Things We Know by Heart Read Free Page A

awkward.
    â€œAnyway,” he says, clapping his hands together, “what can I get you this mornin’?”
    I don’t really want anything, but I’m here, and it feels too late to duck out now. Plus he seems nice. “I’ll have a mocha,” I say, not sounding entirely sure.
    â€œThat’s it?” he asks.
    I nod. “Yes.”
    â€œYou sure you don’t want anything else?”
    â€œYes. I mean no thank you—I’m sure.” My eyes drop to the ground, though I can feel him looking at me.
    â€œOkay,” he says after a long moment. His voice gentler now. “I’ll bring it over to you in just a minute.” He gestures at the five or six empty tables. “Plenty of seats—take your pick.”
    I do, a table tucked deep in the corner, facing the window. Outside, the sun melts its way through the morning gray, infusing the water with light and color.
    â€œHere you go.”
    The café guy sets down a steaming, bowl-sized mug and a plate with a giant muffin. “Banana chocolate chip,” he says when I look up. “Tastes like happiness. You seem like maybe you could use a little this morning, so it’s on the house. The coffee, too.”
    He smiles, and I recognize the careful way he does it. It’s not just this morning. It’s the same smile people have given me for a while now, a mix of what looks like compassion and pity, and I wonder what it is he sees in me that makes him think I need it. My posture? Expression? Tone? It’s hard to guess after this long.
    â€œThank you,” I say. And then I try for a real smile back, to assure both of us that I’m okay.
    â€œSee? It’s working already.” He grins. “I’m Chris, by the way. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
    I nod. “Thank you.”
    He goes back to the kitchen, and I lean back in my chair, hot mug cradled between my hands, feeling a little calmer already. Though I can still see the kayak shop across the street, this feels like a safe, reasonable distance. Like I haven’t done anything wrong by being here. A surfer walks by on the sidewalk, and I catch a glimpse of green eyes and tan skin that sends my eyes away quickly, down toward the foam of my mocha. He’s striking. It’s startling to notice, and doing so doesn’t come without a twinge of guilt.
    A moment later the door swings open, and he strides straight toward the counter without seeing me in my corner, dings the bell five times fast. “Hey! Anybody working here today, or you all out in the water?”
    Chris comes back from the kitchen, a smile of familiarity on his face. “Well, look who decided to grace us with hispresence this morning.” They high-five and pull each other into one of those guy half-hugs over the counter. “Good to see you, man. You surf already?”
    â€œWatched the sun come up from the water,” says the one with those eyes. “Just came in. It was good—why didn’t I see you out there?” He reaches for a cup and fills it himself.
    â€œSomebody’s gotta run the place,” Chris says, taking a sip from his own cup.
    â€œSomebody’s priorities are all wrong,” the other one deadpans.
    Chris sighs. “It happens.”
    â€œI know. When you’re not looking,” his friend says simply. He blows gently over his cup. “That’s why you gotta be here now, so you don’t miss that stuff.”
    â€œThat’s deep, dude.” Chris smiles. “Any more wisdom you want to lay on me this morning?”
    â€œNope. But this swell’s supposed to hold up. Sunrise session tomorrow?”
    Chris tilts his head, reordering his priorities.
    â€œCome on.” His friend smiles. “Life’s too short. Why would you not ?”
    â€œAll right,” Chris says. “You’re right. Five thirty. You want grub?”
    When a tiny part of me hopes he answers