Post by chandy on Dec 27, 2007 0:39:53 GMT -5
Just like every morning, the first thing Ellen Cramer did when she awoke was get in her car. She never bothered herself with putting make-up on; she'd never been a fan of caking on pounds of foundation and liner anyway. She literally rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes, grabbed her keys, and left for the nearest Starbucks. This morning, of course, was no exception to Ellen's daily coffee rule.
"You want anything, Mom?" Ellen said, echoing the words that first left her mouth every day as part of her routine. As usual, her mother told her no and to be back soon.
"'Kay. Bye, Mom," Ellen mumbled incoherently, shrugging into her rain jacket and stepping out into the torrential downpour. Ellen huddled up underneath her raised umbrella and darted out to her black Ford Taurus. She slid into the fabric seat, turned the key in the ignition, and tore out of the driveway before she could finish buckling her seatbelt. Just like children had severe sweet-tooths at times, Ellen tended to fall victim to coffee-tooths. She was addicted to Starbucks and wasn't ashamed to admit it. Especially today.
The rain was starting to let up when Ellen finally parked outside the nearly empty coffee shop, so she left the umbrella in the acr. She could run to the door quick enough to not get completely soaked.
The bells chimed as Ellen pushed through the Starbucks entrance - the warm, comforting fragrance of coffee beans and mocha overwhelmed her senses the second she walked in. She breathed it in contentedly as she walked to the counter. No line.
"What can I get you?" the girl behind the counter smiled tiredly, meeting Ellen at the space to order. Ellen tore her eyes away from the rack of new eccentric CDs beside her to glance at the menu above the girl's head.
"Just coffee, please," Ellen told her, thirsty for the sharp, bitter taste of black coffee. She felt adventurous today, and what better to add to her energy than untainted House Blend coffee?
The girl didn't ask for her name like employees usually did - there were no other customers to confuse the order with. The boy sitting in the corner on his laptop already had a mug of something in his grasp...
No. Couldn't be. Ellen blinked, adjusting her vision on the guy. Yes. He was definitely who she thought he was. She would know, after all - Marie had pictures of him tacked up all over her bedroom walls. He was Kevin Jonas.
Ellen took her mug of coffee just after the girl set it on the counter - it was fresh and steaming - and sat down three tables away from Kevin, making sure she had a good view of him. There was no mistaking him for a lookalike - that was definitely him, she decided.
She was debating with herself - she wasn't a Jonas Brothers fan, exactly. Their music was good and she didn't mind them. You could say she tolerated them. But Marie would never forgive her if she didn't at least get an autograph. Dang it. Now she was going to have to say something to him. Why didn't she wear make-up today of all days?
With a nervous inner sigh, Ellen stood up, bringing her coffee with her along with the poetry journal that she made sure she brought everytime she came to Starbucks. She slowly wove through the empty tables until she reached Kevin, who was looking at his computer, oblivious.
She took a deep breath. "Hi, um..." she started. Kevin looked up, surprised to see her there. Had she been there before? he was probably wondering. "I know this is probably the last thing you want to deal with at six thirty in the morning, but I was... wondering... if I could get an autograph?"
He beamed at her and nodded, "Absolutely!" Ellen let out the breath she'd been holding and handed him her journal and pen, which he took gingerly.
"What name should I...?" he trailed off.
"Marie," Ellen answered, feeling awkward hovering over him as he held her poetry in his hands. He could open the pages at any moment and read into her heart... that would be horrible.
"There you go, Marie," Kevin said, handing her the journal and standing up to give her a hug. Ellen stepped back stupidly, and Kevin froze, looking at her.
"Oh, no, Marie is my little sister," Ellen explained. Kevin blushed, embarrassed, but still managed to laugh understandingly. "I'd be the worst sister ever if I hadn't... Sorry..." Ellen said slowly. Now she felt terrible about what she'd done - why didn't she just let him hug her?
"Oh, sorry," Kevin smiled, sitting back down. Well, this was awkward.
"But, you could autograph one for me, too," Ellen suggested with a smile. Kevin chuckled and pulled the cap off the pen again and angling his hand over the paper, on the page after Marie's autograph.
"What's your name?" he asked. Ellen wasn't sure, but she could sense a curious tone to his voice. Like she wasn't just asking for her name so that he could sign her journal. Like he genuinely wanted to know, for whatever delusional reason.
"Ellen." She looked at his eyes and noticed they were light brown and very pretty. She had never noticed before. His hair was thick and curly, different from how it was in all of Marie's posters - wasn't it usually straight? Wasn't the young one the curly-haired brother?
"So, how old is Marie?" Kevin asked as he scribbled in Ellen's journal. Ellen snapped out of her daydream.
"Oh - fifteen. She has a thing for that one... with the hair..." Ellen felt like slapping herself, but luckily Kevin understood and started laughing.
"Nick," he said, nodding. "Everyone loves Nick. It's hard not to, I guess."
"Oh, really?" Ellen smiled. "I guess he's cute. A little young for me, though."
"Yeah? How old are you?" Kevin asked, closing her journal and handing it to her. He had that interested tone of voice again - and, even though he had signed two autographs for her, Kevin didn't act as if he planned on ending their conversation now. Ellen bravely sat down in the chair across from him, and he didn't object. Ellen wasn't even that sure if he noticed.
"Nineteen... Well, I'm turning twenty in three days," she said. Kevin grinned at her, although Ellen couldn't imagine why.
"Happy early birthday," he said. She smiled, blushing, and looked down at the mug of coffee in her hands. The liquid was inky black and still burning hot.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "What about you? How old are you, I mean?"
"I'm twenty, too," said Kevin with a small smile.
"Would that be twenty-two or twenty also?" Ellen laughed, relaxing in her chair. Kevin laughed, closing his laptop. Ellen tried not to jump up and do a triumphant dance that this boy - this rockstar - was paying attention to her. That Kevin Jonas wanted to talk to her over a cup of coffee and a closed poetry journal.
"Twenty also," Kevin answered.
"Ah, so we're close in age then."
"I guess so. Are you doing anything special on your birthday?" Ellen shook her head and smiled halfheartedly. Kevin raised his eyebrows. "No party? How come?"
Ellen shrugged, "I'm not big on birthdays. They are so routine, you know?"
Kevin shook his head, "Continue." The corner of his mouth upturned in a smile that made Ellen flush crimson.
"What I mean is..." she began. "Well, my life is very routine. Nothing new happens from day to day, but they are little things that I can't do anything about. I don't like it, but for me... everyday is the same. Sometimes it's not so bad, but it's annoying most of the time. Birthdays are always the same to me," she explained. "You wake up, your parents make you a special breakfast or something. You go to a party, mingle a little, then open presents, eat cake, mingle more, say goodbye. Go to bed.
"I figure why add to my routine any more if I can help it?" Ellen smiled as Kevin nodded understandingly. Ellen was surprised. Usually when people listened to her routine rant, they lost interest and disregarded what she said as insignificant and childish. Even some of Ellen's best friends would interrupt her speech and say, "Come on, Ellen. It's just a birthday."
But Kevin didn't do any of that - he sat there, looking right at her, and listened closely. He didn't brush off her words as useless or melodramatic; he didn't interrupt her. He listened. It was refreshing.
"And after I finish this cup of coffee, I'll get in my car, put on my seatbelt, start the car, and leave. I'll make two left turns, three rights and then I'll be home. And I'll stay there until noon until someone sends me out to get lunch. See what I mean about my daily routine?" Ellen shrugged. Kevin nodded slowly, thinking about it.
Suddenly, he said, "Then don't."
"What?" she asked.
"Don't turn left, Ellen. Go right. Go to... a park or something," he smiled. I laughed and shook my head.
"I don't think it's that easy."
"Maybe it's easier than you think," Kevin suggested simply. "Or not. What do I know? I'm just a guitarist."
+ + +
Kevin and Ellen talked for about another half hour before he had to leave for a soundcheck. He told her to say hi to Marie for him and to go to a park sometime. She smiled.
About five minutes after Kevin left, Ellen got in her car. She put on her seatbelt and started the car, but hesitated before leaving, remembering what Kevin had told her. Don't turn left, Ellen. Go right. Ellen reached over to the passenger seat and opened her poetry journal.
Her fingers ran across Kevin's autograph for Marie, with a smile, feeling the indentations the pen had left. She could still clearly see him writing this out in her mind. Ellen turned the page to see Kevin's message to her:
Ellen,
Hope you have a great year and can make it to a concert soon so I can see you again! Thanks for the support!
Kevin Jonas
And underneath the name, scribbled in a neat way that made Ellen's heart soar, was a combination of ten digits. A phone number.
Ellen smiled and made a quick right turn on the wrong street. Who cared?
Routines were for losers.
"You want anything, Mom?" Ellen said, echoing the words that first left her mouth every day as part of her routine. As usual, her mother told her no and to be back soon.
"'Kay. Bye, Mom," Ellen mumbled incoherently, shrugging into her rain jacket and stepping out into the torrential downpour. Ellen huddled up underneath her raised umbrella and darted out to her black Ford Taurus. She slid into the fabric seat, turned the key in the ignition, and tore out of the driveway before she could finish buckling her seatbelt. Just like children had severe sweet-tooths at times, Ellen tended to fall victim to coffee-tooths. She was addicted to Starbucks and wasn't ashamed to admit it. Especially today.
The rain was starting to let up when Ellen finally parked outside the nearly empty coffee shop, so she left the umbrella in the acr. She could run to the door quick enough to not get completely soaked.
The bells chimed as Ellen pushed through the Starbucks entrance - the warm, comforting fragrance of coffee beans and mocha overwhelmed her senses the second she walked in. She breathed it in contentedly as she walked to the counter. No line.
"What can I get you?" the girl behind the counter smiled tiredly, meeting Ellen at the space to order. Ellen tore her eyes away from the rack of new eccentric CDs beside her to glance at the menu above the girl's head.
"Just coffee, please," Ellen told her, thirsty for the sharp, bitter taste of black coffee. She felt adventurous today, and what better to add to her energy than untainted House Blend coffee?
The girl didn't ask for her name like employees usually did - there were no other customers to confuse the order with. The boy sitting in the corner on his laptop already had a mug of something in his grasp...
No. Couldn't be. Ellen blinked, adjusting her vision on the guy. Yes. He was definitely who she thought he was. She would know, after all - Marie had pictures of him tacked up all over her bedroom walls. He was Kevin Jonas.
Ellen took her mug of coffee just after the girl set it on the counter - it was fresh and steaming - and sat down three tables away from Kevin, making sure she had a good view of him. There was no mistaking him for a lookalike - that was definitely him, she decided.
She was debating with herself - she wasn't a Jonas Brothers fan, exactly. Their music was good and she didn't mind them. You could say she tolerated them. But Marie would never forgive her if she didn't at least get an autograph. Dang it. Now she was going to have to say something to him. Why didn't she wear make-up today of all days?
With a nervous inner sigh, Ellen stood up, bringing her coffee with her along with the poetry journal that she made sure she brought everytime she came to Starbucks. She slowly wove through the empty tables until she reached Kevin, who was looking at his computer, oblivious.
She took a deep breath. "Hi, um..." she started. Kevin looked up, surprised to see her there. Had she been there before? he was probably wondering. "I know this is probably the last thing you want to deal with at six thirty in the morning, but I was... wondering... if I could get an autograph?"
He beamed at her and nodded, "Absolutely!" Ellen let out the breath she'd been holding and handed him her journal and pen, which he took gingerly.
"What name should I...?" he trailed off.
"Marie," Ellen answered, feeling awkward hovering over him as he held her poetry in his hands. He could open the pages at any moment and read into her heart... that would be horrible.
"There you go, Marie," Kevin said, handing her the journal and standing up to give her a hug. Ellen stepped back stupidly, and Kevin froze, looking at her.
"Oh, no, Marie is my little sister," Ellen explained. Kevin blushed, embarrassed, but still managed to laugh understandingly. "I'd be the worst sister ever if I hadn't... Sorry..." Ellen said slowly. Now she felt terrible about what she'd done - why didn't she just let him hug her?
"Oh, sorry," Kevin smiled, sitting back down. Well, this was awkward.
"But, you could autograph one for me, too," Ellen suggested with a smile. Kevin chuckled and pulled the cap off the pen again and angling his hand over the paper, on the page after Marie's autograph.
"What's your name?" he asked. Ellen wasn't sure, but she could sense a curious tone to his voice. Like she wasn't just asking for her name so that he could sign her journal. Like he genuinely wanted to know, for whatever delusional reason.
"Ellen." She looked at his eyes and noticed they were light brown and very pretty. She had never noticed before. His hair was thick and curly, different from how it was in all of Marie's posters - wasn't it usually straight? Wasn't the young one the curly-haired brother?
"So, how old is Marie?" Kevin asked as he scribbled in Ellen's journal. Ellen snapped out of her daydream.
"Oh - fifteen. She has a thing for that one... with the hair..." Ellen felt like slapping herself, but luckily Kevin understood and started laughing.
"Nick," he said, nodding. "Everyone loves Nick. It's hard not to, I guess."
"Oh, really?" Ellen smiled. "I guess he's cute. A little young for me, though."
"Yeah? How old are you?" Kevin asked, closing her journal and handing it to her. He had that interested tone of voice again - and, even though he had signed two autographs for her, Kevin didn't act as if he planned on ending their conversation now. Ellen bravely sat down in the chair across from him, and he didn't object. Ellen wasn't even that sure if he noticed.
"Nineteen... Well, I'm turning twenty in three days," she said. Kevin grinned at her, although Ellen couldn't imagine why.
"Happy early birthday," he said. She smiled, blushing, and looked down at the mug of coffee in her hands. The liquid was inky black and still burning hot.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "What about you? How old are you, I mean?"
"I'm twenty, too," said Kevin with a small smile.
"Would that be twenty-two or twenty also?" Ellen laughed, relaxing in her chair. Kevin laughed, closing his laptop. Ellen tried not to jump up and do a triumphant dance that this boy - this rockstar - was paying attention to her. That Kevin Jonas wanted to talk to her over a cup of coffee and a closed poetry journal.
"Twenty also," Kevin answered.
"Ah, so we're close in age then."
"I guess so. Are you doing anything special on your birthday?" Ellen shook her head and smiled halfheartedly. Kevin raised his eyebrows. "No party? How come?"
Ellen shrugged, "I'm not big on birthdays. They are so routine, you know?"
Kevin shook his head, "Continue." The corner of his mouth upturned in a smile that made Ellen flush crimson.
"What I mean is..." she began. "Well, my life is very routine. Nothing new happens from day to day, but they are little things that I can't do anything about. I don't like it, but for me... everyday is the same. Sometimes it's not so bad, but it's annoying most of the time. Birthdays are always the same to me," she explained. "You wake up, your parents make you a special breakfast or something. You go to a party, mingle a little, then open presents, eat cake, mingle more, say goodbye. Go to bed.
"I figure why add to my routine any more if I can help it?" Ellen smiled as Kevin nodded understandingly. Ellen was surprised. Usually when people listened to her routine rant, they lost interest and disregarded what she said as insignificant and childish. Even some of Ellen's best friends would interrupt her speech and say, "Come on, Ellen. It's just a birthday."
But Kevin didn't do any of that - he sat there, looking right at her, and listened closely. He didn't brush off her words as useless or melodramatic; he didn't interrupt her. He listened. It was refreshing.
"And after I finish this cup of coffee, I'll get in my car, put on my seatbelt, start the car, and leave. I'll make two left turns, three rights and then I'll be home. And I'll stay there until noon until someone sends me out to get lunch. See what I mean about my daily routine?" Ellen shrugged. Kevin nodded slowly, thinking about it.
Suddenly, he said, "Then don't."
"What?" she asked.
"Don't turn left, Ellen. Go right. Go to... a park or something," he smiled. I laughed and shook my head.
"I don't think it's that easy."
"Maybe it's easier than you think," Kevin suggested simply. "Or not. What do I know? I'm just a guitarist."
+ + +
Kevin and Ellen talked for about another half hour before he had to leave for a soundcheck. He told her to say hi to Marie for him and to go to a park sometime. She smiled.
About five minutes after Kevin left, Ellen got in her car. She put on her seatbelt and started the car, but hesitated before leaving, remembering what Kevin had told her. Don't turn left, Ellen. Go right. Ellen reached over to the passenger seat and opened her poetry journal.
Her fingers ran across Kevin's autograph for Marie, with a smile, feeling the indentations the pen had left. She could still clearly see him writing this out in her mind. Ellen turned the page to see Kevin's message to her:
Ellen,
Hope you have a great year and can make it to a concert soon so I can see you again! Thanks for the support!
Kevin Jonas
And underneath the name, scribbled in a neat way that made Ellen's heart soar, was a combination of ten digits. A phone number.
Ellen smiled and made a quick right turn on the wrong street. Who cared?
Routines were for losers.
