Miranda Dickinson - Take A Look At Me Now

I think Lizzie must have sensed my unease because she grabbed my arm when we had completed a large loop of the neighbourhood and were walking back towards her apartment.

‘Right. I’m taking you somewhere where you won’t be hugged, hounded or stalked. Come with me.’

She had stopped outside the ebony-black frontage of a coffee shop, its windows dressed in swathes of purple velvet with the name Java’s Crypt painted in spidery silver letters above.

I stared at it. ‘It looks like a funeral parlour.’

‘Appearances can be deceptive. You’ll love it.’

Java’s Crypt was the kind of place you would run for the hills to avoid in the UK, but here in San Francisco its presence on Haight Street made perfect sense, despite being slightly scary to walk into at first. I could imagine Edgar Allan Poe feeling right at home in its black and purple interior, sipping his iced Java latte beneath silver spider’s web lampshades in booths bedecked with purple velvet and black lace. The coffee shop (or ‘caffeine lair’ as Lizzie told me its owner preferred) was buzzing with a diverse mix of clientele, from members of the Goth community to loudly dressed American tourists, Chinese families and kookily attired locals. It was a surprise to see so many people who ordinarily would avoid each other sitting together in apparent harmony.

We approached the black ash serving counter and I jumped as a tall, black-haired man with a deathly pale face and all-black clothes rose from behind it, looming ominously over us. I was about to turn and run when his black-lined eyes wrinkled and a broad smile spread across his purple stained lips.

‘Yo Lizzie! Haven’t seen you in a while.’

‘Hey Ced.’ To my surprise – and amusement – my cousin and the happy Goth greeted one another with a respectful fist-bump. ‘I thought I should introduce my cousin to the delights of your establishment.’

His pale blue eyes flicked to me. ‘Hey, Lizzie’s cousin.’

‘Hi – I’m Nell.’

He held out his fist, the black leather and silver bangles wobbling around his slim wrist. Following Lizzie’s example I offered a tentative fist-bump. It certainly made a refreshing change from the over-friendly hugs I’d been receiving.

‘Good to meet you. I’m Ced. Welcome to Java’s Crypt. What can I get you?’

‘We’ll have two of your Peruvian filter coffees please,’ Lizzie smiled.

‘Cool. Listen, find a booth and I’ll bring it over.’

‘Come here often?’ I whispered to Lizzie when we were sitting down. ‘I didn’t have you pegged as a Goth.’

She laughed. ‘I’m not – as most of the customers in here aren’t. Ced’s wife Autumn is one of my piano students. And they’re good friends.’

Five minutes later, Ced arrived with our coffee, together with a huge slice of white and dark chocolate-swirled baked cheesecake. ‘From Autumn,’ he explained, sitting next to Lizzie. ‘She said she’d been telling you about it?’

Lizzie’s expression was one of pure joy and I had to laugh despite my slight unease in Ced’s company. ‘She did! We spent most of last week’s lesson talking about this amazing recipe.’

‘Your weapons of choice, ladies.’ Ced produced two forks and presented them to us. ‘So, Nell, how long are you visiting for?’

‘Eight weeks.’

He seemed impressed by this. ‘Big US adventure, huh?’

I took a forkful of delicious cheesecake and nodded. ‘Something like that.’

‘Nell just lost her job in the UK, so she’s come out here to have fun,’ Lizzie offered, which surprised me. I must have been staring at her because her smile suddenly vanished. ‘Sorry hun. But that is why you’re here.’

‘It’s fine, I’m just –’ I looked at Ced. ‘Forgive me. I’m still getting used to how forward everyone is here.’

The Goth smiled. ‘It’s cool. And hey, good call. I’m in this city because I lost my job, actually.’

‘You are?’

He nodded. ‘Ten years ago this July. Believe it or not I used to be a lawyer in New York City.’

The thought of Ced as a suited lawyer was incredible, given his appearance. ‘Wow.’

He waved a pale hand. ‘It’s OK, Nell, you have my permission to laugh. I find it hilarious myself. Hard to believe I was the golden boy of Jefferson Jones and Associates on Wall Street for two years. Golden in more ways than one, actually. This,’ he wound a strand of jet-black hair around his fingers, ‘is, unsurprisingly, not my natural colour.’

His dry sense of humour made me smile and I began to relax a little. ‘I like it,’ I replied. ‘How come you ended up in San Francisco?’

‘I got fired. For nothing more than the fact that one of the partners decided to hate me. And that was it for law and me. I walked around Central Park for hours, thinking about how much of my life I’d given to my career – and how fruitless it had proved to be. So, I made a decision. I quit my apartment, trashed my business suits and moved to the West Coast with one suitcase and my guitar. I busked around for a while, met Autumn at a beach gig in Santa Monica, we settled here and within two years I’d opened Java’s Crypt.’

I was amazed by his story but also encouraged that he had achieved so much from such inauspicious beginnings. If it had happened for Ced, could it happen for me? ‘That’s really good to hear.’

‘This town is a place for adventurers, Nell. There ain’t nothing you can’t do here if you work hard at it.’

As we were speaking one of the homeless men Lizzie and I had encountered that morning entered the coffee shop. I felt every muscle tense in my shoulders: in London this situation usually was a precursor to an ugly scene. Calmly, Ced left our table and walked over to greet the man.

‘Hey brother, what can I do for ya?’

‘You got any coffee on hold?’ the man asked, his voice gruff and low.

‘Sure, man. Come over to the bar.’

I watched as the man accompanied Ced to the counter, where the coffee shop owner made him a large coffee. Thanking Ced, the man shuffled out, tipping his baseball cap to us as he went. I turned to Lizzie, confused by what I’d seen.

‘What just happened?’

Lizzie smiled. ‘That happens a lot here. People buy a coffee to take out and one “suspended”. It then means that when the homeless guys come in they have a drink already paid for. It doesn’t happen everywhere, but it’s something Ced has always done since he opened this place.’

I was quickly learning that this was a city that made no bones about itself. Everything was presented just as it was – good and bad, beautiful and not-so-attractive. It was brash and bold and would definitely take some getting used to.

By the time we returned to Lizzie’s apartment I felt as if I’d gone eight rounds with a heavyweight boxer. Succumbing to the jetlag still pummelling my body, I slept for another couple of hours and when I woke I checked my emails, the familiar task comforting. And then I don’t know why, but I clicked on the latest email from Aidan. Despite my best efforts earlier that day to convince myself I didn’t want to hear from him, the temptation to know what he had to say was too great. As soon as I opened it, however, I wished I hadn’t:

From:a.matthews@me-mail.com

To:nell.sullygirl@gmail.com

Subject:Nell – please read this

Nell

I feel terrible. I wish we could talk so I could tell you all this in person. But you won’t return my calls and seem to have disappeared off the face of the planet, so this is the best I can do.

I hated giving you the news about your job and I hated even more that you left before I had a chance to explain.

I fought for you, honestly I did. I tried everything I could to save your job. But I couldn’t change their minds. And now the office is like a morgue and you’re not here. And I miss you.