A Cup of Jo

Yuri’s like a shot of espresso.

The moment you heard that phrase, your mind immediately went to her.

“It’s just so bizarre,“ says Yuri, head against your shoulder with her hands wildly gesturing as she talks. She needs to get her point across or she’ll never shut up. “Like… it’s bitter. It doesn’t taste good at all. Anyone who spends even a penny on it should be a registered idiot.”

You smile. You can’t say anything. You don’t want to. Listening to her talk all day isn’t a problem at all.

She’s past that two-minute ramble about how coffee is a placebo effect made to capitalize off teenagers and burnouts when she notices your stare. She scoffs, pushing your chest.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yuri asks.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re… forget it.” She rolls her eyes. “‘A shot of espresso.’ What a whole load of bullshit.”

-

And yet she pays her tuition by making that whole load of bullshit.

The Cuppa is probably the second comfiest place in the city. You rank it second because nothing really compares to your bed, but goddamn, does the café come close. It’s a cute little place just off campus, a little short of walking distance but not too much trouble. Any student seeking solace could easily find it right here.

But that’s not why you’re here.

“Is your punk ass really trying to steal from us?”

You smile. That’s why.

“You caught me,” you say. “What are you gonna do about it, officer?”

Yuri emerges from behind the counter. She’d dyed her hair a sage brown and it looks strikingly good on her, especially when the sunlight hits. Even in that loose shirt and apron she looks beautiful. You’d tell her that but she’d probably say something snarky, and the two of you would fight like siblings and big bad manager Eunbi would have to yell at you two again.

“How many times do I have to tell you that our stuffed toys aren’t up for grabs?” she asks, hands on her hips. The plushies lined up neatly next to the wall look at you with bright, plastic eyes.

“What the fuck else are they for then?”

Yuri stands on the tiptoes of all her five foot nothing. “The ambience.”

She has a point. The budget set for the interior of The Cuppa was low but you wouldn’t be able to tell. Something about the vintage furniture and the music—was that Baek Yerin? Clearly Yuri’s selection—makes it feel like a place you could call home.

It’s been Yuri’s home since the first year of university. It was odd sometimes to think about it. You’ve known each other for years, back when she wasn’t a slave to capitalism coffee and still hated you. You still think she does, honestly, but it’s all in good jest. The years have only made you fonder of her.

Funny. All your exes shared the jealousy that you were each other’s first kiss, even if it happened when you were barely eighteen. And come on: nothing’s ever serious before college.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Spell ‘ambience.’”

“You are so full of shit.”

“It’s fine if you can’t. But just so you know, using words you can’t even spell is kind of…” You shrug. “Highfalutin.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes at you but the dimple on her cheek gives it away. “The usual?”

You’re not too particular about coffee. Any caffeinated drink that gets you to finish a line of homework without suicidal ideation is good enough. But The Cuppa found you a favorite:

A steaming americano with a shot of milk. Yuri always complained about its simplicity (“I swear to god, you just do this because you want to get yelled at” was what she said once, arms crossed and pouting in her typical Yuri-style, before shoving the menu in your face again) but there’s nothing you’d stand by more. It’s the perfect combination: something hot to keep you up but not anxious. Something sweet to keep you satiated but not spoiled.

So that’s exactly what she makes. You see her tiny face on the surface of the warm espresso before she splashes it with cream.

“On the house.” Yuri doesn’t even look at you as she makes your drink. Everything comes to her in exact measurements, perfect cups. Routines keep her sane. Anything that slightly disrupts it would drive her insane.

“Thanks. You’re the coolest barista I know,” you say.

You take the mug from Yuri. You’re waiting for her to ruffle your hair as revenge or the usual bratty banter you always give into.

But for once, Yuri has nothing else to say. She just smiles like she spotted an inside joke in that sentence you’re not privy to, and leaves.

-

Okay, so for some background to avoid any confusion. You and Yuri most certainly did not meet like lovebirds—you didn’t meet in a café or in the school hallway where she dropped her books in front of you and you picked it up for her. Not that had to do with anything because you aren’t hookups or exes or anything like that. You just happened to grow up together in the same town.

And you honest to god despised each other. Yuri was a difficult kid, running around in mud-caked sneakers and hair sticking to her forehead. But she wasn’t the conventional type of difficult—she didn’t do any of the delinquency shit Hitomi fell into or talked back to her parents. There wasn’t even a record of delinquency in her files. No, not at all. Her parents actually adored her. She was the only good thing that came out of their messy, tumultuous marriage. Their precious little girl. Poster child of a perfect child. She only seemed to be really difficult with you.

There’s one early memory you have of Yuri that isn’t blurred like a wet camera lens. It’s set in the now overrun park near your middle school. She was staring down at a pond. She was fifteen years old, you think. Just turned. You were around the same age yet she seemed to carry a quiet confidence about her, the attitude that always gave her what she wanted.

“Hi,”you said, because you were tired of the unspoken rivalry and being someone she hated for no reason.

Little Yuri just kept looking down at the body of water. Big, curious eyes examined the colorful fish under the rainbow surface. These were the few things that survived the mass construction of your little town. It was all the authenticity it had left.

“I said hi,” you tried again, because if there’s anything your mother taught you, it was that the quietest people made the best friends. All it took was a single bright conversation—

“Don’t talk to me.”

Well.

It took them a while to open up sometimes. That was fine. You were an earnest little kid. You believed that if you waited, said things at the right time, you could make friends with the enigma that was Jo Yuri. Yuri was cool. You wouldn’t be able to tell at first, from her tiny frame and big eyes, but she was exactly someone you’d like to befriend.

So you kept quiet. She matched your silence with no problem. She only spoke to correct you when you messed up a word. She didn’t make the slightest expression.

“It’s a nice day out.”

“It is,” she replied, the monotone of her voice making it seem like a misfortune befell her and it was your fault.

“Do you like ponds? Miss Kim talked to us about it yesterday. She said sometimes fishes are there.”

“Ponds are okay.”

Finally, something you had in common with her. “I think so, too!” you said excitedly. “I like this one. I can see your pretty face even when I look at the water because it’s so clear. Like glass.”

Yuri stood up straight. There was a crease in her brow that she seemed too young to have. “If you’re trying to flatter me into being your friend, it’s not gonna work.”