Bittersweet Love I

            It must have been a Thursday. I’m pretty sure I just got out of school and then picked up my pay check. It was around two and I went to that coffee shop that I had been going to for a couple months. I forgot the name of it, but it’s that one that’s up on federal hill. It wasn’t a very popular coffee shop, but they had the best beans in town.

            Most of the time when I went in there, it was empty. On a busy day, one or two people might walk in while I nurture my bittersweet love, but none of them stayed. That day was different, however. That day, I remember, kind of. There was already someone there.

            I walked in and smiled at her as I walked past her. She didn’t look up from her notepad. At that point I was determined to get her to notice me, even if it required to make an ass of myself. That would require nothing more than for me to act normal.

            I went to the counter and placed two dollar bills down. I rang the little bell ten times. The girl that worked there peeked around from the back and receded again. She came out a moment later with a small coffee and a large cup.

            “Thanks.”

            I sat directly across from her. She didn’t look directly at me, but I could tell she was paying some small amount of attention to me. While bobbing to the hip coffee house music, I took out the ingredients from my bag. I poured the small coffee into the larger cup. I added some honey and maple syrup. Some chocolate and peanut butter sauce. Can’t forget the butterscotch. Whole mile and nothing less. When I pulled out the cinnamon stick and the little grater, I knew I had her. I even made eye contact.

            “Hi,” I smiled.

            She put down her notepad and her pen and stared at me with no expression.

            I returned the gaze and stopped grating. “This is the part where you ask me what I’m doing.” She picked up her tools and started writing again. “You see, I make the best coffee in the world.” I stirred the nectar of the gods with a spoon and slid it across the table. “I bet it beats your French vanilla’s ass.” That got a grin out of her, so I took a chance.

            “Let’s make it a bet,” I said. “If your coffee tastes better than mine, I’ll go sit over there and let you finish writing. If my coffee is better, then you actually open your mouth and say something to me.” She sighed and shrugged at me.

            I lined up the two cups next to each other and made a motion with my hands for her to drink them. First she took a sip from her cup and put it back down. She smelled my cup and gave me a funny look. She took a sip and put the cup back down.

            As she slid the French vanilla across the table to my side, she said, “It’s my coffee now.”

            At that point I wasn’t sure who had won. I held out my hand and she shook it. “We’ve met before. We used to go to school together. You’re name’s Donnie, right?”

            I stroked my beard a couple of times. “My name is Donnie, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

            “I’m Gwen.”

            “Gwen? As in Guinevere? Or, as she would have said it, Gwenhwyfar, which is composed of the elements gwen meaning ‘fair, white’ and hwyfar meaning ‘smooth’. In Arthurian legend she is the beautiful wife of King Arthur. Her betrayal of her husband with Mordred prompted the battle of Camlann, which led to the deaths of both Mordred and Arthur. Later versions of the legends tell of her adulterous affair with Sir Lancelot.” I took a sip of my cold, half finished French vanilla. “Or, I can just call you Gwen.”

            She put her notepad back into her bag and asked me, “Do you know a lot about names?”

            “Oh, sure. Take my name for example. Donnie is derived from Donatello. He was a great teenage ninja. He was a master with the bo staff and the ways of science. With his three brothers, he spread throughout the lands order and peace. They even taught youths about discipline, morals, and teamwork.”

            She laughed a beautiful laugh and shook her head. “And, he liked pizza.”

            “Loved pizza.”

            After that we talked about ninja turtles. Then we talked about ninjas and pirates. We talked about Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt. But, more important than any of that: We got to know each other.