Make This Coffee To-Go

The perfect parking spot right across the street from the restaurant is open, but for a moment you consider skipping it and parking a block over so he doesn’t see that you’re still driving that same ten-year-old red sedan with the long scratch on the driver’s side door. You know you’re better than this — the little material victories just don’t matter to you — but they do to Jonah.

You rush out of the car anyway, not because maybe he won’t see what drove here in, but because you’re running late. Even though you know Jonah isn’t going to say anything about it, he is thinking about it. Right now. You rush into the bar that daylights as a restaurant — his choice. He’s loving this.

Sam is sitting closest to the door. You see him and your heart melts a little bit. Sam smiles at you and says your name, and you’re a snow cone on a summer holiday. It’s almost enough to forget that Jonah is right next to him, smugly waiting his turn. Sam is wearing the same turtle shell eyeglasses as Jonah, but he is also wearing the Seattle Sonics t-shirt you gave him last Christmas. You knew he’d love that shirt.

After a warm greeting with Sam, you and Jonah exchange a firm, but polite handshake. Sam is watching. You have to play up the friendliness so he doesn’t detect the subtext. To no surprise, pleasantries segue into a superficial deep dive into Jonah’s frustratingly unsatisfying career — that he fails to humbly present as if he’s curing a disease of poverty — until Sam’s subtle yawn reminds you that you are ignoring the real reason you’re even listening to Jonah. But you can’t overcorrect. You can’t give Sam false hope. You and Jonah are never going to work.

You glance at the paper brunch menu before you, but when the waitress only drops off coffee, reiterating that the other didn’t order anything to eat, you realize there is no interest on Jonah’s side to make this work either. Good. You flip over the menu to the beverage side. You’re on the same page for once. You ask Sam if he is hungry, but he says not really while making a scrunchy face. You actually are hungry, but you can’t make this into more than it is, so you ask the waitress for a coffee, as well, but to make it to-go. Your alpha move. You are now dictating this exchange. You have signaled loud and clear that you will be collecting Sam and leaving on your timeline … which is as soon as your coffee comes!

While Jonah stirs both of his creams and a sugar into his coffee, Sam takes a sip of his, then makes another face. He says he is going to run to the restroom, then does. You and Jonah smile meekly at each other. That jackass is delighted to already have his coffee to fiddle with — just wait for it, two sips and another sugar — while we are alone. But he doesn’t fiddle. As soon as Sam is around the corner, safely out of sight, Jonah leans forward. He says I should know that Sam has been claiming that he is sick for the past two days, but he doesn’t think he actually is, and it’s just in Sam’s head. That, while they still have been able to do some things, Sam has been napping a lot, and acting generally fussy since he arrived in Los Angeles.

You are concerned. How does Jonah know Sam only thinks he is sick, and not actually sick? But Jonah is always so sure of his reads — he even assures you Sam is fine, that he is just in one of his moods. Traveling has been stressful on him. You’re the one feeling sick, really. He always thinks so little of Sam. One of the reasons why you and Jonah will never work.

You remember back in college, when you drove to the state capital to observe the novelty satanic nativity scene in front of the State Capitol (Building). It was supposed to be you, Jonah, and Sam bonding over a shared excitement to see a satirically heathenness publicly-protected display … but then Jonah had to invite his self-proclaimed Satanist friend which really changed the tone of the trip. Why does he always have to push things to the extreme? Did he know his friend’s voice was going to drop an octave when he knelt before the Yule Goat? Why couldn’t that day have been about just the three of us?

Jonah tells you that Sam has been asking for Vernors to help calm his stomach, but all they could find in the store was Canada Dry. We don’t have to say it — we both know that’s not the same thing. Then Jonah says he called Ralph’s and they said they have a few 2-liters in stock at their location in your neighborhood. You thank Jonah for looking into that and say that you will stop by on your way home. He says that Sam has been a little self-conscious about feeling ill and ruining things, so maybe don’t say anything about being sick or needing Vernors. You agree, and say you’ve been craving Vernors for yourself lately. He laughs a little and says that’s good, quite sincerely really.

Jonah really isn’t a bad person …

Sam comes back and Jonah asks him if everything is good, and Sam says it is. Jonah tells Sam to tell you about what you’ve done so far on the trip. Sam says they went bowling in Highland Park and then to the Arts District for some brewery hopping.

You were supposed to take Sam to the Arts District for some brewery hopping. You told Sam you would take him last week. Jonah lives right next to Griffith Park — he was supposed to take him to see the Hollywood Sign!

… but he is a jackass.