• • • • •
The only coffee shop open in Whitehall on a Sunday is called Sweet Honey Café, at the far end of main street. It looks like a cottage, and inside is an overwhelming amount of floral designs—from the table covers to the wallpaper to the fake flowers in the middle of the tables. A woman named Mary Jo owns and runs the place. She used to be a good friend of my grandma’s. Maybe she’s still a friend of my grandma’s, but I’m not sure how that works when the other person is unaware of the friendship.
I walk into the empty café, and Mary Jo comes out from the back. “Charlie, oh my! It’s been quite a while. Good to see you. How’s Eloise doing? I need to get over and see her. I’ve been saying that for a while, but I need to just do it. Though, after working all day, it’s hard to close the café and not go home and crash.”
I stand there, smiling, with my hands in my pockets. “She’s doing well,” I say.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” She flips the kitchen towel she’s holding over her shoulder. “What can I get you?”
“I’m going to meet someone, so I’m just going to wait for now.” I suddenly regret having a meeting with another alien/UFO person in a place where I know the owner. Charlie Dickens, do you ever think? I don’t want people to start suspecting that I’m slipping . . . like my mom.
I sit by the window and look out. My phone buzzes with a text from Seth. You’ll never guess what I saw!!! OMG!
What!?! I reply.
A light. A big bright blinding light last night around 2am.
My heart jumps. Seriously!? I need more info!
I’ll tell you later. In person?
Okay. I’m meeting with the website lady shortly.
The UFO website lady?
That one.
Really? That’s cool. What’s the meeting for?
I hear gravel crunch, and I look up to see a green Subaru park in front of the café. The woman driving is in her midforties, with hair that is shooting out in all directions, kind of like Albert Einstein.
She looks around the café once she enters, and there’s only me. I wave. She pulls down her sunglasses and glances at me. Then she puts them back on, smiles, and walks over.
“Charlie? I wasn’t expecting a teenager.”
I shrug. My hands are folded like I’m being interviewed or something. “Yeah, it’s just me.”
She sits. “No, no, I think it’s great. Someone so young involved in such a complicated subject.”
“You could say it kind of found me.”
“I’d love to hear your story.” She looks around as Mary Jo comes over.
“What can I get you two?”
We order some coffees, and Mary Jo heads back to the counter.
Meridian X, still wearing sunglasses, looks at me. I think.
“So is your name really Meridian X?” My leg keeps bouncing, though I’m trying not to focus on it.
“What do you think, Charlie?”
I press my hand to my thigh. “No?”
“I have my legal name and the name I prefer to go by, which is Meridian X.” She studies me a minute. “You don’t like your name, do you?”
“Yeah, I like it.” How would she know whether I like my name or not?
“Don’t lie to me. If you could pick your name, what would it be?”
“How do you know I don’t like my name?” I think this is an odd conversation to be having with an (almost) complete stranger.
“Well, when you wrote me back after I asked you whether you wanted your first or first and last name on the website, you said something to the effect of, ‘Please. Do not post my last name.’ ”
“Maybe I just don’t want people to know I’m into watching aliens.”
“Possible, yes. But most people who spot something want credit for it. So you’re saying you wouldn’t change your name?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.” It’s a weird thing to ask, because I think of a name as something concrete, something that follows you throughout life and is a reminder of a person after death.
“You are always free to change your name,” she says. Thankfully, she takes her sunglasses off and places them on the table. I didn’t like when I couldn’t see her eyes.
I nod. I’m not sure why I’ve never thought about it before. I mean, why do I have to keep anything that anyone has given me? My name is wrought with baggage. And history. On the one hand, that’s good. On the other, it haunts me. Maybe I will change my name.
Mary Jo brings over our drinks and places them delicately on her floral tabletop.
Meridian X smiles. She takes a sip of her coffee.
I’m not sure how much cream or sugar to put into my coffee, as I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve had coffee. So I dump half the cream into it, and then open five packs of sugar.
I take a sip. It’s actually pretty good.
Meridian X laughs. “You ever had coffee before?”
I feel awkward and take another gulp of my coffee. “My friend Seth said he saw a light last night.”
Meridian X jerks forward, and her eyes light up. “Was it like the light you saw?”
“No idea. He just texted me about it.”
“Well, get him down here!”
“Really?” I eye her.
“Yes!”
I pull out my phone.
* * *
My leg is still bouncing, but for another reason. I’m on my third cup of coffee, and I feel good.
Meridian X is sipping from her second cup and we’re discussing my encounter, which she already heard about through our emails, when she says, “Did you know that this coming week has historically been the most active week?”
I shake my head. “What do you mean?”
“In studying paranormal activity from history, this last week in July measures as the most active. The most UFO sightings, the most alien abductions, the most, well, everything.”
My heart pounds. “Really? Why? What is it about this week?”
Meridian X looks at me, dead serious. “The aliens like warmer weather.”
I’m contemplating whether there’s any validity to this, when she busts out laughing.
“I’m kidding, Charlie. I have no idea. I just know that this week is the most active. So be on the lookout. Okay?”
I will definitely be on the lookout. The door opens, and in walks Seth with his camera around his neck, and I get an idea. This will be the week of our summer adventure.