#OriginalFiction – Memories
Katja stood in the Freehold cafe, seeing it not so much with her eyes as with her memory. She had spent almost all of her free time during undergrad, over fifteen years earlier, here at the Hold. She had always sat in a comfy chair near the piano. She would bring her guitar, and with Cindy at the piano, they would play whatever they felt like, and sometimes requests, too.
The piano was nowhere to be seen now. And tables outnumbered comfy chairs.
She remembered evenings on the couches by the fireplace, sipping jasmine tea, joking with Gabe about his latest adventures in fencing class. So often they featured Lynn, his best friend Dean’s girlfriend who was in the class with him. The night Gabe and Lynn told Dean they were in love with each other had required something a bit harder than tea, but no one at the Freehold had said anything.
The fireplace was dark this morning. And there were no couches.
Ganja had almost always been the barista working in the evenings. No one had known his real name, but he had known all of them and what they drank. Once she became a regular, Katja never had to place an order. She would walk in, head over to her favorite spot, and a few minutes later, Ganja would set a steaming mug of tea beside her.
There was a team of baristas behind the counter, calling to each other, seemingly hearing only the drinks and not noticing the faces of the customers in front of them. But it was busier in the morning than it ever had been in the evenings.
There had been the night of the truth or dare game. They were letting off steam after finals. The next day, they would all be headed home for winter break, so what better way to go than by sharing secrets and daring people to do crazy things. Karl had dared her to compose and recite a poem to the person she loved.
There were no groups larger than two in the Freehold this morning, all conversation being kept to soft whispers. But it was not really fair to try and compare a Friday night after finals to 9am in the middle of the semester.
The point of Karl’s dare to her had been to find out who she had a crush on. Katja had kept her feelings to herself in a group that often felt like they were living a soap opera. But she had been up to the challenge. She still remembered the first verse “Thinking/of you, of me/of what is/and what could be.” It had helped that Dean was not there that night, so there was no risk of her staring at him while she read the poem.
Katja shook her head, as if it would send the memories flying out from her mind, turn them back into reality. It had surprised her that the Freehold still existed, under that name, so many years later. She had walked in here specifically for the memories; there was no other reason. She could get her tea latte just about anywhere. As a “distinguished alumni” invited back to her alma mater as a keynote speaker at a student led conference, she could have sent someone to get her tea for her.
No, it was the power of memory that had brought her in, holding that tiny bit of hope that this place had been frozen in time, that she would walk in and see her youth. She had tried to tell herself that really it was because the conference, and her key note speech, had been well advertised, and all alumni were invited to attend. She had thought maybe some of her friends might want to see her as much as she would want to see them. And with the Freehold still there, well, where else would they go for their morning coffee.
But years had passed since any of them had spoken to one another. Her book, Adventures with Prince Charming, was dedicated to them, but really, it was dedicated to her memories of a time, a place, and the people that inhabited it. And there was nothing wrong with that, but she had to remember that she had moved on. It would be wrong of her to expect that her friends had not.
Katja took a deep breath, gathering in all the memories she had flung away, tucking them in, in the back of her mind, where they belonged. She stepped up to the counter to order her drink.
