The Coffee House
The coffee house at the end of our road was always empty, no customers, ever. So every Saturday I would walk in, grab a cup of their “famous” homemade hot chocolate, which was far from famous, and sit by the window looking out at the people walking by. Outside that window, I could see a direct view of Killington Mountain in Vermont. On snowy days, skiers gracefully slid down the long windy trails. On summer days, you could make out a pack of foxes or geese flying off in the distance. I remember one day, a man was painting a picture of the mountain and I asked if I could buy it off of him. That picture is hanging above my kitchen sink, reminding me of the day I met you.
It was seven years ago to this day, and my Saturday was turning out to be a bad day. So I headed down to that small coffee house, hoping for a sour hot chocolate to brighten up my day. Usually I’m the only one in there at ten o’clock in the morning, but today there was someone sitting ay my place by the window. He wore a green, cargo coat, a messy haircut, and bright blue eyes that seemed to burn right through the window.
So after getting my hot chocolate, I took a seat beside him. “Hey, you stole my seat.” He was confused and I explained to him my weekly Saturday routine. We looked about the same age, 24, fresh out of college.
Come to think of it, we could have been mistaken for brother and sister. We both had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and pursed lips looking for answers.
Anyways, I asked this stranger why he decided to come to the coffee house, where he was from, and his name.
“My name is John Fulham, I live right down the street from here, and I decided to come to this dreadful coffee house to find some kind of peace.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.”
“For the past few months, this place has been my sanctuary.”
He seemed to understand. “Every now and then I would walk by here and see you sitting right here in this very spot, soaking up the mountain views.”
Every Saturday became a ritual. We would meet at approximately ten o’clock in the coffee house and talk about our week, sometimes we would get more in depth and talk about life in the past.
I learned that John grew up with two deaf parents and had one sibling, a younger sister. He is 25 years old, and works as an accountant for a local company. I also learned that he has never had a serious girlfriend.
Then one day John showed up with a wild look in his eyes. I saw he was holding something but I didn’t know what.
Quiet and uneasy he drank his coffee in one gulp. He ended up leaving early and did not come back the next Saturday.
Well, I never found out what he was holding, all I know was that it was shaped like a small box.
Now I see why John hasn’t had any serious relationships, he has cold feet.
I waited two Saturdays and finally he met up with me again. He said “ I’m sorry I haven’t been showing up lately, my mind has been in an odd place. I am moving to Maine this week and I’m afraid we’ll never see each other again.” At that sad departure, he left me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He also left me his new address.
So for the next two years I lived my life, had a few boyfriends but I could never forget the boy in the coffee shop. I continued my job, owning a small boutique in the center of Killington, Vermont.
After two years went by, the seasons changing, my mind wandering from my work, I wrote a note to John.
I reminded him of all the memories, jokes, and conversations that little coffee house provided in our time of need. I mailed it to him hesitantly and decided to forget about it, just in case he didn’t write back.
Two weeks later, I received a letter back.
He told me of his new life, he got married, had a kid, and pursued his dream, flying an airplane.
I was happy for him, truly happy. So I decided to finally move on and within the next year I thought I had found my Prince Charming.
His name was James and he tried so hard to win my heart. So after deep consideration I thought he was the one for me. We always had our little tiffs and arguments but I never thought I would let him go.
John and I were still writing back and forth and I was reminded constantly of how much I missed him and his bright blue eyes. Every time I went to the newly popular, and renovated, coffee house I looked for him at the window. He was never there and I tried to tell myself he never was going to be.
Our lives changed, the coffee house changed, and so did our letters. One day I decided not to write him back a letter. It was time to officially moved on, or that’s what I told myself.
Well, my marriage didn’t work out, we went our separate paths and I finally wrote back to John.
Turns out his wife was cheating on him. She took the kids and moved out.
After a hard decision, John thought life would be better in Vermont. I was ecstatic he was coming back, so I threw him a “welcome back” party. It was a hit and everyone we knew was there.
So now every Saturday, we meet at the coffee house. Ever since he moved back to Vermont, gave up his career, and forgave his wife, he says he has been a better man. Frankly, I’ve seen the same blue eyes I saw the first day we met.
It took some time to warm back up to each other and honestly I find it a little strange for him to leave his past in the dust, so quickly. But I don’t judge so I never ask.
It’s been two years and we are happily married. We even had a kid of our own, her name is Carla, and she is now 2 months old. We still visit the coffee house every Saturday, with Carla. The business has picked up there and the hot chocolate has improved. The window seat we always used to sit in has been taken up. Now a couple in their young twenties gazes at the mountainside views. We introduced ourselves to them and told them of our story. They told us their story and figured out that they were in the same boat we were. Small world, huh?
We never thought our lives would be where they are now. The mountainside views still creep into out thoughts sometimes. The painting of the incredible views sits above our bed in the house down the street. All our dreams have finally came true.
