I Love Coffee but There is More than Coffee to Coffee

Short Story

I had just spent the last 3 days exploring Washington. Per usual, I was jetting from spot to spot despite telling myself I was going to slow down.

It was on my last day in Eatonville, Washington that I finally slowed down enough and stopped at a coffee shop on my way out of town. I stepped inside and couldn’t believe it… I was allowed to sit down at the Cottage Bakery and Café.

If you know me, then, well, you know that sitting down in a coffee shop is a dream.

I ordered a breakfast croissant, a poppyseed muffin, and a small coffee. I sat down in bliss. I had my journal, bible, and 3 books.

I stayed for a couple of hours with no rush to get home. I struck up conversations with the baristas and was soon wondering or wishing would be the better word, that I had come here daily. I started rehashing my trip, the wrong roads I had taken, the time I had lost, and the fact I could have spent all of that time sipping coffee, reading books, and writing.

Alas, I was able to do it now.

I was going to order a white mocha to-go on my way out, simply because I had enjoyed such a wonderful time there when the barista told me, “You should go to Rivers Coffeehouse on your way back to Portland.”

Sold.

It didn’t take much to sell me. I could hit 2 small town coffee shops in a day. What a dream.

She told me how they had the best coffee and roasted their own beans and made their own syrups. And I would have to take the scenic route to get there (which I planned on anyway).

Still sold. And even more sold!

So I passed on the white mocha and got back on the road south.

I got to the small town of Morton, Washington and started walking when immediately, as if in a moment, all the coffee and the water I had to drink at the last spot wanted to flood out of me. I was walking around the town so I looked for a place to let it out. There were cop cars on one side, so not there. Then a fire station. Not there. Then an elementary school. Definitely not there.

So I hustled back to my car, but before I could get back, I had reached emergency levels. I rushed into Rivers Coffeehouse and Bistro and headed straight to the restroom, where luckily the door was open and waiting for me.

I went, and then headed back outside to get my books and wallet. The barista shouted towards me, “Have a great day!” I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic knowing I had just came in to use the restroom and left. Or if she simply hadn’t noticed and saw me walking out the door. I shouted back, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back!”

I continued my walk around town. I found a cringey motel and walked towards it thinking, “Maybe I could stay here the next time and hang out in this little coffee shop.”

I walked back to Rivers Coffeehouse where I was greeted by the same barista. “I’ll need a minute,” I said to her as she approached. A few minutes later she returned. “I’ll need awhile longer.” Their menu was plush with sandwiches and coffees of all flavors and mixes. A dream come true.

I ordered The Greener sandwich and the Secret Garden Latte, a blend of Lavender, rosemary, misty mountain honey, and black pepper.

I sat down and started to read when an older woman sat near me, a little too near in the time of Covid. I grabbed my sandwich plate and moved it to the other side of me to avoid anything coming out of one’s mouth.

“Do you come here a lot,” she asked. “First time.” “My first time too.”

I don’t mind small talk. I even like it. But I was kind of in the mood to just sit, read, eat, and drink coffee. She asked where I was from (Portland). She shared her opinions on the Portland and Seattle riots. I nodded. She asked what I did for work (Basketball). She told me how amazing her grandson was and how incredible he was at basketball, and football, and everything else in life.

I nodded politely.

And then she asked…

“Are you a single hiker?”

I said yes.

But I knew that wasn’t satisfactory enough for her.

She rephrased, “Are you a single guy?”

I answered the same.

Then she got to her real purpose.

“I have a gorgeous, 5’9 granddaughter, had a boyfriend in high school, they’re not together anymore, did I mention gorgeous granddaughter.”

I nodded.

She went on to tell me about dating apps and online dating.

“It sure has changed a lot,” I said.

I didn’t think she knew what she was talking about until she said, “I met my husband online.”

So I guess she did come with a little online cache.

We parted ways. She never did touch her drink. Or the books she sat on the table. I’m not sure if she just wanted someone to talk to or if she just really wanted her granddaughter to find love.

It was time for me to get back on the road.

It’s been a long while since I’ve been able to connect with so many strangers in a coffee shop.

I guess I still love coffee shops for coffee, reading, and writing… but you can’t put a price on meeting someone new who might just cause you to take a different road home, stop at a place you’ve never been, and have a conversation you would never have had otherwise.

And if you’re into single granddaughters, well, maybe that’s in store too.