The Au Lait Way
2.
Erika awoke with a start, feeling completely disoriented. She realized she was lying on the kitchen floor, wearing nothing but a pair of panties.
Groggily, she sat up shivering. She immediately realized why she was so cold—the refrigerator door was wide open. Leaning over, she slammed it shut.
What happened? She couldn’t remember anything beyond barely making it home from the office. The kitchen was a mess. There was a huge puddle of juice on the floor, and next to her, an empty milk carton.
She pushed her tousled hair out of her face, and stood shakily. Her body felt sore and achy all over. As she surveyed the kitchen, she wiped her hand across her mouth, which was crusty with what looked like dried milk. That brought back some vague recollection of... chugging the entire carton..?
Erika let out a sudden yelp when she saw the time on the microwave clock. After 11 AM! She’d been asleep for nearly 24 hours?!
She immediately phoned work, letting them know she wouldn’t be in, then set about cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. As she mopped up the juice on the floor, Erika felt her strength returning. By the time everything was straightened up, she felt a bit more normal.
I wonder what that was all about, she thought to herself, heading to the bathroom.
She turned the shower on, then picked up the clothes she was wearing yesterday, which she found strewn on the floor in a trail leading up to the sink. She paused in front of the mirror, looking at her chest, which was also covered in a thin, whitish crust of dried milk.
She absentmindedly rubbed it off, as she waited for the shower to heat up, surveying herself. For some reason, Erika found herself thinking of the scandalous blond doctor from her encounter at the coffee shop.
Looking at her own reflection, she was practically the complete opposite of the woman. While she was slim, her own doctor had used the term ‘skinny fat’ to describe her, much to her indignation. But it was somewhat true, she acknowledged with a sigh. She was more or less completely without curves, unless you counted the stubborn love handles and belly fat, which only seemed to draw attention to her flat chest and narrow hips. Her dark hair was flat and lanky when it wasn’t pulled up into a bun. The only really genuinely outstanding feature of hers was her green eyes, which went unnoticed behind what her ex called her black frame ‘dyke glasses’.
Who wants to be liked just for their looks anyway, Erika thought with a shake of her head, turning away from the mirror. That’s how you end up with superficial scumbags like Tim the ex-boyfriend, if he could even be called that for as long they lasted. Plain, he’d called her during their final breakup fight after the brief, argument filled relationship. Built like a boy. And just as well, for the way she just lay there while they were doing it.
Whatever, Erika thought with another dismissive headshake. Parting shots from a loser who was probably crying over her right now, wishing he hadn’t called her a ‘frigid, soulless bitch’. As if... Just because he could never do anything right... Erika detested incompetent men, especially the ones who were intimidated and insecure about her confidence and abilities, which was just about all of them.
She pushed those thoughts away as she stepped into the shower; it felt wonderful on her aching body, which was as tender as though she’d had a brutal workout. She gently massaged herself as the warm water cascaded down, feeling her sore muscles beginning to loosen up.
30 minutes later, she was dressed in a pair of wool pants and a sensible blouse, feeling very refreshed, enough even to go back to work, an idea she quickly dismissed. No reason for that when she’d already called in. The office idiots would have to survive a full day without her to fix their screwups.
Thinking about work, however, reminded her of that delicious latte from yesterday, and Erika decided to head out and get another one.
“Venti latte with whole.”
Erika took the cup from the barista almost eagerly, nearly running over to the table she’d staked out. It was absurd, but she really couldn’t wait to have another taste. Heedless of the hot temperature, she took a large gulp... and then nearly spit it out onto the floor.
The taste was absolutely revolting.
With a huge effort, she swallowed, her tongue and throat scalding from the heat, her eyes watering.
“Ugh!”
She pitched the drink straight into the garbage can and then strode up to the barista, cutting in front of all the other waiting customers.
“That latte tasted like crap!” Erika exploded without preamble.
The barista blinked at the fierce and sudden confrontation, before recovering.
“I’m sorry... I’ll make you another one right now,“ the young woman said. “Same as always, right? Venti latte with soy?”
“Just give me whatever you gave me yesterday. You messed it up, but it was actually decent.”
“Well, I hate to disagree, ma’am,” the barista said reluctantly, and it was plain that she really did. “But I remember making your drink yesterday, and it was the same as every other morning. I pay special attention when I make yours since you’re always... errr... since you’re such a regular customer.”
Erika thought about demanding the little twit tell her what she had really been about to say, but decided to just ignore it. “So you’re saying what? It was my regular soy latte?”
“Yes ma’am, and, like I said, I’ll make another one for you right now.”
A few minutes later and the harried girl was handing the fresh made coffee over the counter to Erika, who gave it a cursory sniff, then took a sip.
She immediately wrinkled her nose, turned her head and spat it out.
“This one’s just as fucking disgusting as the last one!”
Erika threw the drink straight at the barista, who ducked behind the counter as the cup exploded against the wall behind her.
The entire coffeehouse came to a complete standstill.
Erika felt her face flushing in the sudden silence, feeling everyone’s eyes on her, but there was no taking it back now. “I’ll be writing Corporate about the quality control of this shack,” she declared loudly, with an indignation she didn’t really feel, lamely trying to cover up her embarrassment. She whirled on her heel and stormed out to her car.
Driving away, Erika felt shaky with adrenaline and shock. Why had she flipped out like that, over a coffee for goodness sake?
But she realized she already knew the answer... There was an itch in the back of her throat since this morning, a thirst, and it was only growing in intensity. Erika knew that that coffee was the only thing in the world that would satisfy it—the thought of never tasting it again nearly made her weep.
This is insane, Erika thought. It’s just a coffee.
But it didn’t matter. The simple fact was, for whatever reason, she was dying for another one. And she was beginning to suspect she knew where to get it.
She pulled into the parking lot of her building, tore up the stairs and burst into her apartment. She went straight to the hamper, grabbed her balled up tweed jacket, reached into the pocket, and pulled out the business card for the Au Lait Institute for Women’s Success.