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I’ve Got To Have My Chai

The line at the Zavijava was as long as usual, but the baristas were apparently in enough of a holiday mood to keep things moving merrily along.

“Are you going to have time to get to the library at this rate, Trilby?” Marta looked at her phone to check the time.
“I’ll be fine. I need my Chai to get me going.”

“Not switching it up for Christmas?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve got Christmas flavors or whatever.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a gingerbread muffin. I’ve got to have my Chai.”

“You’re so set in your ways, Trilby. It’s no wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. Who wants an inflexible stick in the mud?”

“You’re so mean. For someone who’s suddenly obsessed with Christmas, you’re trying awfully hard to get on the Naughty List.”

“Oh, honey, I’m right at the top of the naughty list. You’d probably know if you didn’t fall into a coma the minute your head hit the pillow.” Marta studied the menu intently. ”That’s not something that’s going to endear you to whoever you wind up with.”

“Beds are for sleeping, Marta. How am I supposed to rest my mind if I don’t associate my bed with sleeping?”

“Whatever, Trilby. Go ahead. Stick to your tired routines and see where it gets you.”

“Oh, sure. Rub my nose in it. You think I don’t know what a fix I’m in? Even if I got someone, I wouldn’t be able to do a single thing right. Would I?”

“Not at the rate you’re going. Chai.” She scoffed. “At least get the Chai latte. It looks kind of like hot chocolate.”

“I’m lactose intolerant. Besides, plain Chai is already spicy. Ginger and cinnamon are holiday flavors. See? I’ve got Christmas spirit all year long and I’m extra spicy.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, you are what you eat… or rather drink…” Trilby trailed off.

Marta craned her neck to see what Trilby was looking at. “Are you having a stroke or something?”

“What?” Trilby shook her head as though recovering from a trance. “No! I’m not having a stroke. What kind of question is that?”

“What were you looking at?”

“My grown-up Christmas wish.”

“There’s peace on Earth and a lifetime supply of almond milk out there?” Marta scanned the panorama of Zavijava’s front windows. “Oh, him again.”

“You’re right, though. He’d never pay attention to me anyway. I’m boring and I can’t cook.”

“That’s not true. You’re smart and you’re cute and you’ve got a lot of good qualities. Why waste them on somebody who can’t be bothered?”

“Because he’s so freaking beauti-foo-hoo-hoolllll…”

“Beauty is only skin deep, Trilby.”

“I wouldn’t mind digging in just to be sure.”

“My, you are spicy. Who knew? So, what do you want to do about it?”

“What?”

“So, you want Jeb to stuff your Christmas stocking this year. What are you planning to do to make that happen? As far as I know, Santa doesn’t deliver boyfriends.”

“Marta, if I knew how to hook a guy, I wouldn’t be by myself. Would I?”

“Well, why him? Why don’t you pick someone you have something in common with? He obviously likes being by himself. That’s something you don’t have in common. You want to be with somebody and he just wants to live by himself like some old-time mountain man or a monk or something.”

“Well, they say opposites attract and he’s so incredibly…” Trilby sucked a breath and clutched her hands as if she was feeling his muscles.

“So…? Happy being by himself and having nothing to do with you?”

“Why are you being so down on this?”

“At least pick someone who’s looking, Trilby. He’s a happy little hermit. Just leave him be.”

“Oh, he’s not little. Not at all. He’s so tall and handsome and…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. He’s so manly, he farts sawdust. His masculinity inspires beard growth and an appreciation of sports whenever I’m near him. If he was any more manly he might grow a second-” Trilby’s hand clapped over her mouth.

“Jeez, Marta. What’s your problem? I’m allowed to dream. What’s the matter with wanting to make him notice me?”

Marta pulled Trilby’s hand off of her mouth. “He’s happy being alone. Why can’t he just be happy being who he is? It’s all well and good to want to change yourself, Trilby. Trying to change someone else, well, it never works. You can’t change other people.”

“My goodness. I don’t want to change him. I just want him to notice me. Maybe he doesn’t know how lonely he is because I haven’t made myself sufficiently desirable.”

“Want me to send him a picture of you in those panda bear pajamas? He’s bound to come running.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got to have a make-over. You were right. It’s time to upgrade my clothes. It’s time to dress for success. Dress for the job you want, they say.”

“What job do you want now? You’ve got a very good job.”

“Mrs. Powell. Mrs. Trilby Powell. That’s got a certain ring to it. Don’t you think?”

“Not if he doesn’t ever buy you one because he just wants to be alone to do his woodwork.”

“Oh, it’s a process. I’ll have to whet his appetite.”

“Good Lord, Trilby. How do you know what he likes in a woman? Nobody knows what he likes about anything but carving wood. What are you going to do? Stock up on flannel shirts?”

“I suppose you have a point. How do I find out what he likes?”

“I don’t know, Trilby. He almost never talks. I don’t know if anybody but Jeb actually knows what he likes.”

“Where’s he going?” Trilby started hopping up and down to get a better view of her target’s destination.

“Looks like he’s going into Aundrea’s bakery.”

“Aundrea…” Trilby said with enough venom to kill a whole country of Aundreas. “What could he possibly want with her?”

“Baked goods, presumably. What else would you get in a bakery?”

Trilby screwed up her face and squinted angrily at the bakery across the street. “Aundrea. You could get Aundrea over there and I’ll bet she’d be more than happy to fill the order.”