A Dream for Winter

Chapter 1

Your dark roast, sir, Carlie said, holding the steaming hot paper cup, anxiously searching for a clear spot on the cluttered little table to set it down. Sir, your coffee? she repeated, now desperate, her fingers burning. She should’ve known better. That’s what those liners were for, but feeling rushed, she figured she’d foolishly forgo it this one time. Oblivious to her discomfort, the preoccupied guy eventually looked up from his notes. Please, sir… your coffee, she repeated a little louder, attempting to put it down on the edge of the table.

Thank you, he said, swiftly moving his notebook away.

It’s very hot, she said with an apologetic smile, shaking her hand off. Please be careful. Turning on her heel, she scrambled back behind the counter of the busy coffee shop.

This was a particularly busy time, rush-hour, and people desperately wanted their coffee for their commute home. Carlie was in charge of the drip coffee orders while Spencer, her coworker, was on specialty beverages this round, thank goodness for small favors, she thought with a sigh.

After what seemed like forever, they both breathed a sigh of relief when the mad rush eventually slowed down to a trickle.

Was that crazy or what? Spencer asked in his overtly flamboyant manner.

You can say that again, Carlie said, wiping her brow. It’s only going to get crazier since Christmas is coming. She glanced wistfully at the falling snowflakes.

Four more weeks. Can you believe it? Spencer mused, frothing his latest cappuccino. I for one, am not ready to spend Christmas on my own again this year.

Aw, I’m sure you’ll find someone, Carlie said.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m wasting my time, hanging out at the same old gay bars, he said, shaking his head. What about you, any prospects?

No, nothing, she said with a shrug.

Oh, come on, Carlie. When are you gonna give up on that drab, lonely old spinster deal you’ve got going on and hook up with a rock star or something? He gestured toward the guy in the back of the shop.

Shut up, Carlie gasped, elbowing him. He can hear you.

No, he can’t, and even if he could, he’s obviously too wrapped up in his songwriting to care, Spencer said with a wistful sigh, glancing over at the mysterious stranger in the corner by the fireplace. He’s just so fucking gorgeous, he added, biting his bottom lip. Too bad he’s not gay.

How do you know he isn’t? she whispered.

My gay-dar is always right, darling. Trust me, if that guy was gay, I would know, Spencer affirmed. Besides, I’ve caught him looking at your ass a couple of times.

Spencer! she gasped.

What? It’s true! he chuckled. Oh, don’t worry. He’s got his headphones on. He can’t hear us.

You don’t know that for sure, she said in a hushed voice.

What’s his story, I wonder? Spencer pondered, passing the frothy beverage to his awaiting customer.

I don’t know, but he sure comes here often enough, she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. He always orders the same thing, a medium dark roast and he takes just a little milk but no sugar.

I mean, he just sits there for hours sometimes, scribbling into his notebook, Spencer said, furrowing his brow. You’d think a good looking guy like that would be off chasing girls or something. Yet he spends all his time in here, sneaking peeks at your ass.

Spencer! she gasped. You just stop that right now!

I’m just saying…

You’re sex-crazed, that’s all. You think everyone’s out to get laid, she admonished.

Oh, please! Isn’t that what it’s all about? Quit being such a prude, Carlie, he snickered. Well, this conversation is boring me. I’m going for my smoke break, he said, grabbing his jacket and scarf. Keep an eye out for lover boy back there, would you?

Give it up… she grumbled, smiling ruefully after him. Spencer, what a character. At least, he made the working hours go by faster with his entertaining commentary.

Then again, what was she in such a hurry for anyway? At least, at the coffee shop she was distracted. Being there was better than sitting alone at home, in front of the television, watching Christmas movies. Carlie loved everything about Christmas, except the loneliness factor.

It shouldn’t have to be this way!

She used to have a boyfriend. She missed being in a romantic relationship but apparently he had his own plans that obviously hadn’t included her. It was probably for the best that they’d broken up anyway. He wasn’t very romantic at all, actually. He was your typical man’s man. He preferred hanging out with his buddies at a sports bar rather than take her to the movies. She should be glad that she was free of him, yet why did it bother her that she was on her own? Because loneliness was overrated, that’s why.

So lost in thought was she, that she hadn’t noticed that someone had approached the counter. Excuse me, Miss?

Huh? Oh, yes? she said as Mr. Dark Roast himself, leaned against the counter.

Refill please, he said, his voice a mere whisper, placing his paper cup down.

Yes, of course, she said, flustered. I’m sorry about the paper cup. We were all out of mugs earlier, she rambled, nervously averting her eyes. I’ll bring it right out for you. She took a nice clean mug out of the dishwasher.

Glancing awkwardly around, she realized that they were, in fact, alone in the coffee shop for a rare moment.

Thank you, he said, returning to his seat.

He certainly was handsome, she mused, filling the mug. Thin perhaps, maybe even a little gaunt but handsome nonetheless.

Here you go, just the way you like it, she said, having taken the liberty of adding a little milk.

Thank you, he said, making space on the table for her to rest the mug.

Yeah so, you’re welcome, she said, sneaking a peek at his face. Oh, what a face, she observed, taking a breath. Flawless skin, dark green eyes, perfect cheekbones and a straight nose, so strikingly handsome, he was. She forcibly blinked her eyes free of him and nodded before turning on her heel.

She hadn’t always found him handsome. She recalled the first time he’d come in, a few weeks ago. No, he wasn’t at all the type of guy that she usually found attractive. He was too tall for one thing, very thin and he wore a lot of black and gray. Like tonight, he often wore intimidating combat boots, and way too many metal clasps to contemplate. He was different and quite eccentric. He even wore black nail polish and she had also noticed that he often wore eyeliner. She would have assumed that he was gay for sure, but Spencer insisted that he was not. He’s obviously goth or a rock star or something, Spencer would always say.

Perhaps she was just getting desperate, she thought, glancing discreetly over the counter at him. No, he was most definitely not her type. Yet she kind of liked his shoulder-length, platinum blonde hair. She liked the way the long bangs framed his face, and the way they tapered nicely on the ends. She sort of liked the way he sat hunched over his notebook with his slender fingers in his flaxen hair. She wasn’t really sure about the large ornate silver rings, though.

Uh huh? Spencer insinuated, catching her staring on his way in from his smoke break.

Oh, just stop it, she said, blushing.

Chapter 2

Now for the long trek home in the dark. Carlie shuddered as she stepped quickly along the busy city streets. At least, her apartment was within walking distance. A long walk but doable. Thank goodness, because it was just so darn cold. Cautiously looking over her shoulder, she tucked her hands in her mittens and dug them into her pockets.

Just a few more blocks, she told herself as the sidewalk turned noticeably quieter. She quickened her steps after having turned the corner, leaving behind the busy shops along the main street. Carlie didn’t particularly like walking home in the dark, but she had no alternative since she worked mostly evening shifts at the cafe.

Finally, her building, she thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Stepping in off the slippery sidewalk, she brushed herself off of the fallen snowflakes that had stubbornly embedded themselves in her dark chestnut curls.

And now the dreaded climb up to the third floor. She took a deep breath and buried her nose in her scarf away from the heavy smell of cleaning solvents, wafting throughout the stark fluorescent-lit staircase.

Even though, she had moved into this building nearly two months ago, Carlie hadn’t formally met any of her neighbors yet. She’d rather not meet them, actually. She preferred anonymity and usually avoided small talk if she could. Perhaps it was because she already spent so much of her time at the coffee shop making polite conversation with customers.

There was only so much she could take of talking about the weather or hearing about how busy people’s lives were, especially since she had nothing to contribute as far as the latter. Her life was anything but busy. Other than working, she didn’t have much going on at all.

Carlie didn’t even have a roommate. She was supposed to have a roommate to help her out with the rent for her small two-bedroom apartment, but the flaky art school student never turned up. Suddenly, Carlie was left with the option of either walking away from the lease or carrying the rent herself.

Hoping she would eventually find another roommate, Carlie agreed to the one year lease. She realized that her meager earnings from the coffee shop wouldn’t be sufficient to cover her expenses for long. The money her father had forwarded her was quickly running out too.

Hello? Is someone there? she called out, stopping mid-step. She could’ve sworn that she’d heard something, someone behind her. Never mind, she told herself, continuing up the stairs. Living alone in the city had only proven to feed her fear of strangers, especially strange men and their leering eyes.

For some reason, some men felt that they had the right to stare at her. Often, blatantly so. Even when she purposely ignored them. She didn’t quite understand why they did this. She didn’t dress to attract. In fact, sometimes she purposely dressed frumpy in an attempt to detract from whatever it was that they found so appealing about her.

It had started years ago. She had just turned fourteen when suddenly every other man thought that she was theirs for the gawking. It was a creepy feeling, really. She didn’t mind it so much when it was guys her own age but even old men would leer at her. It wasn’t right. She had confided in her mother about it once. Her mother’s reply was that this was a man’s world, after all, and that it was something that just happened. Young girls, especially pretty girls like herself, were at their most attractive at a very young age.

With her hand still shaking from the cold, Carlie dug around her purse and eventually found her keys. As she made her way along the corridor she stopped a few feet from her door and heard a strange sound. The sound of muffled voices from the apartment at the end of the hall, one down and across from hers.

Whoever it was, was having a rough time, she thought, hearing the swearing and stomping around. The voices or one voice, in particular, grew louder and closer. In an effort to avoid running into the source of the discord, Carlie made a mad dash for her door and quickly let herself in. She then hopped up on her step stool and curiously peeked out through the peephole and waited.

Two guys eventually made their way out of the adjacent apartment and into the hall. Jocks, she observed, watching them adjust their baseball caps backward on their heads as one led the other down the hallway. Obviously, still fired up about something, the one guy in the black jacket with white sleeves thought nothing of pounding his fist into the wall.

Another reason not to get too friendly with the neighbors, she thought with a nervous sigh. It wasn’t the first time she had heard the disturbances from across the hall and she considered herself fortunate not to have run into her ungainly neighbors so far. Tonight was the first time she actually put a face to them. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be back before she fell asleep. She didn’t want to have to put up with any of their troubles.

Careful to deadbolt the door, Carlie quickly ran through her apartment and turned on all the lights. It was just something she started to do after having watched one too many crime dramas. She always made sure to leave all the closet doors open before she left for work, too. That way, when she got home and turned on all the lights, she could see into them and make sure that no one was hiding there. Even the shower curtain was always left drawn open and she always checked under the bed, once, twice, maybe three times.

She would never admit it, being scared, but it was true. Carlie had always been the skittish type. Even as a child, she had begged her parents to let her sleep with the lights on. Yet here she was, miles away from her family home, all alone in the big city.

A couple of years ago, soon after her mother had passed away, her father, with his daughter’s best interest at heart, had encouraged her to move away from home.

Her oppressive extended family members were already dropping by the house unannounced with over-the-top expectations for her to settle down and get married. Her father, on the other hand, didn’t want his daughter to be saddled into an unhappy marriage like so many others from their tight-knit community.

He would rather she follow her heart. If that meant allowing her to find her own path, well then, that’s what he would do, by encouraging her to hand out job applications in the city and look for an apartment of her own.

It broke his heart to leave her behind and move back to his family farm in the Azores but he’d worked all his life in a factory in this cold country in order to provide a decent life for his wife and only child. Sensing the conflict within her father’s heart, Carlie had insisted that she’d be just fine on her own. She was an adult, after all.

So after serious soul searching, her father sold the house, gave her enough money to get her on her feet and then moved back home to retire in the company of his remaining family and childhood friends.

Now here she was, almost two months later, in her very own apartment, with a part-time job in a coffee shop, and a television for company. Oh well, things would get better one day, Carlie thought as she changed into her pajamas and washed her face. She had even started to make some really good friends since her move here.

Spencer, being one of them. He was cool even if he was goofy and always making her feel like an old maid. Spencer was, in fact, her first gay friend, who she’d been aware of anyway. When in reality, her high school friend Lori, who’d suggested that she apply at the coffee shop where she now worked, turned out to be a self-proclaimed lesbian. She smiled to herself wondering how her traditional aunts would feel about that. Better not to think about that at all, she giggled.

Then, of course, there were the guys at Dan’s Music Store, next door to the coffee shop. They would often come in for coffee and small talk on their breaks. Sometimes, on her way home, she would drop by and bring them coffee. Spencer liked to accompany her on some of these occasions since he was smitten with one particular salesclerk who worked there.

Too bad the guy wasn’t gay, though. All of the good ones are straight, Spencer would say.

If only she could get more hours at the coffee shop, she thought wearily, resting her head down on the couch. It’s not that she wanted to spend all her time at work. It’s just that she could really use the extra money. That said, things were good at her job. She and Spencer, the shop manager, had hit it off right from the beginning. So much so, that he’d fixed it so that they would, for the most part, be on the same shift. Good thing, too, since the alternative would be to work with Loretta who was short-tempered and always carried on like she was the only one who knew how to do anything right. Lori, unfortunately, got stuck working with surly Loretta, poor thing.

The only part of the deal that really bothered Carlie was always having to work the afternoon shift. That meant walking home alone in the dark afterward. That, she was not too fond of. Especially having to come home to an empty apartment.

Chapter 3

She had done it again, even after she’d promised herself that she would not watch another crime drama. Now there she was, trembling in her bed, praying for her guardian angel to watch over her. The constant sounds of distant sirens didn’t help. Neither did the voices from the late night club goers on the sidewalk. Of course, those sounds were nothing compared to the tumultuous racket coming from the apartment across the hall. The jocks had obviously returned and from the sounds of them, they were even more riled up than before.

What could they be thinking? It was almost two o’clock in the morning! She double checked the time with the flashlight she kept tucked under her pillow. Would no one call the police? Would she? Should she? She cringed at the incessant shouting coming through the walls. Moments later, she jumped hearing a door slam shut and hurried footsteps in the hall.

All went quiet after that, thank God, she thought as she closed her eyes and eventually fell asleep.

Carlie next opened her eyes to the sound of her alarm clock. She wished she could stay in bed all day. She yawned lazily. Unfortunately, it was garbage day so she willed herself up. She had to get everything wrapped up and down in the dumpster by seven or else have to wait another week.

Quickly changing into some sweats, Carlie ran around her apartment, gathering up all her garbage and recyclables. She then dragged the large bag over to her door and draped her coat over her shoulders. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and made her way into the hall.

Halfway down the steps, she realized that in her haste, she’d forgotten her mittens. Oh well, she’d make it, she told herself, tugging the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.

She smiled politely and averted her eyes as she passed a handful of tenants checking their mailboxes in the lobby. Some like her were on their way to the dumpster around the back of the building. Others were already on their way back inside.

Carlie immediately tensed up when she recognized the owner of the black and white sleeved jacket, approaching her with a definite swagger. It was him, the jock from next door, she realized as he passed her in the tight alley between the buildings. She felt his eyes on her as she skirted by him, purposely ignoring him and the suggestive wag of his bushy eyebrows. She then heard him mutter something undeniably rude under his breath.

Had she heard him right? Had he really said that? What a jerk! She sighed with relief when she realized that he’d kept walking. Had he really called her a filthy dyke? A dirty fag hag? Who was this guy? She frowned as she continued on her way around the back of the building. How dare he make those assumptions? He didn’t know her. Furthermore, who was he to judge her or anyone else for that matter? Even if she was a lesbian, why would he have felt the need to belittle her like that? He didn’t know anything about her.

Never mind him, she told herself. He was obviously an ignorant jackass with nothing better to do.

When she finally reached the dumpsters, Carlie found herself getting more and more upset. All she wanted to do now was drop her garbage off, and head on back inside. Her hands were freezing and the sun was only just now peeking over the edge of the neighboring building. Not that it was doing much for her. She could literally see her breath, it was so cold.

First, she lifted the lid of the recyclables bin and tossed her handful of pop cans in. Next, she lifted the lid of the trash bin. She was about to drop her garbage bag in there when she stopped short, having noticed something that caught her eye, something shiny and shimmering in the bright morning sunlight.

Hesitating, she placed her garbage bag down, lifted the lid up higher and caught her breath. Now what in the world happened to you? Who would have done this to you? she whispered, gingerly reaching in and lifting the discarded guitar out of the trash. It was definitely broken, she realized sadly. The neck, split from the body, was barely hanging on by a few threads of wood. The strings were all snapped and twisted in a mangled mess. It was covered in filth. She could barely make out its true color, but she could tell that it had been beautiful once.

Suddenly feeling awkward that someone might catch her digging through the trash, she quickly placed her garbage bag in the dumpster, closed the lid and discreetly carried the cruelly discarded instrument back into her apartment.

Now what am I going to do with you? she whispered, placing the grubby guitar down on the doormat while she blew on her fingers and rubbed her hands together. What was she thinking, bringing this thing home? She didn’t know anything about guitars. She traced her still frozen fingers over the rounded curves of the instrument.

She took her coat off and made her way over to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. A nice hot tea was what she needed most. While she waited for her tea, she thought of the guys over at Dan’s Music. Perhaps Jake or Mike would be willing to fix it for her.

What a disposable society we live in these days, she sighed, sipping her tea. She glanced at the once viable musical instrument lying in a twisted mess on her doormat and frowned.