Page 19 of Nutcracker with Benefits
Freddy laughs and rolls his eyes. “We went through a phase where at least every day someone was asking for civet-poop coffee.”
“Did you serve it?” I ask. I remember hearing about it and thinking it was like gold-leafing a burger—it probably didn’t taste that great, and it was mostly for looks and prestige.
Freddy shakes his head. “That coffee is produced in places like Indonesia that have problematic treatment of animals and a lack of a system in place to regulate it. I’m too picky with my social mores to sell it. Try the coffee now.”
Clara and I sip. It’s familiar, a dark roast with a hint of sweetness. A baseline.
It’s only a few sips and the mug is empty. Freddy has us cleanse our palettes with sparkling water, and we move through the rest of the cups.
Clara is much better at this than I am. She asks Freddy questions about the beans, how he got into serving such a variety of coffees and when he opened his café. She also blooms under his attention like a teacher’s pet—they bond over her ability to sense the different profiles.
It reminds me that this is Clara’s way of reconnecting with her mom. On her blog and in interviews, Clara talks about how she got into travel: one day, with Craig, they were going through some of her mom’s things and discovered a blank passport. When Clara saw who it belonged to, she asked why it had never been used.
Craig and Deb had married young and never got a honeymoon. First, there was no money, and then they were pregnant with Clara.
Deb’s first passport had come in the mail days prior to her abnormal pap smear. The trip was postponed, there was testing and attempts to treat the cancer.
But that trip never got taken.
It surprised no one when months after finding the passport, Clara announced she wanted to travel the world for a living.
Clara believes it’s one of her dad’s deepest regrets that he never took her mom on a vacation. So Clara makes up for it by carrying her mom with her all over the world.
As much as I hate that it takes me away from Clara, I’m so proud of her, and I know she needs to feel that connection to the mom she lost when she was so young.
I’m happy to listen while Freddy and Clara discuss the coffees, and then he asks which is her favorite.
“The Liberica,” she says quickly. “I like the fruitiness. How much do those beans cost compared to the others?”
Clara blanches when Freddy gives her the numbers. I nudge her. “Good thing you aren’t paying.”
Clara sticks out her tongue.
“I’ll bring you a to-go cup in a few minutes.” He picks up both platters and leaves.
“That was so interesting. Freddy is super knowledgeable,” she says, leaning back against the couch.
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
“You know that I toured a coffee farm in Brazil once, right?”
“I do.”
“I don’t even remember what type of bean it was, but I would guess I wrote it down somewhere. I actually have plans to go to another coffee farm in Indonesia while I’m there. Not a civet one, thank god.”
I cross an ankle over my knee, getting comfortable, and stretch an arm out over the back of the couch. “Is that where you are headed next?”
“Yup. I have New Year’s Eve in Sydney and then two months booked out between Australia, Indonesia, Singapore, and Malaysia.”
“Why there?”
“I have a few partners I’m working with in Australia, and then Indonesia and Malaysia are cheap and there’s a big expat community. It’s summer down there, so I’ll be comfortable leaving my winter gear behind.” She plucks at the coat next to her. “But there’s so much to do, and travel is cheap in Southeast Asia. I wouldn’t be doing Australia because it’s too expensive, but I worked out a deal with an airline there and picked up a few sponsorships.”
“So, you have big New Year’s Eve plans?”
“Argh.” Clara slumps against the couch. “When I’d booked my flight to Sydney, I reached out to a bunch of companies, and one of them emailed me back last week, saying they had a cancellation on a media ticket for their New Year’s Eve event. I emailed back right away, but I haven’t heard anything. I wonder if I should even go, honestly, or if I should save it for next year. All the parties are sold out.”
Hope flutters in my chest, followed immediately by guilt. I’d love more than anything to have Clara stay here for New Year’s Eve. But if she wants a New Year’s Eve party in Sydney, then she should be at a New Year’s Eve party in Sydney.
