… and what name for the coffee?  a short story on finding your way.

published online in 2016 from 2008 manuscript with rights reserved by the Author.

Monday 1 May

People will always brag about the extremities of their own morning rituals. Be they an early riser, a jogger, the first to get a newspaper, the only member of the family up before the dog… but I think we are all just looking for our own tag, a defining moment that sets each day off as we want, a positive start to the day. My name is, I am…well more on that later, and my story begins where another one ended….but like any good yarn, more on that later…

Ever since I was a young boy, I had a fascination with trains. At first it was just the simple fact that a train line ran behind our house. Dad and I would go for a walk and just wait at the bridge to watch for the next train. Pretty soon, I could identify them, not just as ‘old’ or ‘new’ but by class, type and company of operation. The local coffee shop was always to me ‘the train café’ simply because Mum sit with our dog and read the paper and I would sit with Dad and watch trains, watch people, the comings and goings of a Saturday in the middle city suburbs.

And from here, besides my family, my two greatest loves were born, Coffee and Trains.

Every day, be it my school years, university and now ‘the job’, I have stood quietly at the station, steam rising from a warm cup of chocolate or chai or coffee in my hand, watching the world shuffle around me, waiting to be transported to my destination.

The train café, is still there, but has evolved to provide plenty of choice. Today, I’m having a cappuccino, a simple drink honouring a tradition that goes back generations when skilled baristas carefully pour hand-foamed milk over espresso coffee. She had already asked how I am, I think she genuinely cared, but I lied and told her I was OK. She further enquired as to my name and I replied ‘Wilbur’. I understand the retail game, I often ask people how they are as they as sifting through CD’s. If they are about to purchase ’40 greatest songs for the person who has just had there heart ripped out and stomped on by some they loved and trusted’ do I need to ask how they are?

Tuesday 2 May

It has always puzzled me how we are programmed to dread Monday mornings. Well for me it is Tuesday I hate the most. Mondays are bearable, we feel enriched by a weekend, we have footy and movies and purchases to talk about. But then Monday night rolls around, leftovers for tea and then that familiar slump into the couch. The media doesn’t help much, Monday night always has such good TV. They know that very few of us venture out, so they plan a marathon of viewing, a veritable smorgasbord of drama and comedy, but somehow it is so addictive to watch someone else live life rather than a third umpire view of my own.

So back to my Tuesday Phobia, I gave it a real winning edge by sleeping in. It started as a joke, but I do have the Coffee shop number in my cell phone and can pre-order. The walk from my terraced house past the church, through the green zone and under the train line takes the same time as for making a cappuccino, today with a double shot. I race in and throw a fistful of change on the counter and wrap my hands around a warm cup with DAN – Cap 2 SHOT scrawled on the side.

Some of my greatest learnings were from those early days sitting with mum and dad at the café, simple stories, simple concepts, the building blocks for what I am today. In this hustle and bustle, in fact in any hustling bustling situation, Dad always said, find a place to sit and have a cuppa, follow the locals, there is never a need to walk too far to find a warming brew. And just sit. Watch where people are going, sympathise with the stress they carry, empathise with the challenges they may face. But relax and learn from this activity.  Much of Dads advice was cryptic and never really blossomed until that springing moment of relevance; In this case it was not until I travelled through Indonesia after high school that I realised how useful it was to sit and observe how a city functioned before I ventured onwards.

Dad was an engineer, but got out of that when he was offered a job driving for Bayside Rail. I never really understood the huge pay cut he took. But I really didn’t miss him in the mornings and he was always waiting at home for us; that was a bonus for us all especially during the teenage years.

On a weekend, bringing out a cuppa and a biscuit was the only way mum could get Dad and I to take a break from working on the car, at least she could get a few words from us even if it was mostly about early Holden engineering. We loved our family time working on the ride.

Can you love a car? I don’t know but you certainly can put a lot of love and care and time into it, so I suppose you have to get something back. Ancient magicians used to attach a soul, sometimes there own to an item, it gave it (and it’s holder) special powers. It also was a way for a sorcerer to outlast time itself and live on, suspended in time as we know it, yet secured to an amulet of sorts.

A bloke I studied with had a shirt in a glass case, certified ‘held and signed’ by some pro hockey player. He worshiped that shirt, as if the fact that it was touched made it somehow link him to the world series winning goal in extra time…

The car is parked at home, in the shed at the back of the house. It needs a bit of work, but I still carry Dads keys with me every day.

Wednesday 3 May

I think today was the first morning in a long time where I work up alone. Some mornings I woke up by myself, but knew she was in the house, in the shower, fixing breakfast. Even when she stayed at her studio, I knew I’d see her soon.

Today was different, the bed was cold, unruffled and no sign of her. I’d say a few weeks it had been like this but the calendar says Easter was 54 days ago… I thought a newness of life was a cleansing concept only today the fatality of it finally stuck it thorns into my soul.

We were on our way to church with her cousin and chatting about a bumper sticker ‘If you always do what you have done you will always be what you have been…’ I saw a stabling side of this, and perhaps a bit of growth, but she saw a door and ran and ran and ran…

Maybe a change is good sometimes, today, tea white and just a touch of sugar to pep me up and balance out the tannin. Today a chance to sit down. I think the young woman was on work experience, shouting ‘Tea for Jimmy’ I slowly walked over and collected the china cup. I handed her five dollars and sat back down in the well warn velvet sofa near the front window of the shop. I needed some change to.

Thursday 4 May

Today, I came face to face with fragility, well it should have happened yesterday but today was the day. I usually collect my mail from out front of my house when I get home, usually open as a drag my feet the last few steps to the door. It was raining so I raced inside and threw the mail on the sideboard, only to knock an old, empty, vase to the ground. It was nothing sentimental, but still was the perfect appendix to that desk. It took me ages to clean it up and dry the floor, from my wet feet and the very small amount of water from the vase.

So today I opened yesterdays mail on the way to the train. Two with windows, one ‘to the house holder’ and one with a small typed label placed at an angle across the enveloped. I decided that I did not need to get my driveway repainted and the free letterbox was of limited interest. The bank letter held no surprises in the same way that my gas account presented.

The final item was the one that would stir me. My high school had written to each of the students in my graduation class to let us know of the passing of one of our teachers; my teacher. I man whom I had not heard from in years. Not that I needed to, he had done his work, guided, educated, taught me to speak, to laugh, to imagine, to feel, to portray, to create. I gave the stage a bloody good shot but soon found that the music and the technical support was my calling, and this shaped many choices for many, many years. It still gives me goose bumps every time I get to a gig or see a show.

He was on a plane, a honeymoon of sorts with his wife and her children; and had a heart attack. That is it. In a flash every moment spent with my classmates building the shows from ground up came flooding back. I felt his spirit watching over me as I read the letter. I remembered seeing the reflection of his small round glasses in the back row of the auditorium, scrawling notes and could feel that same trusted analytical eye peering down on me know.

I needed warmth, I needed comfort, I needed chocolate. I needed a balance. No sugar, large caffe mocha for Mick please.

The train came and went

without event,

like so many days,

always.

spent.

Friday 5 May

The funniest thing happened today, well really it was terribly awkward, but funny when all was said and done. I know it is wrong to randomly look at pretty women as they wander by, but this was different. No, it was just a look, long, flowing, dark brown curls contrasted against her simple white dress. She had tall, but probably very practical shoes on. Not much else to report but certainly not much left to the imagination. She was taken, that was obvious from the ‘playschool’ backpack she had with her; he was a handful for all of 2 foot tall. I wandered a little closer and that’s when it all turned ‘funny’. Our eyes met, ‘busted’, shock, realisation, remembrance. “Jessy! It has been ages”

We were sweethearts an eternity ago, we had shared special moments and promises, not fantasies of tomorrow, of forever, but heart felt undertaking of today, of the now of how we thought.

We chatted, she introduced me to her little tank engine and to her new prime mover, a very noble and polite gentleman. I noticed no bond of silver or gold amongst them, but not my place to inquire or judge, just a chance to enjoy her company one last time.

We ordered some drinks, I paid.

A frapaucino for Jessy.

I took my cup and took my leave.

Saturday 6 May

Yesterday could have had only one logical finale, BBQ and beverages with a buddy and his Bulldog.

We both have mobile phones, but never know each other’s number. It is much easier to just remember where his spare key is and make sure that the cookout is ready and the fridge is full. I suppose a bonus, he gets points for cooking dinner from his loving wife and I get to enjoy solving all the world’s problems with them both for hours into the night around a glowing fire.

So I got the needed stores and set up his kitchen for him, I took the dog for a run in the park and we were just settling in the back yard under the afternoon sun when he got home.

We made little progress on the dinner before his wife joined us. I retold the events that had lead me to there house (not that I really needed a reason to visit) and then we headed inside for a while. They debriefed on their daily works and I cooked up a storm, or perhaps unleashed a tornado in the kitchen.

We ate, we drank, we chatted and we lay under the stars for a while. You know that if you look at one star, there is not a lot to gain from it. If you join it to another, you get a line, then a triangle, then a square and then you leap into a variety of shapes, of dimensions of depths of perception, new shapes, new interoperations of old shapes and constellations. Bit like the story at hand, on the face quite simple, even when old to them, simple. But when you add a few more points that only I could, it became complex, multifaceted and strangely beautiful.

I woke refreshed and renewed curled up on the sofa with the TV still on and the bulldog snoring safely and comfortably next to me on ‘his’ chair. He easily woke at the mention of a walk and we headed off before we woke the family. I gave him a short run in the park and then grabbed a hot chocolate. Oscar was warm and comforted.

Sunday 7 May

Given my career in retail, it is not often I get the chance, nor do I really enjoy, to wander through the shops for myself. But today was different. The story started yesterday with a rather active ball game with my mate and his rather strong dog. It’s all good fun until someone looses an eye, or in my case looses a large patch out of the backside of their favourite jeans.

I took the liberty to wander through the mall and look for something new. No one really cared if I tried on anything or bought anything or probably if I just walked off. No one cared about Sunday. But if this story was to go anywhere, that needed to change.

Finally, someone did care that I had walked into their shop, they did care that I needed a certain style and fit and she was genuinely thankful when I eventually was overcome by the attention and purchased something.

I wandered off still smiling at the event then broke into happy laughter when I noticed a small florist on the corner of the mall. I grabbed a few roses and wandered back to the jeans wear shop. She was amazed at my thoughtfulness and the moment glistened in space. We exchanged names and she quickly told me that her lunch break was 20 minutes away.

I returned as agreed and we found a small café. We spoke about the simple celestial observation and quickly moved from sunshine to star signs. She said she was passing through a poorly lit time in her work and socialness, but I saw a giving energy that balanced this. She liked the song on the radio, it played at her sisters wedding last month.

Our meal was over, but not our time together. A latte with almond essence for Kim, a simple drink with a European taint. The smell the taste, took us both to our travelled past.

Monday 8 May,

Yesterday played on my mind for a considerable amount of time, rather disproportionate to the amount of time we spent together. The walk from my terraced house past the church, through the green zone and under the train line to the train café was no different, but my attitude was. Every flower seemed to bloom in perfection, every bird sung a song, every dog barked ‘hello’.

I waited patiently for my tall flat white with caramel essence. It is hard not to pick up on small snippets of other conversations in the room as the volume of each line changes. It is usually just random lines that do not really give anything away, but every so often you get a stand-alone gem of wisdom or insight. It appeared she was telling her friend about a new interest in her life and after fending a stream of questions I heard ‘….Smart is the new Sexy…’

Well that rocked my world, being blessed with a face for radio, I was intrigued by what she thought. I desperately wanted to rudely join the exchange and probe this concept some more.  I watched the skilled baristas and heard many names called out, ‘Karyn….Al…..Ben’ I grabbed my cup and headed off enjoying my sweet drink and complementary memories of yesterday.

Tuesday 9 May

During my lunch break today I sat in a new place. I was annoyed at work, there is a very small promotion available, but I fear that a bond between the boss and the new girl will negate my credibility built over many months of employment.

Those high school days flooding back. What started as an interest in a local open mike night became my life, my job and my social scene for an amazing summer. The small group of musicians (or guys with guitars) that I hung out with had found a haven in a small Bistro that allowed us to play and jam every Sunday afternoon. We were even allowed a beverage and a plate of dips and bread for our trouble. Never bothered with beer then, we were ahead of our time, but the music intoxicated us.

I was offered a job there, sadly it was not on stage but did allow me the chance to still drum my way through 12 bars of moonshine every week. My first night, a young couple did the runner and skipped the bill. I chased them down the street. She was horrified…. At him and he was deservingly embarrassed. I think this is the moment that got me through the night and allowed me to keep the job.

I eventually built up a small group of regulars who had favourite tables and standard drinks. I remember a bloke, who oozed opulence and often tipped me quite heavily, I am not sure if it was due to my service or his desire to look charitable in front of his lady.

Well I was wrong, one Sunday, he came to the bistro without his work buddies and his lady, but politely introduced me to his wife as they ordered a simple lunch. It taught me a lot about the facades of this planet and the masks we all wear.

I sat in this new place and ordered a simple lunch, complemented by a tall glass of hot water with a twist of lemon and pondered all that Harry had taught Edgar.

Wednesday 10 May

I had gone to a working lunch today with a few of my friends from work. There were a few old mates there, some had worked previously with us and some had just joined the clan over a few years of these extended lunch breaks. I still had to get back to the shop later so had ordered a simple toasted sandwich and fresh garden salad. I had sat next to a good friend, I say good friend even though I do not speak with him often, but when we do it is like we had only just spoken yesterday, that is what makes a good friend.

There was also a new member to our lunch table today. She dressed very simply, in a floral print dress, she had a radiant smile and spoke of simple things, travels and here two jobs. She told us how she planned to travel and that her ultimate aim was to lower the stress in her life to control her epilepsy. That word was my cue to let my mind wander many miles and years away, my father had that condition also, and made that same logic leap to lower the stresses in his life to prolong happiness for us all. You can’t just sit waiting for the worlds to change, sometime you need to drive evolution.

I returned from my astral travel to hear the last of the conversation concerned not only with commitment to a partner but committing to a gender. I was intrigued by her, stunned by her image and awoken by her revelation.  I clocked up a few more astral travelling miles and returned refreshed and renewed.

I needed caffeine, we needed simplicity, I ordered a traditional Caffe Latte for Korey (with a K), it is a traditional classic – smooth and creamy – steamed milk and a shot of intense espresso, lightly topped with foam.

Thursday 11 May

I was on my way to job interview today; nothing ‘big deal’, just an idea. I took the train to another part of town that I really have never been to in my adult life. I got of the station rather disoriented, and calmly asked a young Indian gent if he knew the way to Phillip St, he was perhaps a bad choice, he was a little rushed but beckoned that I follow him as he worked in that road. He darted in and out of the other passengers at the station and travelled between the jammed traffic in a similar manner, he even showed me some short cuts through shops and alleyways. He introduced himself but didn’t say much else. I asked if he was late, he informed me that this was his usual routine. There was another pause until he shared with me ‘Time and need teach us how to live’ and then shook my hand, pointed to the road sign and wished me good day. He had disappeared into a crowd of people heading into a large office tower.

He had bought me 20 minutes before my interview. I sat in the foyer of my destination. There was a small coffee franchise there, I ordered a macchiato, a strong shot of caffeine rounded off with a stain of warm milk. I enjoyed my encounter and hoped that this would be a great day, the first of many for Steven.

Friday 12 May

Why does my boss do no work? I mean there are two shift managers, one is diligent, values her staff and actually adds value to the work place. She actually is there and makes the work place somewhat fun for here team. And there is my team, the toxic energy dump. Sure I love my coffee, but I do not take the company coin to sit on my backside all day and drink cheap instant coffee and only leave my desk to take a smoke break in the alley. I have resisted the urge to comment on smokers for most of this journal, but will keep it short here. It is perhaps one of the most toxic substances known to the world, It even kills people who do not use it!

Things have to change I can’t passively absorb his toxicity any more, his smoke, his attitude.

I took my assigned break a little early, I ordered a long black. Some call it an Americano, but this is actually a very Euoropean way to enjoy coffee. The cheap paper cup had ‘Jerry’ scrawled across it, it meant nothing to me, nor did the drink and no amount of sugar could change my mind. I could only think of the boss and the stale smell of the ‘office’ he ‘occupied’.

The coffee didn’t make it to my stomach as I didn’t make it back to my now old job. I am sure that after lunch he would have realised I was missing I’ll confirm it by e-mail.

Saturday 13 May

I went to the beach today and wandered along the rocks to a small harbour. My Grandfather and I would go there all the time when I was young. It wasn’t the only place, I mean we did go to the rocks near his house also. Mum and my Grandmother were never very impressed with this, what we thought was safe and what they thought was a reasonable level of risk were very different. But I suppose that is what makes the fishing so much fun.

We would sit on the edge of the harbour in a little nook that allowed us shelter from the element but also gave us prime fishing ability. It was never about the fishing or the catch, it was about time together. He caught me out one year, I told him I was getting no bites and he pulled my line in only to find a large sinker tied firmly to the line but with no sign of a hook. Well I owned up and told him I didn’t really feel like catching anything I just wanted to sit with him and chat.

That was they day we went and got fish and chips and sat and chatted for ages before heading home. Mum asked if we caught anything, we told them we had some fish but nothing worth bringing home. It was the truth.

I’d always learn a lot from my grand father every time. He had spent a long time in the military and some times I thought his views were simplified and institutionalised, but sometime you need to strip it all back to those simple things.

I found a coffee shop, an espresso, simplified and but liberating. I wish every day was as simple. I heard Arty’s voice say ‘wish in one hand spit in the other… see which one fills up the quickest!’

Sunday 14 May

Today I was on the train heading away from the city, only a couple of stops to the local church. I had gone there for a long time, not regularly, but whenever needed. I was sifting through my back pack ensuring I had something for the offering. I found a guitar pick in the bottom of the bag, it had fallen out of the side pocket of my wallet, it had a large A on it, note sure why. My brother had given it to me. Actually he gave me many cool gifts. He worked in the music industry. Sometime on stage and sometimes as a tech. He had given me some framed back stage passes and picks some years ago. But this pick was different, nothing special about it at all, but it was a lucky charm, a strange bond between my brother and I.

I read a book about a childhood wizard and it was full of well-researched and well crafted magical ideas. It told of a way a person could attach a soul to an item and in some way seek immortality as long as that item lived. I think this is a totally real possibility, why do I carry this guitar pick, why is my late fathers teapot still on a shelf in my bedroom why do I wear a haematite cross every day.

Church was as expected, I walked from there to the beach. The foreshore was packed, a ordered a latte with a hint of vanilla. They was a man playing guitar with a upturned hat in front of him, I dropped in some change and my brothers guitar pick, god knows he needed all the help it could possibly offer. Andy would understand.

Monday 15

Today would be different. It had to be. I was on my way to work and got an SMS from the girl, the one who sold me the pants, I was wearing to work. There was an invitation to catch up again. I started to hurriedly thumb a reply, but then the phone rang, the caller identified himself and checked he had called the correct number. He then politely told me that I was the successful candidate and offered me the job….

There was a long pause as I recovered from being hit up side my head by this news, It was like a large dolphin friendly tuna had leap out of the sea and left me reeling, covered in salty slime.

I composed myself and thanked him for the job offer. I ended the call and as my smile grew so did a series of giggles and belly laughs. But I remained focused and got back to digital communication.

Who am I kidding, chance of a meeting? I needed this meeting I need her. I have flopped around cafes and flipped amongst a variety of situations. I needed to be honest, with her with me.  I knew it would only be a few short moments before her reply. I boldly walked into my café and approached the new young barista. He looked more like a legal student that a coffee connoisseur but was as good an audience as any.

‘Good morning’ I said ‘are you new here?’

‘Yes, first day. What can I get for you?’

‘A large flat white with one sugar please’

‘And what name for that coffee??’

‘Pardon?’

‘Your name please Sir?’

‘Dillon, my name is Dillon’

A moment passed, the grinder churned away, the sounds of steam warming the milk, the gentle swishing to sweeten my beverage…

The phone rang, I thanked the young ‘Matlock’ for my drink and wished him well. I raced outside to take her call in the fresh air with the sun beaming down and filling the day with its glow.  It was a great day.