Karine

 

I looked up at the man that was being wheeled into the hospital by two nurses, noting that he looked pale and weak. The expression on his face made me remember my father. I looked away and concentrated on the sheets that I had taken out to wash. This was basically what I did every day, it was my job. Although I sometimes assisted the nurses and doctors whenever they needed an extra hand, I did not really have any medical skills. I wanted to though; I wanted to go to college and get my degree.  Once I had big dreams, but those dreams were not so big any more.

I walked past the reception area and my eyes caught the television screen. There was a talk show on and a charming celebrity couple was the guests on the show. They looked really good together: their lifestyle simply glistened on their faces and spoke more than any words could express.

I almost walked straight into the wall, missing the door by an inch or two because my attention was focused on the screen. I watched as the couple kissed to the delight of the small talk show audience. It brought back instant memories of my own love life and how much it had sucked. My boyfriend and I had broken up just one month ago. I had caught him in the arms of another woman. For days on end I was broken and sad...I felt betrayed. I blamed myself for his slip-up, making up excuses like: maybe if I was more responsive to his needs sexually, he wouldn’t have had the need to seek his pleasure somewhere else.

I had been brought up in a religious family; my morals were solid and almost unwavering. It's not as if I was a prude or that I hated the idea of sex...quite the opposite. My body was like an exposed electric wire; I got turned on by even the slightest hint of eroticism. I had fantasies, I had desires and wishes. I constantly fought to keep myself in check and I felt like Timothy, my ex, understood me more than anyone else in the world.

I was no longer a virgin. I had given him my virginity, but we had only had sex twice in all the time we were together. I felt like he understood; I always thought that he was caring and very appreciative of the kind of girl that I was. Because of this, I always tried my best to restrain my desires to make love to him every time we were together. I didn’t want him to see me differently.   If only I had known that it was all the opposite.

I took the elevator to the lower level of the hospital’s basement and turned towards the lower level-laundry area where I knew that Nancy would be waiting for me. She did the same job that I did: she was the only one who I shared my thoughts with and she shared hers with me, too.

“You have that look in your eyes, Karine. What’s going on with you?” I heard Nancy’s voice immediately when I came into her line of sight. She was already busy with some sheets and laboratory robes. I smiled as I approached her and found a good space to drop the sheets I had in my hands. I put a basket of soiled laundry on the countertop and placed it near one of the washing machines. I began running water into the machine and then added some disinfectant detergent.

I stopped and faced Nancy “I was thinking about Tim just now. I was thinking maybe, maybe it wasn’t really his fault, you know, that he left me.” I spoke in a low tone but just loud enough for Nancy to hear me.

Her eyes caught mine. “If you continue to think about this, then you will never move on," Nancy advised. “You are young and beautiful and, even if you don’t know it, any man would kill to make you his. I just wish you could see this and then maybe you would stop punishing yourself with this self-pity” Nancy added.

“No man sees the beauty of a girl trying her best to remain good and respectful,” responded.

“What?" Nancy looked at me like one would look at a child who was spouting out gibberish.

"You keep looking at all those celebrities and looking down on yourself because of them. Underneath all that makeup and all those fancy clothes, they are not better than you, I assure you.” She was trying to lift my spirits; I was well aware of that and I was grateful to her for it.

“I was thinking of doing something different, something less like this” I spoke in near whispers.

“What do you mean?” She asked giving me a look of confusion.

“Every day when I walk into this building, all I can think about is how little I have to offer these patients.  The only thing I can do is wash the sheets and help out with the meager things. I constantly am reminded of my dad and the fact that I cannot do anything to help them, like I couldn’t do anything to help him. It makes me beat myself up about not being able to go to college to do what I have always wanted to do.”  I stopped for a while and looked at Nancy. She was unusually quiet.

“The pay does suck, and the job is boring,” she finally said.

“I am really tired of this job, I must confess. I want to try something new and maybe more interesting, where I can really help people,” I told her.

She tilted her head to the side and concentrated her stare on my face, like she was deliberating on my words.

“Well, if that is what you want, you should do whatever will make you feel fulfilled and happy. Life is too short to do otherwise," she said, and I silently agreed.

 

*****

The subtle clanging noise of the bell above the door was starting to get annoying. I could hardly think clearly as more and more people entered the shop.  As if coffee was the new oxygen.  The air was thick with steam near the espresso machines. I threw a sideward glance at my colleague who seemed to be thinking the exact same thoughts; her face spoke a thousand words more than the voices in my head. She was a red head with a big nose and full lips that automatically formed a pout whenever she stopped speaking. I teased her about it a lot.

I had been so tired of the job at the hospital and had searched desperately for another job.  Returning from a double shift at the hospital, I had been excited to see the “Barista Wanted-ASAP” at my local coffee shop. Imagine my surprise when I got the job—on the spot!  It’s been about a month now, and I couldn’t be any happier.  

"I said two spoons of sugar, you didn't put in any sugar," I heard an irritating masculine voice complain. Damned customers...they think we’re mind readers.  I put on my best smile, apologized for nothing and filled the order.  He was a regular, so I had to be nice; no matter how much I wanted to throw the coffee in his face.

This was the life of a barista at a small coffee shop in a busy city. I was working part-time to earn some money to help support my mother. My sister, Amber, was married with a kid and lived with her husband in another state. She often sent money to help out because Mom was not really able to do much since Dad had passed away. She was suffering from an illness with a long name that the doctor was kind enough to shorten to 'depression'. At least that I could understand. I felt sad for her because she used to be the happiest person I knew.

We were a small, happy family until illness set in…an illness that left me and my sister fatherless and my mom without a husband. The doctors did their best, but he finally passed on. I never really got over it even though I tried to hide that fact. I would lock myself in my room and cry myself to sleep while he lay in the hospital. It was the longest two weeks of all our lives as my dad fought to hold on to life. I had to watch Mom change into someone that I didn't recognize; she was bereaved and daunted. The gloom in her eyes was like an endless brume of dark clouds. She never recovered from it.

The sound of the bell pulled me back to reality as another customer trudged into the small space of our establishment. My heart stopped at the sight of him. No way; I could swear that he was Jiraiya Sampson.

"Karine, could you please get more sugars from the storeroom?" I heard Savannah speak in her peculiar tone that usually meant, 'I am really too busy to do it myself'.

I said nothing, I just moved back slowly. My eyes were glued on the man who was now approaching the counter. He walked so gracefully and had his head pointed straight up, exuding an air of confidence. He had not caught my eyes...yet. His gaze scanned the small setting of the cafeteria; he had never been here before—I could tell.  It was his first time. I felt like a freak ogling him like that.

And then, finally, he looked directly at me and my heart stopped. Those eyes; they were still the same golde-colored eyes with a tinge of a spark of green in them…those brilliant globes of azure magic just like I had seen in television commercials and in magazines. I was not wrong, he was definitely Jiraiya Sampson. The thing that captivated me the most was that he was even more handsome in real life than in any magazine.  More handsome than he looked in commercials and online tabloids with his model girlfriend, Gracen Lafleur. They were the perfect couple, according to the news.

Out of the blue, I heard the crashing sound of cups as they hit the floor and dang! It broke the sequence of my reverie. I had been so entranced in my own thoughts that I had collided and bumped against the cup stand and sent it all crashing down.

"What the hell, Karine?" Savannah had a disgruntled look on her face as she turned to see the mess I had created.

"I am so sorry.”

"Well, be quick with the cleanup or we will have a long line of angry customers waiting" she said angrily "By the way, I hope you know that’s coming out of your paycheck.

I nodded and cleaned up, as quickly as I could, the mess I had made.

As I cleaned, I took furtive glances at Jiraiya. He just sat there on one of the bar stools in front of the counter, looking straight into empty nothingness. His caramel-colored hair was wavy and thick with a bit of curl in between. His strong angular jaw line was perfectly accentuated by his thin lips and slightly pointed nose. He had the look of a powerful businessman who took what he wanted out of life. At least he had that look in the business magazines.  Today, something was different. Although he was still handsome as all get out, his hair was a little rumpled and there was the grim way he pressed his lips together that caused me to wonder what was bothering him.

“Hurry up, Karine!” I heard Savannah’s voice, once again, bringing me back from my silent musings.

Finally, I was done, and I continued working with jittery hands. Each time I bore the coffee-laden tray, I tread with cautious steps for fear that I would spill it all on the floor.  Or worse; I might spill it on a customer and that would be a disaster. All the while and despite the tumult around me, my eye kept sliding to Jiraiya.  He just sat there; sipping his coffee—a latte with cream and sugar.

I peered at him out of the corner of my eyes as he lifted the cup of coffee to his lips and sipped the contents...slowly. I watched his Adam's apple move as he gulped at the cup's contents, before returning his hands to the counter. I watched him turn around as he took in his surroundings.  My eyes followed his every move.  Where his eyes traveled so did mine I wondered what he was thinking as he looked at the beautiful colored pattern of the walls of The Coffee Shop. Mustard and blue, laced with stripes of brown were the colors that gave this small coffee shop its natural appearance. The name of the shop was written in colorful bold letters across the front expanse of the picture window.

Jiraiya seemed to be waiting for someone as he kept on checking his watch, but the person didn’t seem to be coming anytime soon. He stood up and paid for his coffee. As he approached me, my well-trained eyes noticed that he looked like he was in some kind of pain. He tried to hide it, masking his pain behind a huge smile that seemed to have been missing from his face for some time.  Oh, that smile.  A smile that could make any woman weak in the knees.

All those months of staying beside Father, his life ebbing away.   Yet he wore a huge smile.  That, coupled with years of working at the hospital had taught me that people could hide the biggest pain behind the broadest smile. Jiraiya had seemed happy in all those pictures in the magazines and online tabloids; I could not help wondering what troubled him. I did not say a word to him; I could not.

What would I have told him: Mr. Jiraiya, my name is Karine and I have been secretly watching you since you entered this coffee shop.  Your secret is safe with me.  May I know what troubles your mind, my prince? I definitely could not do that, so I just prayed with all my heart that it was nothing serious.