and masculine, "You guys were totally talking about me," he looks at me as he talks, his eyes drowning into mine. Even when Sam says something completely unnecessary, his eyes don't move, fixated on my face. He used a laidback tone, maybe he was a laidback serial killer and maybe today wasn't his kill day. " Id like more black coffee please," I nod my head absentmindedly and move away from him.
I turn to look at him again just to catch him staring at me, his eyes unmoving. A shiver runs down my spine making me take in a huge breath; maybe it was his kill day after all. I quickly turn back around and start to make his black coffee, plus only psychopaths drink black coffee.
When Im done making the coffee I carefully turn around to ensure that I am not met with his dark eyes again, I'm not about to be the first on that list of his, but he was no longer there, already hidden in his dark corner. I sigh in relief, "Sam you go give it to him, something about him is....." I couldn't really complete the sentence because I was scared he'd hear me so I just gave the cup to Sam.
"Let me finish that sentence for you, something about him is scary, he is sitting in a dark corner alone, wearing a big ass hoodie and he looks dirty. Yeah I'm not risking my life, the world still needs me, so yeah you go," he places the cup back into my hands and skates far away from me as possible. So it was just me, some horrid black coffee and a man who probably wanted to kill me. The distance between the brewer and his table seemed infinite. I was walking slowly, my hands were vigorously shaking but I refused to turn back for some reason.
"Conquer your fears, don't stereotype hoodie wearing people Hales, you've got this! You are a bad gummy bear!" I intake a deep breath when his face comes into view, his eyes already drilling a hole into my head. He smiles, I blink not quite sure how to react. The joker also smiles right?
"Are you scared of me?" His strong yet too British accent snaps me out of my daze.
"No..noo! What!? Noo!" I lean down to hand him his black coffee, his cold hands briefly touch mine when taking his mug and I nearly faint at how scary that interaction was. Only psychopaths have cold hands right? Its -5°C outside but I'm sure my hands aren't that cold.
"Dont be, Im a nice guy," I nod my head, nice guys didn't have to tell people there were nice. I try to move but my fear keeps me rooted on the spot. My incapability to move was how I reacted to scary situations apparently, which was dangerous. I watch him as he sip his coffee, his eyes concentrated on me. He had an attractive face but you'd have to look at him for a long time under that hoodie of his to realize that. He also looked really familiar.
"Stop staring at me," I whisper when he doesn't move his eyes away from my face, which was hypocritical because I was also staring at him for the longest time trying to figure out where I've seen this man before. Maybe if he just took off that hoodie of his I'd have known.
"You are staring at me too," my cheeks heat up and I abruptly turn around. Sam was busy making some coffee and Hannah was wearing her cardigan about to leave but no one was worried that I was about to be murdered by an apparently attractive psychopath.
"Can you please sit?" I breath in, maybe he was actually a nice guy, he used please so that's good. That made me imagine him saying Please may I kill you? I snap out of it and turn around to look at his hand that was gesturing towards the seat opposite to him. I oblige and sit down, my hands vigorously shaking, I hold them down on my lap so that he doesn't see my fear.
I look back at him "I like your green eyes," I nod and register his eyes, they were blue, pretty but very intense. I couldn't keep back the question that was the only reason I was sitting opposite to a potential serial killer. "You have a very familiar face, have we met?" He smiles.
"Maybe..." Maybe usually means yes, so I have met him, and if I do know him that means he isn't a psychopath because last time I checked I have not acquainted any psychopaths. But what if I met him before and he hated me and now he is back to seek revenge? No, that'd be something I would have been aware of already.
I lean towards him so that I can see him more better, one of his blue was darker then the other and he looked like he was very attractive without that hoodie on. "Who are you?" I may be nosy but at least I didn't beat around the bush.
"All those questions make me wonder if you are some sort of detective and I'm a suspect?" He leans back, his eyes still on me.
"Maybe I am a detective," and with that as my last answer I stand up and walk away from him.
"And maybe I am a suspect," I don't turn around at his answer because first, that was a creepy answer and second, I didn't want to meet his tantalizing blue.
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