Memories to Forget

I stood behind the counter, pouring coffee, thinking, “Thank goodness no one can hear my thoughts! That would have been embarrassing. No one knows my little secret.”

Jacelyn, dressed in our white shirt, brown pants, and grey apron uniform, called my name for the millionth time.

“Yeah, sorry, Jacelyn. It’s almost done. Here.”

I placed the glass with coffee, whipped cream, and a caramel drizzle on a tray with a straw.

She placed it on the counter, and the man with dark blue hair picked it up, carried it, and placed it in front of a girl with hair the color of cotton candy.

“Looks good, babe!” he said.

“Yes, thanks.”

The interior was mainly varnished wood, with sparkling clean floors, vintage lamps, and large windows. Those windows had stained-glass cupcakes, which were my favorite part of the coffee shop.

Another order arrived. I exhaled loudly and went on to scoop bubbles and ice to put in the matcha tea.

“Maria, are you thinking about your crush again?” asked Jacelyn.

“Crush? Who might that be?” I said, avoiding eye contact with her.

UGH, I’ve been caught red-handed.

My eyes dropped to the ground as I put the plastic cup in the wrapping machine. I served it with a giant straw.

“Relax. I won’t tell anyone about Jake,” she said.

“Oh. Yes. Thanks,” I said.

Who’s going to tell her that I’ve got a million different crushes, and her brother Jake is merely a scribble on my hall of shame? I would have had a crush on that customer if he weren’t taken.

“Don’t worry. As your senior, it’s my duty to make sure that you do your job with full attention span,” said Jacelyn.

Her eyes sparkled against her dark blonde hair. Her hair was usually in a low ponytail. I never saw her smile, to be honest.

The fridge in front of us was mostly empty, other than the tiramisu squares and doughnuts.

I continued making drinks and serving sweets on a plate until my shift was nearly over. Jake came out of the kitchen with a fresh batch of Danish pastry.

The peach pastry smells so sweet. I wonder if Jake smells like that… Why did I have to get rejected?

The memories replayed in my mind. It happened yesterday, or maybe it was the day before. Or a week before.

If I’m being honest, I don’t remember the exact timing.

It was a bright afternoon when I walked up to Jake, told him I had something to tell him, and we walked into the staff room. When I expressed my feelings for him and shoved a crochet heart in his direction, he laughed and told me he doesn’t want to break my heart, so I should keep it for myself. He apologized the next moment and left for the kitchen, from which I could smell chocolatey brownies.

Oh! That was embarrassing. Never again!

I must have been staring at him and blushing, because a few seconds later, my phone beeped with a message.

Jacelyn: Maria, Jake is taken.

Me: NO!

I swallowed, said my shift was over (there were 5 minutes left), and zipped out through the staff door.

“Come back, Maria!”

“My shift is over. You can’t keep me here forever. It’s against employment laws,” I replied.

Jacelyn entered through the staff door and said, “Maria. Relax, you’ll find someone good for you.”

“Hmm? The dating game is non-existent right now. It’s not like how it was in your day,” I said.

Was that a little rude?

“Seriously, I’m only two years older than you. Besides, the dating game exists, alright. You’re the only one I know who isn’t taken,” said Jacelyn.

“Oh. Okay.”

I took off my apron and undid my ponytail, setting my emerald, silky locks free.

I’m going to go home and finish crocheting myself a boyfriend… plush.

Jake called Jacelyn several times.

“Tell you what. Let’s go to the mall at 4 pm. It’ll be fun.”

I gathered my handbag and clothes.

“I’m not sure. I was planning on crocheting.”

“Come on, Maria. Okay, you know what? Just let me know at that time,” she said.

“Alright. Thanks.”

Jake called for her again, and she left without another word. I changed my clothes at once.

I walked out of the cafe and listened to the footsteps and chatter of people. Some went past me, almost brushing against my coat. My eyes were fixed on the sky, which was a soft shade of cyan blue, with white clouds drifting by. I crossed the street as the pedestrian signal turned green.

A few yards away, there was my car in the parking lot. Clicking on my key with a beep sound, I unlocked my sedan. It was the limited edition frost blue color, and I only got it for that reason, other than the rave reviews.

Sitting in the driver’s seat and putting on my seatbelt, I played a song by my favourite singer on the CD player. It was going to be a long drive.

I reached home in an hour, a tall, grey house, as the guard opened the white gates. The grass was freshly cut, and hydrangeas were in full bloom. I parked the car, got out, and took my pure leather bag adorned with crystals in my arm and entered the lobby.

There was soft piano music in the air. Turning to my left, I saw my mother playing on our grand piano. She smiled and closed her eyes as she bobbed her head up and down. I didn’t disturb her and went up the wide, spiral staircase instead.

“Maria, are you here?” she asked.

“Yes, mom.”

“Where were you?”

She got up from the bench and fixed her dress’s waist ties.

“I was at my job at the coffee shop.”

“Not that ragged minimum wage job. Your father can easily get you into a counseling centre or high–end hospital.”

“I know. But I can’t do that and study for my master’s at the same time,” I said.

“Why not? Besides, what’s the point of so much hard work? Your father has worked hard for decades to make sure we have a good lifestyle.”

“I know. The coffee shop is a good reality check.”

“Reality check?”

“Bye, mom. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Alright.”

I went up and into a bedroom with a shelf of trinkets, spools of yarn arranged like a shop would, a bed with pastel pink sheets, and a poster on an easel that I called my hall of shame.

Every time something bad happened, I would sketch a doodle about how I felt. By this time, the whole sheet was nearly filled to the edge.

For a split second, I asked myself a question that I never thought of before.

Which one is the real me? I can be my real self in front of my friends and colleagues. But in front of my mom, I have to limit myself. What can I do about this?

Without a second thought, I picked up my golden crochet hook and began making the remainder of the plushie’s hoodie. His hair was the shade of blue that I loved the most. I made the hoodie out of plain white yarn and gave him jeans. The finishing touch was a button that I used to close his hooded jacket.

So I’m finally using this button, huh?

It actually belonged to my late grandfather. It was from his coat, and it had fallen off.

I don’t know if I should be using it for this, but it’s better than not using it at all.

An hour passed, and my hands cramped from fiddling with the yarn so much.

I don’t have a lot to do.

The doll stared at me from a distance, with its beady eyes. I smiled, sighed, grabbed my phone, and called Jacelyn at once.

“Hello? You’re going to the mall, right?”

“Yeah, only if you go.”

“Count me in!”

“Great.”

I got up and got the remote, pressed the wardrobe button, and it revealed racks of clothes and a rotating shelf with shoes.

I suppose I can wear something pretty for a change.

I put on a denim mini skirt, a black lacey camisole, and dangling star earrings. Brushing my collarbones with a glitter puff, I put on a metallic plum lip gloss and thin eyeliner. My cropped, velvet hoodie was navy blue. The final touch was a pair of black boots.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I blinked several times.

The era of the early 2000s is certainly back in style!

I took my usual bag, went downstairs, and said, “Mom, I’m going to the mall.”

She turned around and placed orange peels into the compost bin.

“Which mall, my dear?” she asked.

“Any mall.”

“Okay. Get me a nice pair of earrings. I need to give Alice a gift.”

“Okay, bye.”

Oh, that’s right. I forgot to ask which mall.