More than Words

by Harper Bliss

  “She’s all right,” I mumble.

  “What’s with the sourpuss attitude?” Hilda asks. “Ever since I got here, you’ve been in a foul mood. Aren’t you happy for Rocco?”

  “Of course I am, Hilda. I know he’s wanted this for such a long time. I even considered investing in his dream, but then, well, you know.”

  “You wish Sam were here to see this.” Her voice is solemn.

  I nod.

  “I wish she were here too. She’d fit right in. She would have absolutely loved this.”

  I catch a glimpse of Katherine and think about what Jill asked me to consider. In our last session, I managed to avoid the subject of Katherine altogether, because I suffered one of those all too familiar falling-apart days—even though it had been months since the last one.

  I picture Samantha next to me. Sometimes, when I’m alone in the house, it’s as though I can still smell her. Out of nowhere, I catch a whiff of her favorite perfume, and it always knocks me for six.

  “If you’re taking an Uber anyway,” Hilda says, “how about another glass of that champers. Not too bad for a coffee shop, I would say.” She shoots me a big grin and goes in search of more. I don’t even have the chance to decline. That’s my sister’s way with me. I’ve had more than fifty years to get used to it. It would feel off if she were to ask me gently if I wanted another glass of sparkling wine. Like just after Sam died, and she suddenly started speaking to me in a soft, deferential voice I didn’t recognize. For a moment, I thought I had lost my sister as well as my partner.

  I glance around the place. Rocco has done a great job with the interior. I get a feeling this place will be successful and I guess, for that, he also has Katherine to thank. There go my thoughts again, drifting to Katherine. Where is she now?

  She seems to be fond of the color red—today she’s wearing a bright red blouse. It makes her stand out. I don’t even need to search for her in the crowd. She’s talking to the woman who was here on the first day of my job. What was her name? Liz, I think. They’re deep in conversation so I take the opportunity to watch them discreetly. Katherine shakes her head, then she tilts it and brings her fingers to her cheek, tapping just below her cheekbone in exactly the same way Sam used to do. Damn it. Maybe Jill was right.

  I look away from Katherine and her friend and try to find Hilda. She has two glasses in her hands, but she has also managed to engage Caitlin James in conversation. I guess I’ll have to be patient. This is one of the highlights of her day—maybe her life—so I won’t interrupt her just because I’m thirsty. Besides, I’m old enough to procure my own drink.

  I head to the counter and, without asking, a young woman offers me a glass. I eagerly accept it.

  Before I have the chance to turn around, someone bumps rather clumsily against my hip.

  “Alyssa, can I have another bottle please, darling?” I recognize Katherine’s voice.

  Alyssa nods and goes to fetch the bottle.

  I glance to my side and it seems that Katherine only now notices how rudely she has bumped into me.

  “Don’t mind me.” I turn the snark all the way up in my voice.

  “Oh, sorry, Hera. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She looks me straight in the eye. There’s not a hint of apology in her glance nor in her voice. In fact, her eyes are a little glazed over.

  “Of course not,” I reply.

  “I can tell you’re rather tough.” She glances at my hips, as though that’s where the evidence of my toughness can be found. She looks back up and locks her gaze on my drink. “I’m glad you’re letting your hair down a bit, Hera. We all need to have some fun.” She smiles now—a smile I don’t know what to do with.

  Luckily, Alyssa returns and hands an open bottle of sparkling wine to Katherine. “You don’t need a top-up?” she asks.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Talk to you later,” Katherine says and sashays away—an expression I’ve learned from Rocco.

  I stand by the counter a while longer, waiting for Hilda to return and tell me all about her conversation with Caitlin James. I regret that I was so cold with Katherine when I first arrived. Tonight, on this happy occasion, for the first time, I can see her for who she really is—just a woman living her life. And experiencing great pleasure from doing so. Even though she has disappeared into the crowd in front of me, I swear I can hear her laugh bubbling up over the noise.

  I could do with some of that pleasure, I conclude. It’s been too long.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kat

  It’s the first operating weekday of our Pink Bean and Kristin has just left. Rocco’s wiping the spout of the milk frother for the umpteenth time today. It seems to be his nervous tic. According to Kristin, we’ve sold a decent number of coffees for a first morning. Now that she’s left, and it’s just me and Rocco in the shop, it feels like our very first minutes of complete independence.

  “It’s strange,” I say to Rocco. “All this time we’ve dreamed of this, and now here we are, and I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

  “Why do you think I’ve been keeping that machine squeaky clean?” he says.

  “It’s just nerves, isn’t it?”

  “How about a nice cappuccino to help you with those?” Rocco grins at me.

  “I wish we were still serving bubbly,” I joke.

  “That was quite a party.”

  Someone walks by the window and we both stiffen. We’re not used to this yet. I consider both Rocco and myself very good with people, but it doesn’t feel natural yet to have people walk into our coffee shop. We’re still adjusting to the new reality of our lives. This morning, apart from being exhilarated, I was so nervous, I thought I might say yes if Alana called me again. But she has stopped calling now.

  A man walks in and Rocco and I paint on big smiles.

  “Hi there,” Rocco says. Somehow, even on this very first morning, it has become the natural order of things for him to greet the male customers.

  I try to make myself look useful by grabbing a cloth and wiping the tables I’ve already wiped a dozen times. Everything’s in order. Everything’s set up so that we can serve customers easily and swiftly. Now all we need are the customers.

  Rocco and the man continue their chat. I sit at a table in the corner and, out of habit, pull my phone out of my pocket. I notice I’ve received a message. It’s from Caitlin asking me not to forget about her proposal.

  I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I’ve had quite some time to think about it, but no matter how I twist and turn her offer of being a guest on The Caitlin James Show, I can’t conclude that it’s my task to convince the nation that sex work has its virtues.

  Another person walks by the window, drawing my attention. A familiar figure. Tall and broad-shouldered. Short hair. Faded black T-shirt. Hera. I can hardly believe it. Maybe she has forgotten her flask again.

  She walks in and Rocco’s face lights up. I’d best go say hi. I never thought she’d actually show up.

  It takes me back to the very first time she came here, when all the work still had to be done—and I was oblivious to the fact she had already made up her mind about me being a lesser person than her.

  “Hi.” I send Hera a smile nonetheless. “Long black?”

  “Katherine,” Hera says, as though stating a fact instead of my name. A fact she has no choice but to accept. Then, out of nowhere, she returns my smile. “I would love a cup of coffee.”

  “You’re in luck,” Rocco says. “We happen to be in the coffee business.”

  “I’ll get it,” I say.

  “No, no, no,” Rocco tuts. “Auntie Hera’s first official coffee in the Bondi Pink Bean will be prepared by her favorite person in Sydney, perhaps even on this planet.” He flashes a smile and turns around to make it, leaving me to chit-chat with Hera. At least she has given me a smile to work with.

  “How’s the—” I start, at the same time as she starts to say something.

  “You first,” Hera says,
accompanying her words by opening her palm.

  “Just wondering how the new job’s going.”

  “Fine. It’ll take a few weeks, so you might see more of me.”

  Is that another smile? Has Rocco’s aunt had a personality transplant? She has been friendlier to me in the last few minutes than all the times I ran into her while she was working here.

  “Here you go.” Rocco plants a big mug on the counter. “That should keep you going for a while.”

  The guy who came in earlier heads back to the counter.

  “That one’s mine as well,” Rocco whispers, then paints on his widest grin.

  “He’s having the time of his life.” Hera’s gaze softens.

  “It’s all still so new and exciting.” I glance over at Rocco as he chats with the customer.

  “How are you adjusting?” Hera asks, surprising me again.

  I gaze at her from under my lashes. She did apologize after that little spat we had at the restaurant, but this is something else altogether. Instead of judging me, she’s treating me like an acquaintance she’s actually fond of.

  “Very well, although I’m still not used to getting up so early.”

  “Nothing as gorgeous as the crack of dawn.” Hera looks at me over the rim of her mug, making eye-contact.

  Her eyes are light brown and her glasses have slipped off the bridge of her nose again. It can’t be comfortable to wear them while tearing down walls.

  “I still need to be convinced of that.” I return her gaze. “Once we’re truly up and running, I may let Rocco do the morning shift.”

  Hera looks behind her for an instant. Rocco’s still chattering away.

  “I wanted to say sorry again for, well, you know.” She puts her mug down and looks me straight in the eye again. “For being such a bigot. You were absolutely right. I have no business judging you.” Her voice is crisp, her words crystal clear.

  I tilt my head. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  A blush blooms on Hera’s cheeks. She shuffles a bit and reaches for her coffee mug again. Her mouth briefly opens but she doesn’t say anything.

  “Apology accepted,” I say. As much as I’d love to make her squirm some more, it’s important for me to acknowledge her message. Without thinking, I place my hand on her arm. It’s what I do. I trade in touch—a habit that’s hard to break. Her biceps are hard against my palm.

  Hera drains her cup. “I have to get back to the job.” She seems to suddenly have lost the ability to meet my gaze. “Tell Rocco I’m expecting him for dinner tonight no later than seven.”

  “Sure.” I watch Hera swagger off. There’s nothing feminine about her gait. Her long-legged strides are all about function, about getting from one place to the next without fancy.

  I’m happy she apologized, but I can’t shake the impression there are other things left unsaid between us. I hope she stops by again soon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hera

  “Caitlin James asked Kat to be on her show,” Rocco says. “In fact, she’s as good as stalking her.”

  “She’d make a good guest,” Hilda says, “with the life she’s lived.”

  They both look at me as though it’s vital I contribute to this conversation.

  “Are you sure you want your business partner to go on national TV and announce that she was an escort for a decade? It can’t possibly be good for business,” I say.

  Rocco leans back as though he hadn’t yet considered this. He glares at me.

  Maybe I’ve read him wrong.

  “Why did you even apologize to Kat if this is still how you feel about her?” Rocco asks, waving his fork around.

  “Apologized for what?” Hilda asks.

  “Auntie Hera could not deal. She could not deal at all.” Rocco says it with all the theatrics of an opera singer.

  “It is a little unusual that she was a sex worker,” Hilda says. She winks at Rocco. “And not everyone’s as open-minded as your mother.”

  “Which is exactly why Kat should do the interview,” Rocco says. “How will public opinion ever change if no one ever talks about it?” He shrugs. “Anyway, she doesn’t want to do it… yet.”

  “Why not?” I inquire.

  Rocco scrunches up his lips. “She doesn’t feel it’s her job to be the spokesperson for a profession she’s left.” He taps a finger against the stubble on his chin. “And, actually, she may also be protecting the Pink Bean. Although, as far as I know, Kristin didn’t seem to have a problem with it at all.”

  “If she doesn’t want to do it, she doesn’t want to do it.” I put down my fork. “Not everyone’s after their fifteen minutes of fame.” I quite admire Katherine for wanting to keep a low profile—or is that my bigotry speaking again? It’s hard to tell the difference, even for me.

  “You tell Caitlin James,” Hilda says, “that if she’s after an interview with the average woman in the street, she can call me.”

  “Mother, how dare you,” Rocco exclaims. “You are by no means average with me as your son.”

  We all burst out laughing and the topic of Katherine being a guest on Caitlin James’ show is forgotten, although, throughout the rest of the evening my mind keeps drifting to Katherine. To how she looked at me so quizzically this morning after I apologized. As though she was onto something I have no clue of yet myself.

  The next day I find myself at the Pink Bean again, even though I’ve not forgotten my flask. When I walk in, there are two people ahead of me and I have time to study Katherine as she interacts with the customers. Her long chestnut hair is tied up in a ponytail and my gaze is drawn to her fingers. Her customary nail polish is a different shade of red than at the opening party, but red nonetheless. I guess I already know what her favorite color is.

  Rocco comes bounding through the back door. He waves at me as soon as he sees me and motions for me to bypass the queue. I shake my head.

  “Hello.” Katherine flashes me a big smile when it’s my turn. “Always lovely to see returning customers. Same as usual?”

  I nod. My conviction, that it’s ridiculous to pay twice as much for a cup of coffee as what it would cost me to brew an entire flask at home, has been dwarfed by my desire to help my nephew. Or so I like to tell myself.

  “Coming right up.” As Katherine turns around to prepare my coffee, Rocco hands me a mug already.

  “I know how she likes it. Why else would Auntie Hera be back already?” He sends me a big fat wink.

  I put the mug down—the coffee is, indeed, delicious—and deposit five dollars on the counter. None of that payWave contactless credit card use for me.

  “A promise is a promise,” Katherine says, and slides the coins back in my direction.

  “I know you’re good on your promise, but it makes me feel uncomfortable not to pay.” I pick up the coins and hand them back to her.

  “You built this place, Hera.” Katherine doesn’t take the money.

  “And you paid me for my efforts. That’s how the world works.” I look her in the eye. There’s a sparkle in her gaze that makes me think she’s enjoying this tiny standoff between us.

  “Take the money already, Kat,” Rocco whispers. “It’s not as if Auntie Hera spends her fortune on clothes or anything fancy like that.”

  I chuckle and refocus my gaze on Katherine. “He’s absolutely right.”

  “Fine.” Katherine sighs. “But you get a free refill.” She grins at me. Although I’m relieved she’s giving in, I’d like to stand face-to-face with her and haggle over something insignificant a little longer.

  “If you insist,” I say.

  “I do.” Her red-painted lips widen into a warm smile.

  “Thanks.” I deposit the money in her palm, take my coffee, and find a spot to sit in the corner.

  While I enjoy my beverage, my glance is pulled back to the counter again and again, and I ask myself when I started being unable to keep my eyes off Katherine.

  A few minutes later, she stops by my tabl
e. “Ready for that refill?” She has her hands on her hips.

  “I really ought to get back to work.”

  She plants her hand on the back of the chair opposite me. “Do you mind if I sit for a moment?”

  “Of course not.”

  She glances directly at me and, before saying anything, sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. The sight of it moves something inside me, in a spot where nothing much has moved in years.

  “Would you consider it terribly untoward if I asked you to dinner? At my place.” She cocks her head. “You know, so you can have a look at my kitchen. Tell me what you think.”

  I burst into a chuckle while a sensation I can’t identify courses through me. “I don’t think it would be untoward at all. It would be work.”

  “Are you free this weekend? Say, Sunday?”

  I nod. I’m usually free.

  “Any food allergies I should take into consideration?”

  “Nope. I’m old school like that.”

  This elicits another smile from Katherine. “I figured you would be.” She rises. “It’s a date then. I’ll text you the time and address.”

  I watch her walk off, all sass and delicious curves. Only then does it hit me what she just said. It’s a date.

  For me, it will just be work.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kat

  “You could do it,” I say to Liz. “If you think it’s so important. You look like a model and a movie star rolled into one.”

  “I wasn’t asked,” Liz says matter-of-factly.

  “I wonder why that is.” I scan Liz’s face. “Jessica’s no longer Caitlin’s boss, so it can’t be that.”

  “Jess’s father still is, though, so let’s not pretend it doesn’t have anything to do with that.” Liz draws up her eyebrows.

  “So I’m the next best thing.”

  Liz shakes her head. “I think Caitlin has a bit of a soft spot for you.”

  An involuntary smile quirks up my lips. “I bet she does.” I remember that night we shared fondly. “So tell me this. Will Caitlin James allow me to divulge the details of her own escapades with a call girl on her show?”