Sparks

Chapter 3

         The coffee shop was a welcome sight after everything at school. It was an older building, surrounded by other buildings that were just as old, all sitting in one of the more urbanized areas of Seattle proper. I couldn’t tell you what the shop was before my mother acquired it, but what we got was three-stories of respectable space on the corner of a moderately busy intersection. We had moved here during the summer, and a lot of that time was spent on carrying out renovations. Dividing the top floor into rooms. Adding utilities for the other two floors. The center floor became our family kitchen and living space, while my mother set up the coffee shop on the ground. She had done management for some small coffee chain back down south, but I knew she had always wanted a bit more. So she was quite happy with owning her own business.
         I still didn’t know how we could afford it all. I never learned the price of the building, but I wagered it wasn’t on the cheap side, despite the location. And the renovations were quite extensive, yet still done in a timely manner. All of that just doesn’t happen without some serious cash, which my family didn’t have. As best as I could figure out, my father had left us a healthy amount, but a lot was covered by some of his friends. Friends I had never met. The whole thing had a smell akin to the fish market, but I wasn’t going to question it too harshly. For the first time in a while, my mother seemed happy, so you know. Gift horses and such.
         The “Common Grounds” sign was the newest item on the building’s facade. My mom hadn’t felt like touching up the exterior, and so it was. I looked at the sign again, watching it swing slowly in the wind, before making my way inside.
         The interior was done on the simple side. The walls were a muted brown, and the lighting was brought down low, giving the whole space a warm feeling. And warm was always welcome in Seattle. Circular tables were arranged around the room, while raised square ones were placed up against the window. Coming in from the door, I faced the counter that stretched nearly the whole length of the room. The counter was extremely dark, textured to look like wood. Mom could have just left it with a simple set up behind the counter, but she wasn’t content with that. A large portion of the counter was dedicated to a display of various sandwiches and dessert treats. Besides a space reserved for the register, the rest of the counter was set up with stools, creating a serviceable, if small, bar. Rather than some brewing pots behind a counter, we had a pair of doors leading into a full dedicated kitchen. A full menu hung above the head of whomever stood behind the counter. The aroma of soup was strong today, and it made my mouth water almost instantly. More than anything else, my mother knew how to cook.
         Which wasn’t something a lot of people knew yet. The place was empty save for two others besides me. Behind the register stood a young woman, currently browsing her phone. She looked only slightly older than me. 3 years older, to be precise. My sister, Tanya Cayle, raised her head as I entered, greeting me with a mild, “Oh. Hey.”
         “Hey back,” I said.
         My sister was a tall, slender woman, a trait shared with our father. From our mother, we had both inherited her dark eyes and hair. Although unlike me, my sister’s hair was straight and neat, while her eyes were closer to the color of chocolate. Although what really attracted all the guys was her behaviour. Tanya just oozed femininity. Everything she did, she did with grace and composure. You know, when she wasn’t mocking me over anything.
         “Surprised to see you here so early. Would have bet you’d get pulled into detention on your first day,” She said.
         That was me and my sister. She was a paragon of class, and I sure as hell wasn’t.
         I grumbled something back in response as I made my way over to the counter. Along with the way to the kitchen, there was another doorway behind the counter that led upstairs. I made my way up to the center floor, noting with some satisfaction that it was unoccupied. My mother must be out.
         Unlike the cafe, the living space here was furnished in sky blues and whites. It was a sharp contrast separated by one staircase, and was somewhat jarring if you weren’t used to it. The small corner diagonal to the stairs was dedicated to a miniscule kitchen. The only appliances that saw regular use were the refrigerator and the microwave. Despite owning an entire food establishment beneath, my family mainly ate take-out. Go figure.
         Directly to my left was a space with a well-worn couch and accompanying chairs, all arranged around a television. Nothing expensive or large, just what worked. My sister and I weren’t the type to stay inside for extended periods, and my mother only really used it to keep up on news or movies. In the corner beyond this was a small table booth, which was the closest my family got to formal home dining. The stairwell continued onwards to the rooms above, but I walked over to the couch, threw my bag somewhere out of sight, and collapsed face-first across the length. Then I groaned. Heavily. And for a long time.
         I heard my sister climb up the stairs and cross to the kitchen. After some mild shuffling in the fridge and the affirmative beeping of the microwave, I was treated to the humming of food being reheated and my sister saying, “Yikes. Seventeen years old and already done with the world. What a life.”
         I tilted my head up just enough to glare at her. Tanya retrieved her plate of fries, popped one in her mouth, and leaned back on the counter while giving me a snarky grin. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans that did nothing else but show off her shapely legs, and a white T-shirt that cut of sharply above her midriff and plunged further down her neckline than was necessary. I wonder if my mother was ever planning on implementing a dress code for employees.
         “Don’t patronize me,” I said.
         Tanya shrugged, “What else is really worth doing though?”
         “Don’t you have someone to attend to downstairs?”
         Another shrug. “He’s not causing trouble.” At that exact moment, the bell above the door rang cheerfully. Called back to action, my sister strode back over towards the staircase, hips swaying the whole time. She was still carrying the plate of fries. As she passed me, she lightly swatted my back and said, “Come on. Make yourself useful. Mom’s out, so you’re on kitchen duty.”
         I heaved a slow sigh, but got up all the same. Tanya was right. Things still needed to be done.
         I took off my jacket and left it draped across the back of the couch. I followed my sister down the stairs and made my way to the kitchen. She was busy alternating between serving customers and fries. Most people would probably find this extremely rude, but the only customers appeared to be young guys, who were willing to let Tanya get away with it. My sister had that sort of effect on men.
         I was pushing open the kitchen doors when the oddest sensation came over me. I had the distinct feeling that someone was watching me. There was no one on the street looking in. I glanced around the cafe, but every guy there only had eyes for Tanya. Wait, except for that one guy.
         I had noticed him the first time I walked in earlier, but I hadn’t paid him much attention. Now, I studied him closer. He was still sitting at the bar, same as before. Even his position was unchanged. He had his right arm pillowed on the counter, which he rested his head on. From what I could tell, he seemed to be asleep. He appeared to be in his late-30’s or early-40’s, and his dark blonde hair was cut quite short, but I couldn’t see much else beyond that. Looking past that, I could see a beaten military jacket, although I couldn’t quite tell if it was authentic or not. It was extraordinarily damaged, with cuts, stains, and tears adorning almost the entirety of the jacket. There didn’t seem to be one part of it spared from harm.
         No, that was a lie. On his right shoulder was a patch of an angel, facing forward, arms extended to the side. The patch was a sharp contrast from the rest of the uniform. It had no blemishes, and I was willing to bet that it was the same clean shade of white as it had been when it was first made. All in all, it was clean and well-kept. The angel’s eyes stared out with their own sort of strength, full of hope despite the apparently beaten man it was attached to. Curious. That patch didn’t look like something standard issue.
         That feeling of being observed still persisted, and for some reason I had the feeling that this guy was the one watching. He was seated directly in front of the kitchen, so I was standing only about two feet in front of him. Yet he seemed to be completely oblivious to the world. I stood there pondering this man until my sister called for me, and I quickly entered the kitchen and set to work.
         Unlike most of the furniture upstairs, the kitchen was a bit more modern. While it wasn’t completely stainless steel or five-star quality, There weren’t any signs of wear or age on anything either. My mom spared no expense in making sure the foundation of her business was more than serviceable. Besides that, the kitchen was fairly standard. A central island for completed dishes. Freezers and cabinets along one wall that was shared with a door to the pantry. Stoves and other such appliances along another wall. A variety of pots sat on top of the stove, obviously filled. I picked up a black bandana that hung from a hook on the hall and covered my head with it. This was the closest I got to a uniform. After rinsing my hands, I got to work. Make no mistake, I’m not much of a chef. Fortunately, my mother always had the foresight to prepare in advance. My job was mostly assembling orders properly. I took a look around to make sure there was nothing that needed cleaning, turned the stoves on to start warming the soup, and got to work.
         It was nice, being able to lose myself in labor. Only thinking about what was needed to be done, what to serve, and managing my time properly. With only my sister and I working here, our process was a bit unorthodox, but we were able to keep up with demand and get results, and that’s all I really cared about. Besides a small break, there wasn’t any stop until we closed at 8. I leaned against the counter and took a slow breath, rubbing my hand against the cramp in my neck. I could hear my sister ping open the register and begin cataloging the day’s profits. I rifled through the fridge and left the kitchen nibbling on a small cookie I’d scavenged from our wares.
         Stepping through the doors, I was surprised to see the man was still apparently asleep on the counter. I wasn’t even sure if he had moved. Still unclear on what our stance about loitering was, I elected to leave him be and strode over to my sister. The rest of the cafe was still moderately filled with customers finishing up. I could point of two or three young guys milling around trying to work up the courage to approach Tanya. My sister chose to remain oblivious to their struggle, instead opting to focus on cataloging the contents of the register.
         The bell above the door rattled cheerfully as my mother stepped into the establishment. I had no idea where she had been, but I noted her business fashion with mild interest; it was the same outfit she had worn this morning. I had thought it weird for her to dress up so much- tasteful makeup and a pencil skirt completed with a business jacket, both in a dark navy blue - for a simple meeting with my principal. I guess she had had somewhere important to go afterwards.
         She took a moment to survey the remaining patrons, then headed towards the kitchen, motioning for Tanya to join her. My sister nodded, sharply snapped the register shut, and gave me a pointed look with a muttered, “Watch the place.” I shoved the last of the sweet in my mouth before shrugging in compliance.
         As my mother and sister stepped into the kitchen, I leaned on the counter and propped my head up on my hand. The closing time crowd wasn’t terribly interesting, or nice to look at, and my vision blurred as my mind began wandering…
         An odd sensation snapped it back into focus. It was that same feeling from before, like someone had their gaze fixed on me. I turned to my right to look at the sleeping man again, and nearly jumped out of my skin when my eyes met his.
         His eyes were golden. And that’s not some weird metaphor, I mean they were literally golden. They were ablaze like the sun at noon on a cloudless day. It was mesmerizing, how unnatural his eyes were. It wasn’t until I heard the doors from the kitchen swing open again that I was able to wrench my gaze away. The looks on my mother and sister’s faces assured me that the talk wasn’t a particularly happy one. Or a short one. How long had I been standing there?
         My mother raised her voice and firmly asked the remaining patrons to make their way out. As everyone began shuffling their way to the door, my mother turned to me and asked with a note of concern, “Leo, are you okay? You look… a bit pale there.” I muttered something back about being okay before turning back. The bar was empty.
         Bewildered, I looked around the cafe. The last guests were filing out, but between their shoulders I could make out a retreating camouflaged jacket in the distance. How the hell had he moved that fast?
         I stood there puzzling over this until my mother called for me to help clean the place up. And once again, I lost myself in work, the strange man already out of my thoughts.

         The whispered pattering of rain on glass echoed through the room. It was made more acute by the fact that I couldn’t see anything, and it was the only sound to listen to. Well, that, and the sound of my sister snoring from down the hall. Guys were always eyeing her in public, but I swear, if they had to live with her, they would not think she was as attractive as she appeared.
         My clock next to me beamed out 1:28 in bright red, blocky digits. I sighed, staring vainly at where my ceiling should have been. I rolled onto my left, then onto my right, shifted uncomfortably, and settled on my stomach with my face in the pillow. But that made it too hard to breathe, so I finally ended up right back where I started. Another sigh. I continued lying there, staring into inky darkness. My mind went through a short montage of the day’s events, from the principal’s meeting, to the confrontation with Tony, to the strange dinner that happened after the family closed shop.
After working all day, none of us had felt up to the task of cooking, so there we were, all gathered around the tiny table on the second floor with chopsticks and tiny white boxes. It wasn’t raining then, but I could feel the weight in the air. My mother hadn’t changed out of her earlier clothing, but her jacket was wrinkled in numerous spots, and her hair had sprouted free of its band. My sister, on the other hand, had elected to switch into a stark white tank top and sweatpants. We were making small talk, my mother asking how the first day of school went, and me responding with vague affirmatives.
         Eventually, my mother set her dinner down on the table, placed the chopsticks across this, and folded her hands in her lap. My sister and I paused and exchanged a quick glance. In the break from closing shop to dinner, Tanya had filled me in on what little my mom had told her in the kitchen. Something to do with the bank we had gotten the loan from. While we had gotten quite a bit of funding from my father’s associates, it wasn’t quite enough to cover the entirety of the business. So we had put the money forward as an upfront cost and received the remainder from one of the larger bank chains. It wasn’t a large loan, but the need to pay them back was still there, like a scratching at the back of your mind, always out of sight, but impossible to ignore.
         My mother took a moment to compose herself while my sister sat patiently, and I chased the last piece of beef around the bottom of my box. “Well,” she began, “I know I don’t really share the financial specifics with the two of you. I just thought that it would be better to not have something else on your mind, since I know you’re both so preoccupied with…” She trailed off and looked down at her hands again, a concerned look on her face. I clenched my fist, nearly snapping the utensils, and my sister became very interested in the last bits of rice in her dinner.
         We sat like that for a minute, before my mother cleared her throat and said, in a slightly more choked voice, “Well, anyways, I thought it would be a good idea to make a visit to the bank and explain that we are a bit behind on our payments.” She waved down Tanya, who had instantly snapped to attention and had begun to speak. “Now before you panic, no, it’s not a very significant amount. Just a couple hundred dollars, nothing they didn’t understand. Of course, they did mention that if we fail to meet the next couple of months, they would raise our interest rates.”
         I thoughtfully chewed the end of one the sticks. “Well, of course we have trouble making payments. We haven’t even been here for a full month. Is it even possible to make next month’s payment?”
         “We can only hope. So, I was hoping I could get you two to help spread the word a bit. Leo, I know you’re still the new kid, but maybe you could drop hints around your classes? And Tanya, perhaps you could help run something over social media. Anything would help at this point really.”
         Tanya cocked her head to the side, “So you want to add advertising onto our job description?”
         “Do we get extra pay for this?” I chimed in.
         My mother responded with a small half-smile, “I wouldn’t count on any.”
         “Great,” I muttered.
         I slumped back in my chair as Tanya piped up, “And there isn’t really any way the bank could stretch this out into something a bit more manageable? I mean, we didn’t take out that large of a loan, and we are just starting up…”
         My mother shook her head, “No. I tried discussing something with the investment manager I met with,” she said, and I could swear she started blushing. “But there wasn’t much he could do. Although he was so polite about it.” It was hard to tell in the low lighting, but there was definitely some coloration to her cheeks. She also had a small smile playing on her lips. She hasn’t smiled like that since Dad...
         I elected to switch my line of thought. I looked at Tanya out of the corner of my eye, and she met my gaze in the same manner. Was it too soon for her to start this? My sister tried broaching the topic, “Mom. Um, is there something you want to tell us?”
         My mother suddenly snapped back to attention. “Oh, um, no. Of course not. I just. Um, sorry. I… Tanya… well.” She began to look extremely flustered, waving one hand around trying to add emphasis to nothing.
         Suddenly my mom stood up, her chair squealing in protest. “Well you two, that was a nice dinner, but it has been a long day. I think I’ll turn in early if you two don’t mind.” And before either of us could respond, she had scurried up the stairs. All Tanya and I could do was sit there flabbergasted. And that was the end of this evening’s events. And now I lay in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about this new development. Mom had seemed extremely lonely lately, sure, but the thought of her moving on so quickly…
         I wanted her to be happy. I was certain of that. If anything, my mother deserved to be happy. I just hated the thought of her finding happiness so soon in this manner, almost as if she had already forgotten. Unbidden, memories came back, taking me out of my room and into a long ago conversation.

         I sat on a low stone wall, my small feet swinging in front of me. I was about five or six again, that time of life when childhood naivety still blinded you to the world, but you were smart enough to at least comprehend misfortune. The hot California sun beat down on me, no clouds in the sky to block the rays, leaving a bright blue sky streaking off in every direction. The wind whistled softly over the beach, the waves tossing surf onto the sand a ways out in front of me. I could smell the salt from back here, on the stone barricade separating the beach from a jogging path. People milled about here and there on the beach, basking in the sun or rolling in the surf. Behind me, I could hear the clamor of voices, as people walked up and down the path, discussing something or other. I didn’t care. I was five or six, and all the world lay before me.
         A man shifted at my right. I looked over and up, my father’s rugged face coming into view. He looked down at me thoughtfully, his brown unkempt hair barely reaching his eyes, his scruffy beard giving his face a rough look, and I knew it would feel like sandpaper if I ran my hand over it. His dark green eyes shone down at me, the thoughts behind them as deep as the ocean which stole the color from his eyes.
         My father stared down at me in thought. I stared back with an equally large lack of it. After a moment he snorted in amusement, smiled, and asked, “What do you see on this beach, son?”
         I was simple at the time, and responded as such, “People.”
         My father arched an eyebrow. My mother claimed it was bad form to teach me such a trick. “Just people?” I nodded in response.
         He sighed, and brushed a hand through his hair. He gazed out at the crowd in front, observed the one behind us, back to front, and returned to me, “I want you to remember something, Leo.” He paused briefly, a pensive look on his face, as if deciding how best to explain something.
         I waited. A moment passed, then he continued, “Leonidas, when you look out there, at all those people, I want you to remember. Those aren’t people you’re seeing. Those are worlds.” He swept his hand out for emphasis, “Every single person out there is living in their own world. They work in their own world, learn in their own world, and truly exist to better their own world.” He threw a look over his shoulder, “All these people here connect with each other’s worlds, but they never truly exist in them. They all walk about in their own lives, minding their own worlds, and rarely think about the world that is right next to them, on the train, the bus, the street. We come close to millions of worlds in our life, and we never actually reach out to any of them.”
         He looked down at me, and the dumb look on my face. He paused there, chuckled to himself, and placed his hand on my shoulder, “I don’t expect you to truly understand this Leo, but I hope you will. And I want you to promise me something.” He sat back on his haunches for this, bringing our eyes level. “Promise me you will at least think about other people’s worlds. Touch them if you can, but at least give them thought. Promise me.”
         I nodded in concurrence. I was five or six at the time, what else was I going to do?
         My father looked at me then, and for the first time, I tried to see into another world. I tried to see into his world. But all I could see was the ocean.