New Brooks Café

            It was nearing the end of the spring semester.  Everyone was getting ready to graduate and move on to the next step in his or her plan for success. Some wanted to become doctors, lawyers, bankers, and all that fancy stuff, but I’ve never had such ambition.  The only thing I had was a letter from my father.  “Shape up, son.  If I don’t see an improvement in your grades, you’re going to be paying for all of your tuition.”  Shit.  All I could do was sit in my room and stare at the off-white walls around me wondering if life was just an indefinite mess.  The blurry glow of the computer screen and the fuzzy pixels of the television seemed to cast an interrogative spot light upon me. What is the reason why we do these things?  Why aren’t we ever content?  How did we ever get here in the first place?  Where do we say, “This is as far as I’ll go?”  I would frequently ask myself these questions attempting to receive an answer.  But to no avail, I would always come up empty handed.  No longer able to endure the prodding glare of the inanimate devices, I walked into the kitchen to find something to eat.  Expired milk, a stick of butter, two slices of bread, and a half empty can of Coke was all I could find.  Thank you, Michael, you douche bag.  Unsatisfied with my fruitless search for food, I collapsed into bed futilely attempting to doze off the hunger.  As my eyes wondered aimlessly around the room, they happened to pass over my old comic collection.  What ever happened to reading those things?  I used to be in love with them.  The nostalgic smell of the pages, the vivid colors, the super heroes flying back and forth; I surely did miss it.  As the buzzing lamp above brought me out of my brief daydream, I positioned my head back, eyes shifting left and right with uneasiness.  As I sluggishly stepped into sleep, my gaze drifted to the oatmeal ceiling.  For a moment everything went still, and all I could feel was the indifferent beige gazing right back at me.

The cracking of my door and the beam of incandescent light drew me out of my pseudo slumber.

            “Wassup, bro,” Miachel greeted me.  “Class was such a pain in the ass, man.  Honestly, I have no idea why I’m in medical school.  If it weren’t for my parents, I’d probably be doing psychology or some shit.”
            “What the fuck do you want?” I managed drowsily, fighting the urge to drift back to sleep.
            “Nothing really.  I was just looking for Darth Vapor.  I brought a few friends over, if you don’t mind, to take some rips.  You want in?”
            Apathetically I pointed my finger in the direction of the bookshelf.  “You left it over there.”

“Thanks, dude.  I couldn’t survive without you.”

Pulling the sheets over my head, I attempted to drown out the ruffling of Michael’s giddy prancing over the mounds of dirty laundry scattered across my floor. 

“Whoa! You have the complete Tintin collection?  I used to read these all the time back home.”
            “Huh? Oh yeah.  I have them all,” I replied under the covers.  “Hold on, why are you looking through my shit?”
            “Uh no reason,” Michael answered quickly.  “Holy crap.  Did you draw this?  Since when did you draw?  It looks exactly like the old school Batman.”
            “Yeah.  I don’t know it’s been a long time.  I haven’t drawn in a while,” I answered indifferently.
            “You’ve got some talent, man.  If I were you I’d be drawing nonstop.”

When I was younger, drawing was the only thing that mattered to me.  Day and night, I’d be sketching scenes from my favorite comics.  Why did I stop drawing anyways?  Oh yeah because you can’t make money for shit being an artist. I forgot.

“Whatever,” I replied.

“Honestly, dude, if I had your talent, I wouldn’t stick around at this shit hole place called college.  I’d go become a cartoonist or something.  Imagine being the creator of a childhood superhero like Superman.  It’d be so raw.”
            “Yeah.”
            Quietly lying under the khaki blankets, the sound of drowned out yelling from the living room crept into my ears.
            “Hey I gotta go, but keep up the drawing dude, you’re definitely on to something,” Michael said hastily.  Responding to the impatient calls from the other room and knocking my dusty action figures of my desk as he scampered out, he bellowed “Chill out bro’s! I found it!”  Michael, you douche bag.   I’m trying to sleep.

Crawling out of bed, I heard the faint The Office ring tone coming from the other room.  Shit, who’s calling me this time?  Dragging my feet to open the door, I’m welcomed by an intense back draft of marijuana and burning embers.  Jesus Michael, take it easy.  As I stepped into the smokehouse of a living room, I could see my phone flickering with the notification of a text message.  “You promised to have coffee with me a New Brooks Café, don’t forget.  –Elyssa” it read.  Crap, I forgot.  In a hurry, I grabbed my coat from the arm of the couch, slipped on the nearest pair of shoes, and ran out of the door. 
            The sun shone overhead with little clouds to interfere as a crisp breeze swooped by waking me from my sleepy daze.  Briskly jogging a few blocks, wiping the crust from my eyes, I saw the biscuit colored sign that read “New Brooks Café” in simple Arial font.  As I approached the café I heard a call from the left.
            “Evan! Over here!  Wow this is the first time you haven’t blown me off in a while,” Elyssa called out cheerfully.  “Here, pull a seat.  How have you been?  I haven’t seen you in class lately.”
            “I’ve been all right I guess.  I don’t really know where my head has been lately.  How about yourself?”
            Elyssa stared straight into my eyes.  It was as if she was reading me like a book, and for a brief moment I felt completely vulnerable, naked.  “You’re not alright.”  Pulling my hands towards hers she continued, “I know you better than that.  Don’t think you can trick me.  That blank face you’ve got says it all.  What’s up, hun? ”
            Elyssa grew up an only child in a small house with two loving parents.  Throughout high school and college, scoring A’s, playing sports, and socializing were a breeze for her.  She was the epitome of what every adolescent strived to be.

All of her teachers would praise her and say, “Oh Elyssa you have such a future ahead of you.  I’ve got friends up high that would love to have you intern for them!”

But the she would always politely respond, “No thank you.”

I shifted in my seat, looking for something to say, but all that came out was a bland “Um.”
            She held my hands tightly and kept her reassuring gaze upon me.  “Take your time.”
            It started off with a slight tingling sensation.  I felt it slowly circle in my stomach and then rise into my chest.  Suddenly in one shot, everything came bursting out.  “I don’t know how the fuck you do it.  You’re the perfect human being.  You could have any job you want.  Everyone is in love with you.  It’s like the world revolves around you.  So why the hell did you choose to be a-”
            “Flower stand girl?”  She giggled. “Yeah, I know.  Weird, right?”
            “Outrageous actually,” I added.
            “Why? Aren’t flowers nice? I don’t see a reason why it’s so appalling.”

            “You could be the scientist that finds the cure for cancer in some prestigious lab or something.  You’ve got the résumé to do it.”
            “But I don’t want to.”
            “What?  But you’d be rich.”
            “But I like flowers, Evan.”
            “So? Do you really-“
            “Evan, honestly I don’t care about a high paying job.  It’s just money.  I’ve always loved flowers and that’s that.  No matter how much money I could earn, flowers will always be my passion.  Despite what everyone says, you can’t go about life hoping one day that you’ll end up happy.  You might just end up miserable.  You’ve got to realize what you love now and hold on to it and never let go.  Do that, and you’ll be content with yourself.”
            Overwhelmed, I sat looking at the park across the street attempting to absorb what she had said.  Content.  Content.  Content.  I want that.

“Just ask yourself, Evan.  What do you love in life?”

            I had never asked myself that before.  The more I thought about it, the more it appeared to be the answer to all my questions.  Everyone use to tell me that comics were lame and immature, and I would believe them, but now I realized that it didn’t matter.  Denying myself of the only thing I cared about had made me numb.  The fact was-- I loved to draw.
            With Elyssa’s hands grasped tightly around mine, everything started to come into focus.  Her eyes lingered on mine with a mellow hazel, the trees shimmered with a budding green coat as a breeze shook their leaves, the sky above me shone with a cobalt blue, and the “New Brooks Café” sign above filled with a deep golden brown.