Stall

The blurry figure in front of him moved aside and Brian took his place under the order-here sign. The barista's silhouette, a girl with long hair pulled back in a ponytail, stood waiting behind the counter, but Brian looked passed her to the happy-face drawing on the chalkboard menu behind her. Its smile became animated, ready to start their dialogue.
"Hi Brian, do you want your Grande Americano?" the happy, chalk-face asked with the voice of the barista.
"No, not today," He smiled. "A hot chamomile tea please."
"Can I get you anything else?" The chalk-face winked at him.
Brian glanced down to find the barista's name tag. Decorative pins of old eighties movies, the Princess Bride and E.T, surrounded the name Anne. His chest tightened and his face grew hot. "No thank you Anne. Just the tea," he said. He slid a five dollar bill forward and turned to find a path around the line of people that stood waiting to order. His heart pounding, he stared at the ground and focused on his breathing. Controlled breaths in through his nose and slowly out his mouth. The people blurred into dark silhouettes, the pressure in his chest subsided, and his face cooled.
He chose the table closest to the bathroom and sat in the seat with the restroom in his line of sight. He slid his hand into his jacket pocket, squeezed a bottle of pills. He'd take his pills as soon as he had his tea. His date would show up in a half hour, and his pills would last about 90 minutes. If he timed it right, he wouldn't have to make an early exit.
Silhouettes past by his table, moving around the coffee shop, out the doors, in the doors, to the coffee bar line, and to the bathrooms. He noticed them through his peripherals and kept his focus averted. But then one of the silhouettes slid into the seat across from him.
"Brian?"
Brian's chest constricted. He kept his eyes trained on the tabletop. "Sara? I wasn't--"
"Didn't you see me over there waving like an idiot? I was saving us the sofa by the..." She moved to get up but then slumped back into the seat. "That couple just stole it." She looked around. "This is fine I guess."
His pills were in his pocket. He hadn't taken one yet. He had been waiting for his tea. Even if he had taken a pill it would be twenty-seven minutes before he'd be able to interact with her directly. He grasped the pill bottle from the outside of his jacket. His head grew hot.
"You're late," she said. "Just kidding." She giggled and touched his hand that lay palm down on the table.
Brian shot up out of his seat. "Excuse me," he said to the back of Sara's chair. His heart shook his body with each pounding beat. He pulled air in through his nose, and pushed it out through pursed lips, as he walked as normally as he could into the men's bathroom locking the door behind him.
He fumbled the bottle of pills from his jacket pocket, spun the cap and dumped half of the chalky-white pills into his hand. He funneled all but one back into the bottle, a few bounced off the rim and skipped across the floor. He smacked his mouth with his palm but the pill stuck to his hand, so he took it with his teeth and tongue. He washed it down with handfuls of sink water, but the taste of dry pill and salt from his palm remained in his mouth. He'd feel the effects of the pill in twenty-seven minutes. How long could he wait in here? How long would she wait out there?

<<>>

Brian wanted to share Voltron with his kindergarten class, ever since prying it from its box two months ago on his sixth birthday. It came to school in his backpack each week on share day. And at the end of share time his teacher, Mrs. Kesner, would ask him if he'd brought anything to share. The other kids would turn their heads, aiming their faces at him. He'd wipe the tears from his cheeks and shake his head. Please look away. His lips would move. His thoughts almost audible. Please, stop looking at me. By the third week he started leaving his backpack in his cubby, and Mrs. Kesner stopped calling on him. But today would be different. He had practiced all weekend, and his mom had coached him.
Just stare at Voltron. Talk to Voltron.
They gathered on the alphabet rug. Brian plopped down on the letter E, his backpack resting in his lap. He squeezed the robot's body through the green, heavy canvas.
He stared at the carpet in front of his shoes, listening to his other classmates' shares. Every week there were a few Barbies and Tonka trucks, but today there was also a rock with googly eyes, and a lost tooth that would go under a pillow at bedtime. Nothing as good as Voltron. Shiny chromed plastic, bright reds, glossy black, and hands that looked like the jaws of fierce robot lions.
"Is there anyone else that brought something to share?" Mrs. Kesner asked.
His arms tensed around his green backpack, then he raised his hand up just above his shoulder.
The girl next to him shouted. "Brian's got something."
He cringed and retracted his hand.
"Brian?" Mrs. Kesner said. "Oh, wonderful." Her hands clapped together. "Come on up Brian."
Brian started to hyperventilate. He heard his mom's voice in his head. If you start breathing fast, just close your eyes and breathe in through your nose, then blow it out in a silent whistle. His breath hitched, but he was controlling it.
"Brian?" his teacher said. "Do you have something for show and tell?"
Brian nodded but kept his eyes trained on his backpack's zipper. He pushed himself up then walked around the mass of children who spread out across the floor. Stepping into position beside Mrs. Kesner, he fumbled with the backpack's zipper, opening it enough to plunge his arm down to the bottom. He pulled Voltron out and let his backpack fall to the ground.
He stared at Voltron's face picturing the toy robot's lips moving, hearing his robot voice in his mind. "Hi Brian."
Although Mrs. Kesner was speaking right next to him, her voice sounded foggy and distant. "That's a shiny toy. Can you tell us about him?" She said.
Voltron turned his head towards Mrs. Kesner and then back to Brian. "Brian, I can't remember who I am or how you got me. Can you tell me?" Voltron said.
"This is Voltron-- "
"Can you speak up Brian, so that everyone can hear," Mrs. Kesner interrupted.
Brian's face and neck warmed, and his hands shook.
"I can't hear you Brian, just a little louder," Voltron said.
"This is Voltron, I got him for my birthday."
A few of the boys gasped. "Can you pass him around so we can see him?" one of the boys asked.
Brian's breathing quickened, his hands were moist with sweat.
"Brian, is it all right if we pass your toy around for everyone to see, or would you like to walk around to each of your classmates so that they can get a closer look?" Mrs. Kesner asked.
The kids sitting on the ground in front of him came into focus. Their eyes were on him, demanding he say something. The heat swelled in his arms, his chest, and his face.
"Brian, are you feeling okay?" Mrs. Kesner's hand touched his shoulder.
A flood of saliva pooled in his mouth, the room spun, and Brian threw up.
The children in the splash zone screamed.

<<<>>>

Every few minutes Brian cracked the bathroom door and peaked out to make sure Sara hadn't left yet, and see if his tea was waiting at the bar. When he saw his tea, he beelined for the bar, grabbed the white to-go cup, and took his seat across from Sara. She did most of the talking, but it was the white to-go cup that Brian spoke to.
The plastic lid and the rim of the cup made a mouth that talked to Brian in Sara's voice.
"What kind of work do you do?" the cup asked.
"I work from home as a data analyst for a market research firm," Brian said.
"I work from home too," the cup said. It slapped its lid with the green paper that dangled from the string of the tea bag. "I've always been really shy, so I thought that my party planning business would force me to come out of my shell." The green paper moved to the cup's mouth to conceal its giggle the long string acting as an arm.
She must have put shy and works from home in her profile. Although the dating site claimed to be scientific, Brian thought it was more a matter of how many of the same boxes got checked. Sara had no idea what shy was.
"So, I know we were only planning on a coffee date but there is this new bar I want to check out. Maybe we could go over there a bit later. I love dancing." The plastic cup's mouth couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Last Friday I was still dancing when the lights came on at The Port Bow. They have these two platforms with dance poles in the middle. They call them crow's nests. I don't know why. Everything is like sea themed, so you'd think it would be a seagull nest. But anyway, usually only the servers get to dance in there, but at the end of the night, they were closing, and the lights came on and the bouncers were like If you're not staff or pole dancers get out. So you know what I did?" The top of the cup wagged back and forth, its tea string paper now a fist resting on its hip. "I got up in the crow's nest and started spinning around on that pole."
Brian pictured the white to-go cup spinning around a chrome pole, complete with mirror ball and smoke machine. Twisting its top half like it was looking over its shoulder while twerking. Brian laughed.
Sara's foot touched his leg under the table and he jumped.
"Are you okay Brian?" Sara asked. The rim and lid of the cup weren't moving anymore.
"Yeah, I'm okay." He was now very aware of the woman sitting across from him. His chest tightened. His face flushed.
"Brian what's wrong with you? You haven't looked at me once the whole time I've been here."
He looked at his watch. Just a few more minutes. He focused on his cup and thought of the picture from Sara's dating profile. "I think your green eyes are very pretty."
In his peripherals he saw her slip backwards into her chair. Her arms crossed. "I used to wear contacts okay? I had LASIKs." Her voice raised. "You don't look exactly like your picture either you know."
He could taste the bile rising to his throat. "Excuse me for a moment." His chair shot backwards as he jumped up and bolted for the restroom.

<<<>>>

Brian stood next to his mom's bed, his hair and pajamas damp from sweat.
"What's wrong honey?" his mom asked. The green numbers of her alarm clock illuminated her face.
"I had a bad dream." He sniffed and wiped his face with his pajama-sleeve.
Earlier that evening, they had watched ET the Extra-Terrestrial. Brian had slowly burrowed his way under the couch cushions before asking his mom if they could take a break.
"It was just a movie honey." She propped her head up with one arm and brushed his wet hair away from his forehead with her other hand.
"But it could happen," he said.
"Well it's not going to happen." She lifted her sheet and Brian climbed in next to her. He snuggled in close to his mom and lay quietly for a few minutes.
"Mommy?" he whispered.
"Hmm?"
"I dreamed that I could talk to this other kid just like I was talking to you, and then these people came and took him away." His voice wavered.
She gave him a squeeze. "I have that same dream about you, but no one ever takes your friend away."
He sniffed. "Really?"
"Yup, here, I'll let you borrow my dream." She mimed cracking an egg on his head, then dragged her fingers across his scalp, down his face, then tickled underneath his chin.
He squirmed. "Okay, okay, I got it."
"Are you sure? I better do it again?" She tickled him some more.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure!" He tried to catch his breath.
His mom stop tickling him and pulled him in for another hug. "Don't worry sweetie, talking to the other kids will get easier. You're just going through a phase."

<<<>>>

The pressure in Brian's chest melted away, as did the tension in his face and shoulders. The pills had kicked in. He felt lighter, and a little dizzy. The good kind of dizzy. Maybe he could salvage this date. He opened the bathroom door. Sara was gone.
He returned to the table where his to-go cup waited for him, but it was no longer dancing and talking. He sat down, looked out the window at the parking lot, and reached for his tea--
A woman's hand covered the lid before he could bring it to his lips. "Don't drink that," she said. Her voice was the same as the happy, chalk-face that had taken his order. Anne. Her fingers grazed his index finger as she took the cup from him. The memory of her touch lingered as she took his drink and threw it in the trash can.
The ET pin, a full moon with Elliott on his bicycle and ET in the front basket, dangled from the rolled up green apron that was half stuffed in her purse.
"Do you have a problem with people drinking cold tea?" Brian asked.
"I'll get you another one. That girl spit in it," Anne said.
Brian laughed. "Thank you, but I was done with it anyway."
"Does that happen to you a lot?" she asked.
"No, not a lot," he smiled at her. Her eyes were light blue and brightened when she smiled back at him.
"It's for the best." She looked out the window to the parking lot. "She's a caramel mocha frappuccino with whip and caramel sauce." She turned to him. "You're a Grande Americano. It would've never worked out."
He smiled. "Is that so? And what are you?"
"I'm a hot chamomile tea." She winked. "See you tomorrow Brian."
Brian watched her as she pushed through the door and walked around the building. He thought of her eyes and her smile. Tomorrow, he would take his pills before leaving his apartment.
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