Not quite like Casablanca
Nate’s Beanery, the cozy coffee shop across the street from my dorm, is a welcoming haven for caffeine enthusiasts, particularly students in Morningside Heights. Rows of apartments and dormitories dotted the area, including mine, and Nate’s Beanery stands out with its endearing classic Hollywood film theme, a reflection of the owners’ passion for cinema.
The décor exudes a charming theme that pays homage to classic Hollywood films. Vintage posters of cinematic legends like Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart adorn the walls. The biggest poster being Casablanca, Nate's favorite film of all time.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the warm and welcoming atmosphere, creating an inviting space that’s perfect for relaxing or getting lost in your thoughts.
The air is filled with the soothing melody of soft jazz music, setting the perfect backdrop for studying, reading, or simply sharing conversations with friends. Dimly lit chandeliers cast a warm, gentle glow, creating a sense of intimacy amid the lively buzz of chatter. Nate’s Beanery is a place where time seems to slow down, offering respite from the hectic pace of the city.
Nate and his partner, Sean, are a couple who share their love not only for coffee but also for each other. They met as students at Columbia and, after graduation, fulfilled their dream by starting this coffee shop. Their genuine affection for each other warms the place, making it more than just a cafe. They were the first friends I made when I moved here as a freshman at Columbia, even before meeting my roommates, Anya and Sarah.
Nate greets us with his characteristic warmth as Nikko and I enter the shop. His infectious smile eases the uneasiness I had felt moments ago.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, Liv,” Nate says with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “Are you having the usual double-shot spiced latte?”
“Hi, Nate,” I reply, relieved by the familiar surroundings. “I got caught up in research work lately and didn’t have time to drop by. And yes, I’m having the usual.”
Nate then turns his attention to Nikko, who’s scrutinizing the vast coffee menu. “That’s cool. What does your friend fancy?” he asks. “Oh, don’t bother with that. You like it strong? Creamy? Sweet? Or just plain robust?”
Nikko rubs the back of his neck, his shyness charming in its own way. “Um... I’ll just have what she’s having,” he says, offering a shy grin. “And a slice of apple pie, please.”
I chime in, introducing Nikko to Nate. “This is Nikko. He’s a drummer in a band. They play splendid music.”
Nate’s eyes widen, genuinely interested. “Aw, a musician, huh? I’ve never seen you around here before, though, Nikko— Are you in Liv’s class, too?”
Nikko replies with a friendly smile, sharing a bit about himself. “Yeah, my apartment’s in Harlem, and I’m in my last year at Columbia.”
Nate’s cheerful surprise is palpable. “You’re graduating, and you still have time to gig with the band?”
I can’t help but laugh. “We get that a lot from Nate— he was at the top of his class, which is why.”
Nikko joins in the laughter. “Yeah, that’s true. But I’m more of a crammer... hammering it out at the last minute.”
Nate’s face lights up as he continues their conversation. “Well, you’re welcome to cram in here. We’re open until 2 AM, and the Wi-Fi is free. I might even extend it for another hour, depending on my customer’s charms. But you kid need your sleep, okay?” Nate playfully chides himself, then returns to his friendly duties. “Alright, I’m blabbering again. I’ll bring your orders to your table in a bit. Get yourselves comfortable.”
I offer a quiet aside to Nikko as we take our seats at a table near a shelf displaying vinyl records. “Nate can be really chatty, huh? But he’s a great guy.”
I feel a sense of nostalgia as I sit down at a table near a shelf showcasing an assortment of vinyl records, their covers reminiscent of another era. These musical relics tell stories of decades past and resonate with the souls of the patrons.
As I observe the relaxed and unpretentious ambiance, the sights and sounds of the coffee shop remind me of my early days at Columbia. Nate and Sean were my first friends in the neighborhood, extending a warm welcome to a freshman who had just arrived at the university. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air and the cozy yet lively chatter around me evoke memories of those simpler times.
Nikko seems earnest about making amends, and his previous charm shines through. “I don’t mind... he’s just being friendly, and I’m beginning to like this place because of it. I might just take up on his offer and study here during exams,“ he says. After a moment, he shifts in his seat, broaching the topic that still lingers between us. “So—about the other night—am I truly forgiven?”
I smile and reassure him, appreciating his effort. “Yup... forgiven and forgotten. I also think I may have reacted too harshly.”
Nikko, those apologetic puppy-dog eyes, looks relieved but still seeks validation. “I—I didn’t perceive you to be so conservative—”
I explain, not wanting him to carry guilt any longer. “Nope... I’m not. It’s just... I’m not comfortable being intimate with anyone so quickly,” I admit with a self-conscious chuckle.
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”
His continual remorse prompts me to halt the apologies.
“It’s okay... and stop apologizing already.”
As I sit across from Nikko, I can’t help but reflect on how my feelings for him have shifted. I once held my breath when he passed me in the hallways, but now that he’s right here in front of me, the heart-fluttering sensation I once felt seems to have vanished. He’s just like any other guy—nothing more, nothing less.
Nate approaches our table with a tray of our orders, drawing me back to the present moment. His friendly demeanor and genuine interest in his customers make this café a true neighborhood gem. Nate doesn’t just serve coffee; he brews connections and memories that keep people coming back.
Triggered by the array of old vinyls staring at us, Nikko and I dive into a lively conversation about our shared musical interests, exploring favorite bands, musicians, and singers. The nostalgia of old tunes strikes a chord with us both.
“Somehow, old tunes of the 80s and 90s era are making a comeback, huh?” I observe. “I like that vibe— U2 is my favorite among them, and I notice you use a similar beat in your music.”
“Exactly… reviving the music of the era is quite refreshing. I hate those mechanical tunes they often play in the clubs nowadays. It’s nice to hear music made with the human touch,” he says. His eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, evidently showing his love for music.
“You really are an artist, Nikko. You should have taken a program in music. Why are you in the Humanities?” I ask.
“Well, it’s because the Philosophy program, I think, is the closest thing to music. My parents won’t let me pursue music. If my mom finds out I’ve joined a band, I’ll be dead meat. After I graduate, my dad wanted me to go to law school and follow in his footsteps—”
“Your dad’s a lawyer? My dad is a lawyer, too, but he never tried to convince me out of what I’ve already decided for myself.”
“Good for you. Girls will always have that freedom, I guess. Especially when your parents are like mine. They wanted to control everything, as if they have absolute knowledge of who I am and what I want. Well… they barely had the faintest idea…”
“I’m sorry to hear what you have to deal with,” I say. “But did it ever occur to you to stand up for yourself? Talk to your dad, heart-to-heart, man-to-man.”
“Too late for that… my dad passed away last year. And he already put everything in his will. I stand to lose the trust fund he’d saved up for me, and my mom may lose the house if I don’t finish law school.”
“Oh, my—” I gasp.
“Yup, I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be… I’m just doing my best to meet my parents’ expectations for now… I’m sure I’ll get my freedom after law school. So this gig I’m doing with the band is what keeps me alive till then,” he says, flashing a lopsided grin.
As our talk delves into more personal territory, I find my attention momentarily diverted. A familiar figure enters the coffee shop—Liam. He stands at the counter, placing an order before settling into a seat near the entrance.
Confusion clouds my thoughts. Why is he here after sending that abrupt breakup message? He should be in Hell’s Kitchen, where he lodges. Liam appears immersed in his phone, engrossed in a text conversation. I glance at my phone, half-expecting a message that never comes.
Unaware of my distracted state, Nikko continues recounting his journey with his bandmates. “Stanley made the introductions, and that’s how we started the Woofing Wolf band,” he explains. “If you have time this weekend, would you like to watch our rehearsals?”
I nod, my mind only half-engaged in the conversation. “Oh, sure… sounds exciting.”
“Cool! I’ll pick you up at two, alright?”
“Sure…” I respond, though my focus remains fixed on Liam, debating whether I should approach him and address the unresolved tension.
As I prepare to rise from my chair, another newcomer catches my eye. A girl strides purposefully toward Liam’s table, taking a seat beside him. It’s Roni. My heart takes a sharp dive and lands heavily on my gut. It’s clear now. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, each one fitting perfectly to reveal a painful truth. Liam isn’t here for me.
He dumped me for Roni?