Forever, For Always - Sabrina Quinn Page 0,2

only my second day on the job, I think I may already have all of the drinks memorized at the tiny Cuban coffee shop off of Calle Ocho. Not only was I lucky enough to find this place in just my first day out job hunting, but the owner agreed to pay in cash. Perfect! I lucked out coming in the day his only full time barista had blindsided him by up and quitting. He had no hesitations at all about paying in cash if I could start the very next day. After living here for a little over two weeks already and starting to run low on funds, the timing could not have been better.

I hear the bell above the door chime as I’m putting the last batch of hard to pronounce pastries that the owner’s mother bakes each night into the display case. I slide the plastic door closed and stand up to see my first customer of the day. We open at 5:00 a.m., but I unlocked the door a few minutes early as I knew I would be busy setting up for the day.

A tall man with short, dark blonde, hair walks in. His strong, square jaw line matched with his Miami-Dade police uniform he is wearing gives off a confident look to him. “You’re not Marisol,” he declares. Marisol comes out with an accent although he doesn’t appear to be Hispanic decent, even with the sun kissed skin tone.

Add his unpleasant attitude to that look.

“That I am not,” I say with slight annoyance. I was told this more times than I could count yesterday. Apparently, Marisol was a favorite barista around here. “What can I get you, sir?”

He chuckles as he adjusts his belt. “You would think someone working at a coffee shop would be a little more of an early bird. Seems like something that should be considered when applying for this type of position.”

I place my right hand on my hip and glare at him as I listen to his banter. “I’ll suggest that to Carlos the next time he decides to interview someone.”

The man’s earlier chuckle has now turned to an outright laugh. “You are quite witty this early, I’ll give you that.” He slaps down a five dollar bill as he says, “Extra-large Café con Leche with an extra shot of espresso, to go please.”

I roll my eyes as I take the bill and put it in the drawer. “Two dollars and fifty cents is your change,” I say to him as I hand it over. He smiles and puts it all into the tip jar without another word.

I make his coffee in silence as he browses the front page of the newspaper on the counter. I hand him his cup and he arrogantly nods at me as he turns around and walks out the door.

A head nod? Really? He was rude. I hope this isn’t how most of the people in Miami are.

The rest of my shift flies by as quickly as it came. For being such a hole in the wall coffee joint, this place sure stays busy. Busy is good, busy is what I need. Busy is what makes me push forward. Busyness is what keeps my mind from memories. Memories like the one that kept playing in my head today after hearing Bruno Mars play through the stereo speakers of the cafe.

***

“You are so beautiful,” Dominic whispers as he takes my hand. “I’m the absolute luckiest guy on earth.” The sunlight cascading through the stained glass above us reveals his usual sultry dark eyes are glassy. Even with the emerging tears, he has the biggest grin I have ever seen plastered across his face. In the ten years we have known each other, I’ve never seen him look so happy.

"Dominic and Adaline, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?” a priest wearing his white robe and vestment, standing directly in front of us asks.

“Yes,” we both say in unison.

We recite the rest of the vows, promising one another for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. No one knows how true these words really are for us.

“You may exchange a kiss,” the priest tells us at the end.

Dominic cups my face with both hands and kisses me fiercely. This kiss is the beginning of a new chapter, a new us. No one can take this moment away. He