Warm Beverages
Lupine Lady watches her hands shiver as she pauses over the keyboard of her rose gold laptop. She wonders if they have always done this, this quaking in-between rhythmic tapping. Before pondering long enough to become concerned, she blames the cardamom latte sitting in front of her, three-quarters drunk with thick, tan tree rings around the inside of the white ceramic mug showing its age of thirty-six minutes. Lupine Lady tells herself to slow down, and to speed up––the latte is now cold. She blames again the ceramic mug, wide at the mouth, narrow at the base, allowing all heat to rise out of the open surface faster than she can drink with enjoyment. The wide mouth may be good for showcasing a barista’s latte art skills, but it is not compatible with the casual pace of Lupine Lady’s sipping speed. She prefers a narrow mouth, herself. A narrow mouth and wide base. The perfect shape to wrap her fingers softly around the back of its neck like it were a lover she was bringing to her lips. Heat hangs around in narrow-mouthed vessels, allowing Lupine Lady all the time in the world to enjoy her beverage slowly without sacrificing scalding temperatures.
Lupine Lady does not believe in lukewarm, and hardly ever orders iced drinks. Only when it would be positively criminal to order hot, such as on those few days last summer when the heat got up to over 100 degrees. But even on those days, if she went early enough in the morning, she could sneak in her necessary warm beverage before the sun rose high enough to knock the air out of the day’s lungs.
Lupine Lady has always loved hot things. As a child, she ate chicken noodle soup for breakfast, no matter the weather or season. Soup is still her favorite meal. And don’t even try taunting Lupine Lady with cold soup––Lupine Lady does not believe in cold soup. Cold soup is another word for smoothie and should be drunk in a glass like the rest of the cold drink family.
Lupine Lady also enjoys the other kind of heat. She usually has at least five different kinds of hot sauce at home and requests a bottle for the table if one is not provided when she eats out. She goes for the spicy salsa, turning up her nose at the unrefrigerated jars of mild Tostitos her friends purchase for parties. Salsa without spice is just tomato sauce. And tomato sauce does not go on chips.
Lupine Lady is a fast eater but enjoys a slow drink. Heat does not allow one to chug, it forces one to savor, or else sacrifice the tongue and throat to scalding. Some do not mind this sacrifice. Lupine Lady has made this sacrifice herself many times, having learned from her father, who never waited for anything.
Now her drink is gone, rings of time showing one hour old, soon to be petrified into the white bark of the wide-mouth mug. She again examines her hands, stretching and flexing and clenching periodically in between the tapping of her fingertips. She is writing an essay, or perhaps a short story––she hasn’t decided. She is in this coffee shop hoping that getting out of her apartment would motivate her to see life from a different point of view. So far all she has witnessed are shaking hands and the last few sips of coffee gone cold.
