[Let’s break up. I think your sister and I are a perfect match.]
It was a bright, sunny afternoon when I read that message in the coffee shop downstairs from my apartment.
The barista, a young man, was shaking so much he looked like he had Parkinson’s. I recognized him. He’d been working at the coffee shop for a while now. When he first started, he was a good-looking kid, and he managed to get quite a few requests for his number. But as soon as people figured out he had a bit of a mental disability, they all lost interest.
I watched the cup tremble in his hands, a sudden feeling of dread creeping up on me.
In the next second, the coffee cup tipped over. The brown liquid spread across my skirt.
“Hey, what are you…”
First, my boyfriend cheated with my sister. Then, some guy spilled coffee all over me.
I felt the fire inside me rise, my temper boiling over.
I stood up suddenly and glared at the person in front of me, only to realize that he was tall—so tall I had to look up at him.
That deflated my anger a bit.
He looked so helpless, though. His handsome face was full of genuine guilt, his eyes wide with sincerity. I swallowed the harsh words I was about to say.
But I wasn’t the only one angry.
The coffee shop manager, a woman in her forties, had taken him in out of what I assumed was kindness. But at that moment, even she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“How many times have you spilled customers’ drinks?! Can’t you do anything right? I’m running a business, not a charity!”
With the manager’s nagging echoing in the background, the young man actually stumbled over to me, looking pitiful.
Maybe he thought I was a nice person since I hadn’t scolded him yet.
I sighed, my heart moved by the nervous, scared look in his eyes.
“Ma’am, how much does he make working here?” I cut off the manager mid-rant.
She quickly shifted gears, flashing me a fake smile.
“Two hundred a month. I cover his meals and accommodation. He’s mentally challenged, so I don’t think he needs much money.”
Two hundred a month. It was obvious they were taking advantage of him.
I turned to look at the boy, still lost in thought.
“How about I pay you 1,000 dollars a month? Do you want to work for me instead?”
His eyes widened slightly. The afternoon sunlight filtered through his soft brown eyes, gentle and subtle.
“But I’ve already paid him for this month…”
The manager’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she rushed to stop me.
I opened my wallet and took out all the cash inside.
