Coffeedreamz Ink LLC

Chapter 1: The Aroma

Popular culture would say, “It’s the joy in his voice for me”. There is something special about seeing a man smile with his whole face–eyebrows, eyes, cheeks, mouth–and flash a well-maintained grill. Good looks aside, women listen for the consistent heartbeats of a well-intentioned person who sees the value in the unseen behind their eyes, words, and physical attraction. I found the cure for hate in a coffee shop. From a snapshot in time, I rediscovered the peace and comfort that comes along with soul ties. I never imagined a holiday gift would be so sweet.

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“It’s hot girl winter. Enjoy yourself!” I whispered to my partner who was ten years younger than me as we parted ways for the holidays. “Cheryl, I don’t think that’s how you say it,” she retorted.
 

“Well, that’s how it should be said,” I snapped my finger in the air and laughed my way into the car.

 

Our PR Firm, Cole and Associates, was closed for winter break unless a major crisis occurred. Our client contracts included a very strict clause that reminded everyone to mind their pints and quarts during holiday parties. Reckless behavior was sure to follow inebriated athletes in streets ready to welcome them with lawsuits. Preventive measures were taken to ensure we’d all have a “very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year”. Our client list was small allowing for a personal touch with each person. As a result, we hired our version of the “Secret Service” to keep a watchful eye on our folks. Essentially, we hired former linebackers who were in-between careers from the NFL. Cell phones are collected as 24-hour crisis reps are on duty for the entire two weeks–recent college graduates who were paid time and a half to make sure we didn’t have to come back to the office. I fully expected not to get interrupted THIS holiday season. I needed some much needed rest.

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It was entirely too early for me to go home to the emptiness that filled the air. My children, Michael and Taylor, were finishing up their last semesters in college busy creating regrets and life-changing experiences all at the same time. Although they were a year apart, Taylor’s birthday is in November, so she had to begin school later than most of the students her age. Instead of rushing to graduate with “her class”, Taylor decided to go through the college years with her best friend, her brother. Since they weren't home, I had time to shoot the breeze. I slipped into the grand opening of a coffee shop near my home to take advantage of their “Free Cup On Us” promotion.
 

The aroma of exotic coffee beans danced in the air in the parking lot of the cafe. It was fragrant and reminiscent of weekday mornings when my former husband would make two cups of black coffee with sugar and a splash of cinnamon cream for us. He would make small cups of hot cocoa with mini marshmallows that seemed to backstroke in the cup for our then eight-year-old and nine year-old children. They loved daddy’s “hot choco latte she gotta em for sale” they would sing-song to the tune of “Hot Tamales” by a British Ukulele Orchestra. I miss the small acts of kindness he showed on days he was fully present in our lives. Needless to say, my olfactory senses were boosted and awakened positive memories.
 

When I opened the door, I stepped in the L-shaped line that was forming. A whiff of a nostalgic cologne attacked my nose. Who is wearing Joop, I said to myself while inverting my lips and narrowing my eyes. I wanted to yell it out of my head to encourage the person to step up his game with something less prehistoric.
 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a man asked in the middle of my private inquiry. He wanted to reach for a bottle of water just near my thigh. 

It was hot girl winter for sure because a trickle of wetness seeped through both my lips. This man did not smell like high school locker rooms in the city. He smelled like power in a penthouse overlooking the city. I moved to the side just enough for him to squeeze by. The heat from his arms warmed my thigh as he retrieved the elegant glass bottle with a flower insignia on it. We locked eyes for a brief moment and all about me went black. Yes, this sounds like a lot of a brief encounter; perhaps I was a bit thirsty and anxious, but what happened next proved I wasn’t the only one making excuses to be near.
 

“Calvin,” he said to me with a wink.
 

“Cheryl,” I replied.
 

“No, I’m wearing Calvin Klein Eternity cologne. I saw you sniffing,” he laughed and winked at me. The words slipped out of his mouth like melted chocolate on a summer day–warm and sticky. They fell on my ear lobe and gave me a jump start.

My eyes were bugged out. I was speechless. I was certain I kept my comments to myself. …or did I? This man read my face. I picked up what he laid down.
 

“Consider me lost in it then,” I said and shared a flirtatious smile with him.
 

He returned the pleasantry with a row of pearly whites that were fully intact. I blinked and he was gone. He disappeared as if the wind had swept him off his feet. There was no trail of a lingering scent. Had I imagined the encounter or was he real? I was pissed I missed an opportunity to engage him further.

 

The line moved, so I scooted along. Once I was close to the counter, I caught a whiff of Eternity. He was near. My 5’5 vertical reach had become a disability in the back of a very statuesque customer. I couldn’t even peek around the dude's body. The hoodie alone was like a comforter swallowing a bed. I was patient.

 

“Calvin’s” scent was close, so I had to play it cool.

 

When it was my time to order, Calvin and I exchanged smiles. His salt and pepper beard surrounded his deep brown skin. I tried to ignore the scent of his manhood that willfully connected with my pheromones. 

 

“Let me guess, you’re a macchiato lady,” he fished. His voice was so smooth; it was the bass guitar being strummed on jazz night at Blues Alley in Georgetown.
 

“...with extra caramel and whipped cream,” I responded.
 

“Would you like anything else?” he inquired?
 

“Your name would help me write a glowing review,” I said while sliding my cell phone in his direction with the notepad app opened for him to scribble his name with the stylus.

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"Hakim," he offered with that enchanting smile. Then he looked up at me, but hesitated for a few seconds just before he wrote his number beside his name.
 

“Don’t hit the reject button when you see this number,” he said. He slid his phone back in my direction.

I scribbled my information on a napkin. That escalated very quickly, but it was a familiar exchange at the same time. When I reached to pay for my drink, he reminded me that the first cup was free.

“Now, Ms. Cheryl, I wouldn’t take your money anyway. You work too hard.”
 

Wayment…the way he said my name was telling. Did he know me? Perhaps, that’s why he felt comfortable enough reaching for the bottle so close to my thigh. He saw my eyes widen in shock, and laughed behind his smile.
 

“You don’t remember me, do you?”
 

Stuck on stupid, I said, “Umm…I need a little help.”
 

“Let me get through this line. If you have a minute, we can chat in the booth.”
I had nowhere else to go, so I agreed to wait for him.

 

The barista called my name, I retrieved my drink, and made my way to a booth near the back of the coffee shop. I sipped my espresso slowly and watched passersby look inquisitively into the coffee shop. The line outside the door drew as much attention as the aromatic smells. Hakim was going to be at the register for a while, so I pulled out my phone to research a last minute trip to Florida to visit my cousins. Michael and Taylor didn’t care too much about Christmas anymore; hanging with their friends was far more important than spreading cheer around a tree. Their father was busy with his bonus family and newborn child, and I just wanted some girl time. Just as I was about to book my flight, Hakim approached the booth with a slice of chocolate cake.

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“For you, Ms. Mills,” he offered.

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“Listen, you’re as handsome as they come, but press fast forward. Who are you, and how do you know me, sir?” I unloaded.

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He said one word and my whole world sent me back to a time when life was really “...easy like Sunday morning”. It was a time when children were still able to play on the safe side of Stanton Road in Southeast D.C. even though drugs ran through the city. It was a time when the community did its best to protect its children within an imaginary bubble–the drug dealers had a code and made sure no one messed with the "youngins" who might potentially have a future–at least on our corners. He sent me to a time when the Guardian Angels came from New York to watch over us when the block was on high heat. They did not look like locals with their heads covered in red berets and white t-shirts flashing their red-winged logo tucked inside black slacks. They ate from Wa Luck carry out and listened to our Go Go music while keeping their heads on a swivel.  It was the 80s. It was a time, but at that moment, Hakim raptured my soul.

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“C’mon now Dutch, I told you I would find you no matter how long it took,” he smiled while rolling up his sleeve to expose a tattoo he promised to get when we were little–a knotted, red rope.

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“Hoops?”
 

My breath floated in the air and he caught it.

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“Yup! In the flesh.”

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The cure for hate is love. Hoops always made me feel like nothing else in the world mattered but us. Together, we stop time. That day was no exception.