Page 85 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“It is.”
“And work has… well, it’s been a long week.”
I suspect Cam, on occasion, has people talking his ear off about their problems, but I don’t want to dump on him like this.
“Problems with the jet?” he asks, and that delights me.
“Mm. How did you know?”
“You’ve got that look on your face. A look of—horror upon horrors—having to fly first class rather than in your own carbon-emitting machine.”
First class is a lot more money than, say, a single beer at the end of a workday. The rare times I fly, it’s always economy. I should have splurged on our trip to Vancouver, but it didn’t even occur to me.
Arethere people who are appalled at the idea of flying on a commercial airline, even in the most expensive seat they can buy? Probably, but it’s hard to imagine.
“Yes,” I say, “it was very tough, traveling to Bora-Bora with someone beside me.” I stick up my nose in a haughty manner. “But somehow, I managed.”
A couple walks into the bar, and I curse them under my breath. I want Cam to have customers, but their opening the door allows the wind to enter. I can’t help my full-body shiver.
“Are you okay?” he asks me.
“Just f-fine.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t change the weather—”
“I’m disappointed in you,” I say lightly. “Surely any good bartender has the ability to turn a c-cold spell into a warm summer day.”
“I can make you some tea. There’s a kettle in the back.”
“It’s really not necessary.” I don’t want to be too much of a hassle.
“Or if you’d like something with alcohol, I could make you a hot toddy or blueberry tea.”
“Blueberry tea?”
“It’s a cocktail with Grand Marnier, amaretto, and orange pekoe.”
“Why is it called blueberry tea?” I ask.
“Some people think it actually tastes a bit like blueberries.”
“Okay, I’ll try one of those.” Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the couple who entered a few minutes ago approaching the bar. “If it’s not a bother…”
“I’ll take their order first, then get started on your blueberry tea.”
I continue to sip my cold beer as Cam serves the other customers, and I look at my phone to check the temperature. It’s unusually cold for Toronto, so it’s reasonable for me to feel chilled to the bone.
What’s less reasonable is that I felt compelled to go to a brewery rather than heading home. I could be in my apartment, wrapped in a warm blanket, yet here I am.
And I don’t regret it.
Cam is wearing a long-sleeved Leaside Brewing shirt. He pulls two pints for the couple, then heads to the back. A few minutes later, he returns with a small teapot and pours a couple of things into a glass that I believe is called a brandy snifter. He adds a slice of orange and a spoon.
“Pour the tea whenever you’re ready,” he says.
“Thank you.” I pause. “Sorry to trouble you again, but if you still have them, I’ll get one of the meat pies. Whatever kind is available.”
Internally, I wince. This meal and two drinkswillbe on my credit card tomorrow, but by the time I get home, it’ll be late and I’ll be too tired to do anything but make instant noodles again.
