Cafe Macchiato

RS Gardner

February, 2nd, 1963

Beep. “Dr. Graham, you can come in now” The door opened. A middle aged man with Salt and Pepper hair walked in, He had a large nose and a short, gray muzzle. He was short and stumpy, with bushy eyebrows. He wore a lab coat and a polo shirt. He sat down behind a glass barrier. He was a coward. Afraid of what I could do to him. I’d snap his neck if I wasn’t in this stupid straight jacket and if there wasn’t a stupid barrier.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Graham” He had a thick Boston accent. He was clearly sent here, just like every other doctor, professor, psychologist, therapist, and physician. “Are you-” he picked up a piece of paper and glanced at it “-Corbyn Cooper?”

“Yes” I said, annoyed.

“I’m here to-”

“Save it, I already know the drill. You were sent here to ‘Cure me’. You’ll fail, And give up just like the rest of them” I slowed down on rest, so I could perceive the number of “Doctor Geniuses” that tried their best to “Cure me”.

“Yeah, That’s pretty much it.” he said, But he was smiling.

I hated that. Every little thing about this “Doctor Genius” bothered me.

“I need you to answer a few questions, if that’s okay?”

“No, That is not okay”

“Oh, O-okay then” His smile wavered.

Beep. “Mr Cooper, You are obligated by law to answer the questions” The voice said. I bit my tongue.

“Okay then, Let’s get started” he said, way too joyfully.

A loud, strained sigh escaped my mouth.

“First, Have you had any thoughts of killing or injuring someone in the last week?”

“Not until you walked in here.”

“Uh, okay then” He scooted back. “S-second question”

I grunted.

“Do you ever think about what you’ve done?” he continued

“Do I!?” I began to laugh. He scooted farther back.

“Every second of my life is ravaged by what I did!” My laughs turned into tears. “Every second” I murmured. I gasped, returning to my normal state. “So, yeah. I think about it pretty often.”

“U-uh huh”

He scribbled something down on a piece of paper. “That’s all I needed to know”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered.

“Well” he grabbed a briefcase. “I’ll see you tomorrow” Those last four words echoed in my brain. I’d never heard a doctor say that to me. I was shocked. I stayed up all night thinking about it.

February, 3rd, 1963

Beep. “Mr Graham, You may enter.” Doctor Graham walked in. “Good morning Corbyn” I shot up, surprised that it was still morning “Listen–” He took a sip from a coffee mug “-Today we’re not gonna be doing much all we need to do is–” “-What kind of coffee is that?”

“What?” He sounded confused “What–Kind–Of–Coffee–is–that?” I asked again, slower. “Oh, It’s cappuccino, why?”

“Cappuccino, pff, more like crappaccino,” I scoffed “Excuse me? What would you prefer?”

“Cafe Macchiato.”

“Cafe Macchiato? He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Are you human?”

“Says the one who likes cappuccinos.”

“Ugh, Can we atleast agree that lattes suck.”

“Lattes suck? What is wrong with you?! I bet you also hate Irish too!”

“Maybe,” he said quietly. We both laughed “What’s your opinion on Espresso?”

“I can live without Espresso,” I thought about how long it’s been since I had a coffee.

“On that we can agree,” he picked up his coffee “Well I will see you tomorrow”

I gasped. He said it again.

February, 4th, 1963

Beep “Mr. Graham, you may enter.” Dr. Graham walked in, smiling. He slipped something into the shared drawer. “Good morning Corbyn.”

“What was that you put into the drawer?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Why don’t you open it and find out,”

I opened the drawer and grabbed the cylinder object inside. “Gah, that’s hot!” I shouted. I pulled out of the drawer and set it on the counter. A paper coffee cup sat in front of me. Corbyn was written across it.

“Is this–” I got excited, “A Cafe Macchiato?”

I took a large sip, ignoring how hot it was. “Thank you,” I said, tearing up. I couldn’t tell if it was because the coffee was hot or because no one had done anything nice for me in a long time.