03:00 PM - 1. 3 PM

3 PM

The world's first recorded long distance road trip by automobile took place in Germany in August 1888 when Bertha Benz, the wife of Karl Benz, the inventor of the first patented motor car (the Benz Patent-Motorwagen), travelled from Mannheim to Pforzheim (a distance of 106 km (66mi)) in the third experimental Benz motor car (which had a maximum speed of 10 miles per hour (16 km/h)) and back, with her two teenage sons Richard and Eugen, but without the consent and knowledge of her husband.

(source: Wikipedia)

The office in the back of the coffee shop didn’t have the space to take more than three medium-measured strides, if at all, otherwise you ran into one of the overflowing cabinets.

Jonah sat behind Romeo’s desk, feet propped up on a pulled out drawer, silently tracking his friend’s pacing.

Step. Step. Dodge the suitcase. Step. Turn.

“Maybe I should go up front and make you a valerian tea.” Not so ‘silently tracking’ anymore, but Romeo was starting to make Jonah dizzy.

Step. Step. Dodge the suitcase. Step. Turn. “What?”

“Valerian tea?” To get his point across some more, Jonah held up a thick, white ceramic cup. “Calms you down every time.” He let his feet plop down on the floor with a loud thud, then leaned forward so suddenly, the back of the desk chair squeaked in protest. “You look like you’re about to set off for an unknown galaxy. It’s a simple weekend trip, bud.”

“That obvious, huh?” Romeo ran both hands through his curls. He had skipped his usual bandana and hair tie get up that morning. It wasn’t a workday after all, at least not for him. He was going on a weekend trip.

“No, it’s my mad people skills.” Jonah pushed the drawer shut and searched the desk until he found a dented metal tea box. He opened the lid and sniffed appreciatively. Then he put it back down and squinted at his friend. “It’s only three days, Rome.” He snorted. “Not even I can ruin your precious mad-coffee-wiz reputation in three days.” Jumping to his feet, he walked around the desk, effectively standing in the way of more pacing. “I worked here before when I was in high school, and the shop still belonged to your auntie. Remember?”

“I know. It’s not—”

“I’ve come in every morning for the last few days to learn how to use all your snazzy new gadgets.”

“Yes, but—”

“And for your fickle customers to get used to my wicked ways.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Mouth.”

“What?”

“Your wicked mouth. You called eighty-two year old Mrs. Ridalski ‘darlin’. I was so sure she’d clop you over the head with her tote bag.”

“But she didn’t.” Jonah beamed at his friend then sing-songed, “Because she liked it.”

“Or she had her hearing aid switched off. Again.”

“Nope.” Jonah stuck his tongue out. “Mad people skills.”

Romeo didn’t smile back. Instead he rubbed his hands over his forearms, then, when he noticed what he was doing, stuffed them in the pockets of his jeans. Seeing this, Jonah knew there had to be more bothering his friend than leaving his business in Jonah’s hands for the weekend. Time to test the water. “Really, Rome. Oliver and I are gonna have everything under control. Promise.”

Romeo let out a harrumph, and Jonah frowned. “Oliver is a good barista. I don’t know why you’re always on his case.”

“Because he’s a smartass? And he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut?”

“Well, the high school girls make goggley eyes at him and the cougars purr. These are fine assets for a barista if you ask me, especially if his coffee is good too. And it is.”

“I know. It’s not—”

Finally Jonah threw his hands in the air. “I can’t even screw up the cake order, because you already preordered everything. And you’ll have your phone on—”

“It’s not about the shop!” Romeo yelled. “I know I can trust you. I probably could have left it in Oliver’s hands, if I had to. Maybe asked another temp to work alongside him on Sunday, but still.” He then looked at the wall clock over the door, for the umpteenth time. Two forty-nine p.m.. Eleven minutes to go. He took in a deep breath. “Look, can I talk to you about…something else beside the shop?”

Jonah’s eyebrows rose as he leaned back against the desk, waiting. When nothing came for several moments, he finally waved his hand for Romeo to go on. “Spill.”

Romeo swallowed. “My problem is that I’m about to get into a car with Julian for six hours! At least.”

Jonah crossed his arms over his chest. “Aha. And this is bad because?”

“This is bad because we’ve never done this before.”

“What? Sitting in a car?”

“Didn’t you listen to me? Sitting in a car FOR SIX HOURS!”

Jonah tsked. “Are you afraid of getting bored?” Then he suddenly grinned. “If so, just give him a blowjob. Although…Maybe not while you’re on the highway.”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “Idiot!”

As soon as he’d said the word, Jonah’s ready smile faded. His lips thinned. “Why not just tell me what your problem is then, so I won’t have to ask any more dumb questions.”

Romeo’s head jerked up, his eyes no longer following the second hand of the wall clock. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

Jonah waved his hands impatiently. “I know. It’s just…I just can’t stand people calling me that….” Jonah scowled. “Long story.” He nodded for Romeo to continue. “Just tell me then.”

Staring at his friend for a few moments longer, Romeo finally sighed. “We’ll be in the car for six hours with nothing to do but talk.”

“Okay.” Jonah made himself more comfortable on Romeo’s desk, because he had a feeling this would take a while.

“When I’m nervous I clam up, taking apart anything I can get my hands on, or blabbering about whatever flies around in my head. Should I open another coffee shop down on campus? Or hell…music. Jules wouldn’t know what I was talking about, the same with people – or cake recipes, for God’s sake!”

Romeo had started pacing again, and Jonah briefly thought about telling his friend flat out that he’d just barfed a load of bullshit in his lap, but then thought better of it and just stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been seeing each other for what? Three months?”

“Yeah.”

“Even I know you’re thinking about opening a second coffee shop, and that you continued the family tradition and collect cheesecake recipes like your auntie did. You can’t tell me you guys don’t talk about stuff in between…you know….” He grinned.

“Ha! No.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. What else are you doing? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

Romeo didn’t smile back, though. “He’s a busy architect, Paris. I’m a mere barista. What do you think we’re talking about?”

“Uh-huh. Only you’re not a mere barista anymore, but a successful coffee shop owner. With a business degree.”

Romeo scoffed at that.

“Who is thinking about opening a second coffee shop, I heard.” Jonah waggled his eyebrows again, he couldn’t help it.

“You can’t compare that. We’re very different, still.”

“Being different isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though.”

“For you and Ren this might be true, for me…not so much. I don’t want discussions and power games—”

“Hey!”

“—all the time. That’s a spice I don’t need for my relationship. I want understanding, respect, my relationship should be built on commonality more than diversity.”

“Commonality, huh? And diversity. Fancy words. Okay. First of all, not that it’s any of your business, Ren and I do respect each other. We argue, yes, how else would we get to the make-up sex, but we don’t do power games. Secondly, having different professions doesn’t mean you’re different personality-wise.”

“You don’t understand....”

“Obviously….” Jonah closed his eyes, inwardly searching for patience. “Okay. Explain it to me. What does ‘too different’ mean?”

“When I’m over at his place after work, we usually have dinner. You know, crystal glasses, candles—”

“While you want to veg on the couch making a mess of the sofa with takeout pizza?”

“Not the mess part, but yes, at least sometimes. When we go out, it’s always high-end restaurants or bars.”

“He has never asked you to plan the evening?”

“Of course he has.”

“And?”

“I said I liked it better when he does it.”

“The fuck! And he believed you?”

“No.”

“But?”

“I distracted him.”

“Smart. Not.” Jonah stared at his friend, somehow knowing he was still shirking from the real problem. “There’s something else that is bothering you. Does he drink red wine Chateau de whatever that you wouldn’t know the place if your life depended on it maybe?”

Romeo snickered, but quickly got serious again. “I don’t drink wine. Ever.”

“Let me guess, you never told him that though.”

“I sipped at it.”

“Jesus Christ, Rome! What did you do? Pour expensive red wine in the potted palm trees when he wasn’t looking?”

“No, over the bannister. We always eat on the terrace.”

“I can see what your problem is, now. God! I would so hate it too. Good food, expensive wine…unbearable.” Jonah closed his eyes. “Maybe he likes to spoil you, Rome. And maybe he’d like to eat pizza or Chinese takeout on the couch, drinking beer and watching sports or a movie, or friggin’ porn with you, if you would just talk to him. But with you probably aw-ing and oh-ing about the food and the places you go, he thinks this is what you like. If you don’t give Julian a chance to see the real you, how will you reach your mutual-understanding-and-respect mellow thing? By mind reading? This is wrong, Rome!”

“I know.” Romeo sighed.

Jonah watched his friend, waiting for him to finally tell him why he was suddenly freaking out on him. When nothing came, he asked, “That’s all?” Of course it was not.

“Everything is clean and organized at Julian’s place. There is a drawer for socks, and another for boxer shorts, and yet another for boxer briefs, and one for undershirts. His dress shirts are sorted by colors for God’s sake! After seeing that, I knew I didn’t want him over at my place. You know how I love my apartment, but you also know I’m not exactly what you would call neat.”

Jonah hummed at that.

“Yeah, yeah. If it weren’t for Ren, you would live in chaos as well. Anyway, when he insisted on coming upstairs, I had to spend three nights cleaning the place up, before I could finally show it to him.”

“I’m sure he liked it. I could barely recognize it after the renovation was done; it’s beautiful now.”

“I just have to always think of so many things when I’m with him: Put the clothes in the hamper, the towels too. Don’t leave the toothbrush lying around on the sink - put it back in the holder. Wipe the glass panes of the shower.”

“Does he get angry when you let out your inner slob?”

“No, but it makes me feel uncomfortable when I mess up his place.”

Jonah shrugged. “Maybe he has a housekeeper who does all the cleaning for him. Or he does it himself before you come over, and maybe for the first time you came over, he had to spend three nights in a row cleaning it up so it looked the way it did, and in reality, he is a slob just like you.”

“No. It’s second nature to him.”

Jonah would have started pacing too if there’d been more space. “Okay. Let me summarize: He is an architect, you’re a barista. He drinks wine, you hate wine. Oh, and let’s not forget my all-time favorite: he’s a neat freak, you’re a slob. These are grave reasons not to open up to him. Oh my God! He will run! You’re right! Dammit, Rome! How would you know? You never gave him a fucking chance to get to know the real you!”

“Jonah, please.”

Jonah mimicked him. “Jonah, please.” Then he jabbed his forefinger at Romeo’s chest. “If you two are so different and that’s not what you want for your relationship, why bother with giving him this cleaned up version of you? I’d say, if commonality and being on the same page were really that important as you’re saying, why not tell him who you really are? The slob. Let him listen to Paperhaus, let him meet all your horrible friends, tell him you prefer beer to wine. Show him your cake recipe collection. And, after confirming your differences, you can happily walk away, knowing for sure he’s not the one.”

“You don’t understand…”

“You’re absolutely right! Because what you just told me? It’s utter bullshit, that’s what it is!” Jonah ripped the elastic from his short ponytail, so he could rake his hands through his hair. Not that it helped much to calm him down. “Just in case you didn’t notice, your boyfriend is one smart cookie. I’m using coffee shop lingo here, in the unlikely hope you finally understand. Julian watched you for months. I hate to burst your bubble, hun, but everyone knows your taste in music, and everyone knows you’re anything but a neat freak. You talk about shit all the time. If he hated it, you wouldn’t be together.”

“I—”

“Is he the one?”

“He could be.”

Jonah laughed. “He’s probably wondering what happened to the man he fell in love with. He must be very much in love with you, letting you get away with this for so long.”

“What do you mean?”

“This whole weekend plan screams ‘finding the real Ro-me-o again’. Can’t you see? This is his way of showing you he’s interested in you – all of you – including you leaving your dirty socks under the coffee table every night, because your feet get too warm under the blanket when you cuddle on the couch and you have to pull them off.”

“How did you know—”

But Jonah was on a roll. It was almost 3 pm. Any minute now Julian would come in, looking for Romeo, wondering why he wasn’t waiting for him in front of the coffee shop as they’d planned. “He likes you, you dumbass, a lot. Give him a chance to make his own decisions, will you?” Jonah paused. “Only, this isn’t the real issue here. Right? All the drama, these so-called cheesy romance novel reasons, are a mere sham.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonah closed his eyes, counting inwardly to ten, as he fought to control his temper. “I’m so having enough of this, Rome. Exactly why am I back here with you instead of serving coffee right now? I thought you’d be worried about your precious shop, but then you vomit a ton of stupid shit all over me, of why Julian isn’t the right man for you, only I don’t buy it. Stop it right now or I walk out of this shitty office, and you have to let Oliver off the leash, if you still want to have that free weekend.” He got right into Romeo’s space, their chests almost touching. “You. Are. Afraid. It’s that simple, and because for the life of me I can’t imagine why, you’re going to spell it out for me. Now!”

Romeo said nothing, but stared at the floor. It was only when Jonah started for the door, he finally blurted out, “It’s too good.”

Jonah stopped instantly. “What?”

“It’s too good!” Romeo suddenly yelled. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it always does. It can’t be that easy. He is so much older than me, I can’t be enough. I’ll do something dumb, and he’ll finally see me, the real me, and boom, it’s over.”

“Ah, and in some kind of ill-suited anticipatory reasoning, you put forward all this shit to, I don’t know, force the big bang to happen and get it over with?”

Rome nodded. “Something like that.”

“Holy shit!” Jonah was at a loss for what to say. Well, not exactly at a loss. There were hundreds of words running through his head, all of them not what Romeo needed to hear though, not exactly. Sorting through what he should say, must say, he finally sighed. “It won’t ever be a smooth ride, commonality and shit, Rome. You’re not clones. Or dead. You will fuck up. He will fuck up. That’s the nature of things, the nature of relationships, but if I had to boil it down to one word, I’d say it’s trust. The foundation of a working, living, breathing, and above all, forgiving relationship is trust. I should know.”

“What do you mean? I trust Julian.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t trust him to tell you to shut up when you talk too much, without it being the end of your relationship. You don’t trust him to take your hand and calm you down so that you don’t need to pluck stuff apart. You don’t trust him to know that you like different things than him, without believing you have too little in common. That there can be his music, and your music, and music you will listen to together for example. You can drink beer, or water, or milk for all I care, and I bet he won’t give a shit. Although…” Jonah grinned. “I have to admit, the slob/neat-freak thing could be a problem.”

When Romeo’s head snapped up, looking alarmed, Jonah lifted his hand. “A problem that can be solved, Rome.”

“I—”

Jonah grabbed Romeo’s shoulders with both hands and squeezed them hard. “Do you want to be with him?”

“Yes! But I know—”

“That you know nothing.” Jonah pushed Romeo away. “He’s obviously way ahead of you. He knows something is wrong, and that’s why he came up with the vacation idea, I bet. Now you have three days to explain what’s going on in your caffeine-infused head, starting with sitting in the car for six hours with no one around who could interrupt you.” Jonah picked up Romeo’s suitcase. “So, after giving him that blowjob we were talking about earlier, I strongly advise you to start talking. You tell him all your fears, and not this bullshit you told me, but what is really bothering you.

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It is that easy. Believe me. Don’t fuck up the great thing you’re having with Jules because you’re afraid.”

“I can’t tell him I don’t trust him. He would—”

“Well, you could be a little more diplomatic, but even if you were not…He would be disappointed. At first. But then he would listen, you will have explained everything to him, and because you’re important to him and he loves you, he’ll forgive you. The man loves you, Rome, even a blind man can see that.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Jonah pressed the handle of the suitcase into Romeo’s hand. “I’m not carrying that for you. I’m a barista, not a bellhop.”

“I honestly didn’t want to make things complicated, Jonah. It’s just… it all seems so perfect.”

“And sometimes life is perfect, Rome. Carpe diem. Take that suitcase, and enjoy your road trip. Julian is waiting outside, I already heard his voice. It really is unique.”

“It’s what first drew me to him.”

“But it’s not what made you stay.”

“No. Thank you, Jonah, for reminding me that life can be perfect sometimes.”

“Out! I have a coffee shop to run and an employee to torture.” Jonah rubbed his hands together gleefully.

Poor Oliver.