Coffee-Stained Romance, Chapter Two: Tuesday

Chapter Two: Wednesday

Kelly May Shaw awoke with a start. She was having a dream that involved worms and garbage cans and something about a pillow. It didn’t matter; her alarm was about to go off at any second. She turned from her bed and stood up slowly. Kelly arched her back, stretching it after that hard sleep, the dream fading quickly.

She walked into the bathroom, did her business and hopped into the shower. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged in her bathrobe, her hair up in a towel that reminded her of a turban. When she was a kid, she would invite the neighbor boy over and made him wear a towel-turban and pretended he was Punjab from ‘Annie.’ Part of her wondered if that was offense in these less than innocent days.

Kelly grabbed the paper, eyes briefly glancing over the headlines. Two suicide attacks in Israel kills 16 and injures 60; there’s also the WTO issuing impositions on sanctions on the US for global trade law violations. She glanced over some of the other headlines, then grabbed her completed contact form for Democrats At Maxwell and slipped it into her backpack.

Kelly’s expert hands crafted a homemade Vanilla Mocha Espresso, which she sipped as she reviewed her campus map and class schedule.

Her hair dried, Kelly pulled on a yellow sleeveless top and a brown skirt. She put on a little jewelry here and there (a bracelet from her Mom, a necklace she picked up over the summer, a pair earrings) and left her apartment. In her hand was her new schedule, since her last one was kicked out of Maxwell University’s system because her father’s payment was just a wee bit late.

Writing for Web was first. It was a class she dreaded; nothing but some 40-something Professor trying to be web-savvy and hip. He didn’t even know what LOL or BRB meant.

Kelly walked to the parking lot beside her complex and leapt into her Jeep Liberty. She drove off to her first class, which was clear on the other side of campus. She lived right across the street, but on the north side. Writing for Web and Mass Communication were both located in the O’Brien and Surber Buildings to the south. Her third class for the day, Interactive Media, was near the center of campus – White Building.

This was Kelly’s first semester here at Maxwell State University, having completed two years in Technical Communication at Stark State. She was able to transfer seamlessly without losing a single credit. However, there were some small issues. Kelly was 23 and a few of her classes had kids fresh outta high school in them. The small gap was enough to surprise her. She was embarrassed to talk about her semesters off or why it took her so long to get her Associates Degree.

Kelly tried not to give a damn; tried not to care. But she did. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help but wonder what people thought of her. Did they maybe think she was stupid for having to be in school for so long? Did they think she came from a poor family?

She assured herself that they probably didn’t care at all. What did it matter? What did it matter what anyone thought of her?

Kelly turned on NPR and finished her drive to class.

She actually parked at the White Building, and then walked to Surber. People passed her left and right, but she didn’t pay them any attention. White Building made up three buildings that circled the Campus Center, where the administrative offices were. This was all the fairly new while Surber and O’Brien were the older buildings. O’Brien actually used to the Campus Center until 1959. This was all detailed to her in the visitation packet and the new student information book that now sat in her living room.

Her first class was as boring as she expected it. Writing for Web was one class that she had hoped would have gotten re-scheduled and she had gotten a new instructor during the whole new schedule fiasco. No such luck, of course. Of course.

Mass Communication was next and it was located across from Surber in O’Brien. Not only was it the Journalism building, it also held headquarters to the ‘To The Max’ newsmagazine and the ‘Daily Maxwell,’ the daily Maxwell University newspaper. Mass Communication was a far more interesting class and while they were still dealing with things Kelly learned back at Stark State, she was nonetheless interested in what this school had to say about them.

Interactive Media had surprised her. A name like that and there were no computers to be found. The Professor was looked to be in her fifties, but as she spoke and explained about the relationship between culture and media, Kelly could tell right off the bat that she was smarter than the Writing for Web Prof.

Kelly left the White Building and got back into her jeep. It was warm, the summer still stretching hard into September. She returned home and couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a hypocrite. Kelly loved to think of herself as green – very environmentally conscience. And yet, here she was, running her little gas-guzzling jeep to work and school when they were really not that far away. Walking distance, really.

“I gotta blog about this,” she mumbled as her apartment door was swung open. She had an hour and a half before work.

The living room was made of old furniture that didn’t match each other (a blue plaid couch, a red chair, and fake wood TV stand). Movie posters sat framed on the walls. The kitchen was comprised of coffee memorabilia – signs made to look old and worn advertising coffees and teas. A few coffee books sat on the counter between the microwave and the coffee-maker.

She was a coffee addict.

Kelly got changed into something less dressy. Jeans, black shirt, hair in a ponytail. She sat down and got on-line and started typing away in her LiveJournal:

Second day of “new” classes. Wasn’t too bad. I still hate my Writing for Web Professor, though. He’s just so pompous and arrogant and, well, really has no idea what he’s talking about. I was really thinking ‘Man! How progressive! Writing for Web! Awesome!’ And instead, I get Professor Mallory, who I think helped create the Internet, but hasn’t spent anytime on it.

Loved Interactive Media, though. Same with Mass Communication.

I’m officially launching my ‘Kelly Goes Green’ initiative tomorrow. I need to stop being such a hypocrite and just start walking. Unless it rains. Also, I bought these canvas shopping bags at the grocery store last week. I am going to use them on Saturday. I may look like a dork

using them, but damn it, I gotta start somewhere, right?

Right.

Okay, well, gotta head off to work soon. Coffee won’t make itself!

Kelly posted, checked her friends entries, then put up a new Away Message and headed on out. She did actually drive her jeep, since it would be late when she’d get off and she didn’t know how long it would take her to get to work by foot.

She arrived at Coffee Haven.

“Hey Kelly,” Danielle greeted behind the counter. She was the one that got Kelly the job.

“Hey,” Kelly replied and slipped through the door that led to the side-room off the counter. “Busy today?”

“Not very. How was class?”

“Not too bad.”

Kelly worked at Coffee Haven for two months now, having moved here in July.

While Danielle handled the counter, getting drink orders for Chocolate Mocha Carmel Turtles and Espresso Delights and Coffee Launchers, Kelly filled the large coffee containers that sat on the shelf behind them, under a sign that said: ‘COFFEES OF THE WORLD!’ sitting between two hand-drawn pictures of the Earth. Ten hand-pump canisters filled with Kenya AA, Mocha Java, Costa Rican Terrazu, Sumatra, French Roast, Italian Roast, Columbian Supremmo, Kona Island Blend, Jamaican Blue Mountain, and Guatemala Estate were soon warm and ready to pour.

The rest of the work day was pretty easy and usually just involved making a few drinks and here and there. Jack, the manager showed up an hour later, a friendly guy in his mid-thirties. A bit of a hippie and beat-nick. Coffee-lover.

By the time 11:00 PM rolled around, Kelly was ready to go. The last group of coffee-drinkers were gently pushed out the door and Kelly wiped down the tables.

She returned home, opened her Lit book and started reading Ernest Hemmingway’s ‘A Clean, Well-Lighted Place.’