The next morning, Sophia woke up with all the covers thrown off her. It was hot! She looked up at the wall next to her bed. Her room was decorated as sunnily as possible, with yellow, orange and red everywhere. She sniffed the air through the open window next to her bed. She brushed her hair back out of her face and nearly sprang out of bed. Summer was coming. It was only two weeks until she was on a plane. Finals were the only things between her and a sweet summer. It was going to be a good day; she could feel it.
On the train again, Sophia's mood stayed light. She watched people on the train, rather than studying, allowing herself these few minutes off. She kicked off her sandals and tucked her legs underneath her. This morning, she had put on a light, yellow dress that fell to her knees and covered her shoulders (work rule). She grinned to herself. She felt giddy and happy and altogether as though finals didn't start tomorrow.
She hopped off the train when it stopped and started to walk leisurely towards the café. She thought she was on time, and anyways, even if she wasn't, what could matter on such a fine day? She felt the sun on her neck, under her drawn up hair, and thought unexpectedly of Miguel. She wondered how he was and how tall Lucia had grown.
And then her thoughts turned suddenly to Tom. That man from the café. He and Miguel had nothing to do with each other, of course. Miguel was a sweet, serious man who looked after his sister and was passionate about La Casa Soleada. Tom was an arrogant, flirtatious man who worked for rich people and was so full of himself he couldn't take a hint. And she wasn't interested in either of them, not that way. But in the warm sunlight and light breeze, she was inclined to be lenient in her judgments. Eh, Tom probably wasn't that bad, for the right person. To each her own.
The morning passed quickly as Sophia chatted with customers. The usual group of regulars came by, and several complimented her on her dress. Everyone was in a good mood, due to the weather. Halfway through her shift, Nina came up behind her. "You know, if that man comes by while you're wearing this, you won't be able to get away this time."
Sophia laughed lightly. "Oh, I'm ready for anything today."
Nina looked disbelievingly at her. "I'm watching you, girl. Sweet, quiet Sophia acting dangerously—not a good sign."
At his now usual time, Tom Anderson walked in the door. Sophia was at the register, as usual, and watched him approach. She was ready to come back with something sarcastic when he asked her for a date. "Yes?" she asked.
"A small chai latte." He smiled mischievously at her. Wow, his eyes got all crinkly when he did that. She suddenly felt uncomfortable.
"Sure. $2.35. Coming right up." He didn't try to touch her hand when he gave her the money. What was that about? Had he given up? His smile told her otherwise. She watched his retreating back suspiciously.
When she brought his coffee, she smiled at him, ready to believe he'd given up and was now going to be a good regular customer. "Good day?" she asked.
"Sure. Not too busy. And yours?"
"Great. Couldn't be otherwise, with this beautiful weather. I can't wait for the summer."
"This has been a long winter, hasn't it?"
"The longest."
"Nice dress." He looked her up and down appreciatively.
"Thanks. It's in honor of this wonderful day."
"Why not sit? You don't have any customers at the moment."
She thought about it and then thought, what the hell. She sat.
"There we go. So, what classes are you taking? At Columbia."
"Well, two bio classes, one great and one horrible. A statistics class, and then my favorite, a class on Pablo Neruda."
"Really?" He leaned forward and she didn't lean back. "I've got his complete anthology at home. In English, of course. Do you like him?"
"Oh, he's wonderful. I think his love poems are the only ones I can take seriously." She felt excited to have found a poetry reader.
"How so?" He looked interested too.
"Well, you know, love is the most overdone subject in poetry. Sometimes love poems try to be too strong and just come out limp. But his poems—they suck you in."
"You know what? I know what you mean. There's something magnetic about the way he writes. Even in translation. Do you speak Spanish? Are you reading the original?"
She wondered whether or not to end the conversation. But he seemed to only have a friendly interest in her, and she was glad of the opportunity to talk to someone interesting. "Yes and yes. I was born in Venezuela, and I didn't move here until I was 14."
"Really? You have no accent."
"My mother's first language was English. She was an interpreter at the American Embassy in Caracas."
"Wow, pretty international. So how'd you get interested in medicine?"
"Well, every summer I go back to Venezuela and work at a children's clinic. I'm just an assistant, but I guess that's what sparked my interest. What about you?"
He leaned back and she could see his expression cloud a bit. "Oh, I got interested in college, and I switched from math to bio. Not a very interesting story." He looked at her, and she felt startled again at how green his eyes were.
"Sophia!" Nina called from the counter. "Customer!"
"Oh, wow, I gotta go. Sitting down on the job and all that." She hastily stood up and she could feel him looking at her legs.