Mono–Day 92

Where is the freaking coffee shop?

The map on the phone says it should be on this block, and I’ve searched and searched, but I can’t seem to spot it in this crushing sea of humanity streaming up and down both sides of Broadway. This glorious, diverse, epic, heaving, miraculous sea of humanity that is New York City, my new home for the next four years (after swinging admittance to Columbia with the help of the Changers Council).

“Ouch!” Some guy has just run over my shoe with his bike tire.

“Watch where you’re going, loser!” the biker shouts over his shoulder.

Ah yes, New York. Where the streets are lined with simmering hostility.

It kind of feels good to be back in Ethan’s birth state, embarking on the next big thing. College, yo!

Now, my first class: “Intro to Film and Media Studies” in the Dodge building. I flip open the handy laminated campus map they gave us at orientation and locate the building, right on the northeast corner of Broadway and 116th. Easy. I have twelve minutes to get to class. Enough time for a quick coffee—if I can find one.

I squint down the block, ducking around people as they filter around me.

Bingo! I can just make out the ubiquitous green Starbucks logo through the trees in the median, underneath construction scaffolding, and beside an eminently ancient church, so I run across the street with the walk signal and dip inside.

Shit. There’s a line, but it seems to be moving fast, so I place my order, pay, and step aside to wait.

Come on, folks. Let’s get these orders rolling. My future is now.

“Soy latte?” the bearded barista shouts over the din.

I peek over to see who’s picking up the familiar (yet also completely ordinary) order . . .

And there she is.

Wait, it’s her, right?

Or do I just want it to be her?

The girl’s hair looks a little longer, her frame a bit thicker, and there’s no cane hanging from her wrist . . .

But it’s AUDREY. My Audrey.

And now she’s headed to the condiment bar to plunk the usual two sugars into her cup.

The barista calls my name, so I scoop up my iced coffee, pop off the cap, and rush over before Audrey can finish stirring and slip out the door. When I sidle up to the bar, nervous, I accidentally bump her arm, and a little coffee splashes on her sleeve.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I say, grabbing a few square napkins to clean up.

“It’s no big deal, really,” Audrey laughs. Not a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

“Cute top,” I say, blotting her arm with the paper napkin. Heart pounding.

“It’s mad chaos in here,” she says, seeming a little jittery too. “Like they’re actually shilling good coffee or something.”

We laugh. Eyes lock. And we stay that way, speechless, for far longer than any two complete strangers would usually hold one another’s gaze.

“First day?” Audrey asks finally.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammer. “Columbia. You?”

“Across the street, Barnard.”

I know.

“Your face is familiar,” Audrey says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Have we met?”

Before I can say anything, she hoists her coffee cup to eye level, points at the writing: Audrie. “As you can see, I’m Audrey. Only it’s Audrey with an E-Y.”

“Pleased to meet you, Audrey with an E-Y,” I say.

“And you are . . . ?” she asks, while simultaneously reaching over and twisting my cup around so she can read the name scribbled messily on the side.

Our fingers touch around the backside of the cup.

It feels something like the sun.

She reads from the cup.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” she pauses, “Drew.”

 

 

 

THE BEGINNING