Page 2 of Trust Fall
The two new staff members selected the coffee art class only, as being weekend staff they didn’t have the time to do the full certification course. As per the new onboarding procedure, this would be incorporated into their standard training for their new roles.
Ivy enjoyed this part of the job, and if she was honest with herself, she enjoyed every part of her job. She rarely thought back to her time at college, but when the new college year began, and she had new weekend staff inductions to arrange, her mind wandered to her past. Mostly, she thought about how happy she was at work in comparison to the sheer dread she felt at the thought of attending any of her classes. She thought about how freeing it has been when she switched from studies to working. She didn’t allow herself to think about what else happened at that time.
She looked at the clock and noticed it was 5:25 p.m. She knew that in ten minutes, her day was about to get much brighter. She finished what she was doing and made her way to the front shop, where there were still a few customers sitting on the window stools and scattered at tables. Their chatter was soft and their warm laughter tinkled from the table in the far corner. Ivy smiled at a group of three women who’d been sitting at the same table every Thursday afternoon for the past four years.
“Afternoon ladies,” Ivy waved as Margo, Liz, and Ella each waved back at her.
“She’s not due for another,” Oliver checked the coffee cup clock on the wall, “three minutes, Boss,” Oliver said with a smirk, making Ivy startle and blush.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy replied as she grabbed the cloth and sanitizer spray from behind the counter and made her way over to the empty tables, not convincing herself, never mind anyone else.
“Uh-huh,” Oliver rolled his eyes. “So, tell me, are you ever going to speak to her? At the very least, wave? I mean, this has gone on for years!”
“I will, someday, just not today.” Ivy got quieter with each word as she made her way over to the window, making sure to stay far enough back so as not to be seen from outside. She looked to her left and down the street towards the waterfront.
“Oh hun,” Ella said kindly from the corner, “there’s a difference between keeping your heart safe, and keeping it hidden.” She got up and walked over to Ivy who turned to face her. “You’re never going to heal if you never give yourself the chance to.”
Ivy turned back to the window just in time to seeherwalk past. Ivy was mesmerized by the woman who she’d watched pass by the shop at precisely this time, every weekday for three years. Ivy could get lost in those green eyes, not to mention she’d give anything to run her fingers through that fiery red, perfect French braid. She so wanted to see what the woman looked like with her hair hanging loose. For once.
By the time the woman had left Ivy’s sight, she turned back towards Ella and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, “I’m fine. I promise. You worry too much,” Ivy lifted her head towards Margo and Liz. “You all do.”
She turned towards Oliver. “If you don’t mind, can you start cleaning down the machine, now that you’ve given your opinion on my non-existent love life?”
“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely, of course, Boss,” Oliver turned and began the long process of cleaning down the coffee machine for the night.
With her arms full of groceries, Ivy opened the door to her apartment and kicked it closed behind her. Another reason she hated Thursdays. She made her way through to her small galley-style kitchen and sat the bags on the counter before returning to lock her front door and take off her messenger bag and jacket.
After putting away the food for the week, she decided to grab a shower before making herself a late dinner. The last reason she hated Thursdays: meal prep.
Ivy didn’t have the time or patience (mostly the patience) to cook meals every day. After years of failing at eating all her meals, her best friend Lucas’s wife, Gabriella, got her into the habit of meal prepping once a week. While it didn’t cover the entire week, it was a far cry from living off granola bars, as she’d been doing before meeting Gabby. Not to mention the fiery temperament that the Mexican woman could flick on-and-off scared Ivy more than she’d ever admit aloud.
After what felt like five hours later, Ivy was eventually done with the week’s meals. Finally, she could now relax in front of the TV to watch her favorite medical drama. Not to mention live vicariously through her favorite sapphic couple in the show.
Watching them over the years had been a balm to her soul. While she was very much aware that it wasn’t reality that she was watching, the thought that it was possible to have as rounded a relationship with a woman, as with a man, gave her hope that maybe one day she could have that herself. Back when she was accepting her own queerness without much external support, these characters felt like the only people she could relate to.
She’d never allowed herself to be in a proper relationship before, only ever one-night stands, and never a sleepover. Never long enough to get attached. Let feelings grow. Get hurt.
The downside was she’d never had the companionship, the shared chores, the cute, mushy things like making the other breakfast in bed on a shared day off, or a shared birthday or holiday together.
Ivy needed to face facts: Ella was right—she'd never get to have those things if she didn’t let someone in long enough for them to happen.
Chapter 3
Cleo
Cleo made her way up the path to her parents’ house. It still felt strange saying that instead of home, but Cleo had never lived in this house. Her parents downsized a few years ago when her younger sister, Jade, moved out for college.
Whether she had lived here or not, if Cleo shut her eyes for a moment, the house still smelled like home. Her mom, Fiona’s,love of cooking and baking ensured that within mere weeks of moving in, it felt a little like home used to.
She stepped into the house and could hear her dad, Rob, shouting at the TV. She didn’t need to see the screen to know he was watching the replay of last night’s hockey match. He was a taxi driver and had been working until the early hours of this morning. She removed her coat and hung it on the hook on the wall behind the front door. She then sat her portfolio in the sitting room against the wall to keep it out of harm's way.
“C’mon Ref! Are you blind??” Her dad was still shouting at the TV when she walked over and kissed the top of his head.
“Hey Dad, who’s playing?” Cleo sat on the armrest of his chair.
“Urgh, Devils and Rangers, when the ref isn’t being a complete fun sponge and pausing at every bump,”. He looked away from the screen and gave his daughter a warm smile. “How was your day, kiddo?” No matter how old Cleo got, her dad insisted on using her childhood pet name.
“It was good, I’m glad it’s the weekend though. Where’s Mom and Sophie?” she smirked. Rob laughed and nodded his head in the direction of their kitchen.
