A Conversation over Coffee

written by Rebekah Hamrick

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“I need you to come to the coffee shop near your house, I need to tell you something very important”

I got this text an hour ago from my friend. I walk into the coffee shop and see her sitting in one of the booths in the far right corner of the café. I walk up to her and sit down on the seat in front of her.

“What's wrong? Did something happen?”

She looks so sad. She has red streaks running down her face and her eyes are puffy, like she's been crying for hours.

She looks up at me with puppy-like eyes. I wanna help her but she has to tell me what's wrong first. She looked up at me with a smile, but the smile wasn't one of her heart melting ones.

“You'll never know what happened.”

I lean forward, taking her hands into mine. “Please, tell me what happened. I wanna help you. I hate seeing you like this.”

She looks down at her lap, taking her hands and putting them into her lap, starting to play with them.

“My-My mom got into a car accident and-”

Tears started pouring out of her eyes, and she started shaking so violently I thought she was having a seizure. I moved to the seat she was sitting in, and I wrapped my arms around her.

“Shhhh, it's going to be alright i promise, I'll be here for you. Come on, let's head back to your place. I'll make you some food.”

She nodded her head and grabbed a napkin to wipe her eyes and nose while she got up and headed to the door.

When we got to her house, we sat on the couch.

“Would you like me to cook something or would you wanna order something?”

“Pizza is fine with me.”

I didn’t know how to comfort her. I was never out in this position before. I grew up with a family that if you cried you would get hit. I don't deal with my emotions right and I think she figured that out cause when she looked at me, her eyes were filled with pity. How can she do that? Her mom is in the hospital and she probably spent hours crying, but she's looking at me with pity in her eyes.

“Don't look at me like that.”

I walked to her fridge, picked out two water bottles and handed her one of them. “Don't look at you like what?”

“Don't look at me with pity Josie. Your mom is literally in the hospital, you don't have to sit there and feel bad or worried for me.”

She looked so sad at that moment, and I immediately regretted what I said.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come out so mean.”

I walk to her and sit down, giving her a hug. When she finally pulled away I gave her my phone and told her to order some pizza that she was in the mood for while I picked a movie for us to watch until it arrived. When I got done picking, I got up and sat on the couch while she got up to go take a shower and change into more comfortable clothes.

When she left, I was alone with my thoughts. Something I never really liked, which is why I always tried to stay with people, but sometimes it doesn't always work the way I wanted it to.

I was thinking about everything that happened earlier, the way my heart was racing when she sent me that message, the way when I saw her in that booth, the way my heart broke into a million little pieces. I didn't know what to do, I couldn’t help her at all. I was stuck in place when I walked through the threshold of the coffee shop. I was helpless. As I sit on the couch in her living room, I can hear the shower turn on. As I’m sitting there, everything that I was trying to keep down, the memories, the thoughts, they all came washing back to me.

When she came out of the bathroom, I somewhat had myself under control and I wasn't shaking as much. We went on to watch a movie called “One Piece” and after we were done, I went home.

By the time I got home, I didn't have any escape now. My thoughts were destroying me. I tried not to think, but the silence was a killer too. So, I let everything flash in front of my eyes, all the emotions, feelings, everything.

I got up to my room and grabbed my notebook. Writing things down always helped me forget things, or at least helped me feel better, so there couldn't be any harm in trying right?

So I begin writing.

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Rebekah is a sophomore at Cherokee High.