Family and Coffee

The noise rang out in the dorm that morning. Music echoed from almost every wall in the building as girls chatted loudly in the corridors, idling away. Not many people had classes that day, yet I managed to fall into the unfortunate group that did, so I was getting ready. It was the weekend and raving plans were falling into place, according to my insufferable eavesdropping.

I sat on my 8 inch bed, staring at my phone and the calls I had missed the day before, debating whether or not to call anyone back.

My mom has called, and if I waited too long to reach out to her, she'd just upload a missing person's poster on Facebook.

I hit the green button and hear the phone ring. It goes off, and I dial one more time. She picks up almost immediately.

"Wow. Someone finally remembered me?"

I laughed. "Drama queen. I meant to reach out, but I was so burnt out yesterday that I slept off before I could. I was really busy yesterday."

"Busy with what?"

"I'm a student, remember? You sent me here to study, and stuff?"

"Haha, very funny," she said, sarcastically.

"Are you okay, though?" she inquired.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Then–

Please,don't ask me for money right now.

I frowned. "What?"

"What?" she asked back, her voice was perfectly normal, like she hadn't just—

Oh…

It clicked a second too late. Apparently, I wasn't as used to my powers as I thought I was. She hadn't actually said that, I had just read her thoughts.

My breath caught in my throat. So many thoughts running through my head.

And worse? I suddenly realized what this meant.

I'd always thought my mom was cool with me calling, even if it was just to check in. But now? Now I knew she always had a small fear in the back of her mind that I'd ask for something. Was I really always that broke? I doubt I was, but the possibility of me asking was enough to make her uncomfortable.

It didn't matter that I had money now. In her head, I was still a college student who could need something at any time.

I swallowed down the weird feeling that came with that realization.

What else did she think about me? I felt uncomfortable, trying my very best not to go deeper into her mind–not to know.

"Uh, are you okay?" she asked.

I cleared my throat, "yeah, I am, sorry, I thought I saw something crawling in the kitchen."I forced a smile into my voice, then added, "anyway, Mum, hope you're good?"

"I am,love. I just wanted to check up on you. Your siblings were asking of you yesterday, they said they'd call you."

Timothy and Sarah.

I had missed their calls too.

"I'll call 'em later ma. In the meantime , I've gotta go."

"Sure, darling. Love you."

I ended the call just in time to catch her final thought, Thank God.

The words rang in my head like an echo I couldn't turn off.

I sat there for a second, phone still in my hand, heart beating a little too fast. My mom loved me. I knew that. But now I also knew something else, she felt relief when I hung up.

And if my own mother had thoughts like that, what about everyone else?

What did my friends think when I wasn't around? What did people actually feel when they saw me?

What if I wasn't as liked as I thought?

I shook the thought away and got up to get ready for the last class I had to take this week, but the uneasiness followed me, curling around me like smoke. I didn't feel like me anymore. I felt more…aware. Scared. Could I live through this day?

———

The little bell jingled as I stepped into the café. The warm scent of cappuccino and buttery bread greeted me. My mouth watered and my stomach was bubbling.

I went there almost every morning. It was routine. I liked the quiet hum of morning gossip, the sound of the espresso machine and the easy smiles exchanged between regulars and baristas.

I caught the coffee guy's eyes just as I stepped toward the counter, ready to flash my usual bright smile, but then right before I reached him, he turned away.

I almost didn't think anything of it. Maybe he was grabbing something. Maybe he hadn't noticed me yet. But then, I heard it.

Oh no, not again… I heard him say, but his lips weren't moving.

I froze mid-step.

Not again? What was that supposed to mean? I asked myself.

I focused and locked into his thoughts, pushing past the noise of the café.

That fake smile. Why does she always do that? So damn annoying.

I felt the words physically. Like a slap.

I always smiled at him. Everyday I came in here, everyday I smiled. I was always nice. No matter how bad of a day I was having. And he hated it?

Something inside me twisted.

For a second, I felt embarrassed, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A low, simmering irritation.

I didn't smile this time. I didn't want to anymore, anyways. So I didn't. I walked straight up, kept a blank expression on my face, and said, "Hi. I'll have two pistachio muffins and a large mocha, please." Then buried my head into my phone, tapping on the keyboard as noisily as possible, waiting for my order.

The barista hesitated, looking confused. Normally, I'd be making small talk, asking him how his shift was going, maybe even throwing in a joke, which apparently was just icky. But today?

I just ignored him.

He cleared his throat. "Everything okay?"

I looked up and tilted my head slightly, reading him again.

Why does she seem off? Did I do something?

Good.

I let a small, meaningless smile tug at my lips. "I'm fine."

I could feel his discomfort, the tiny flicker of guilt crawling up his spine. He thought I was having a bad day, then he wasn't sure if I was. Then he thought I was mad at him, but he didn't remember doing anything outwardly to piss me off. Then he felt bad and the discomfort crawled back in.

I watched his thoughts spiral till he was done, then I paid, took my coffee, and left without another word. Not even my usual 'thank you'.

As I stepped outside, I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in the café window.

And then all of a sudden, I felt something different. Like I wasn't afraid anymore. Like this new found awareness was more of an advantage to me than it was a problem. With my mother, I felt like I was a burden, something she had to constantly worry about. With the barista, I realized that even if you weren't pressuring people, and trying to help them get the best of their day, they could still despise you for it. And I was pissed…disappointed as well. But anger wasn't all I felt.

I felt powerful.

And I thought...I might just be able to handle this.