Coffee and Memories

Suzie Ellis stood in front of her canvas for almost ten minutes without lifting her brush.

Usually, painting quietened the noise in her head. Colour became thought. Brushstrokes became conversation. On good days she could lose hours without noticing time passing.

Today every colour looked wrong.

She sighed, dropped the brush into a jar of cloudy water and stepped away from the easel.

The studio was silent in the dawn sunlight except for the ticking radiator and the distant rumble of traffic beyond the old warehouse windows. It wasn't perfect. The brickwork was cracked, the floor creaked and the heating only worked when it felt like it.

She loved it anyway.

It was home.

Her phone buzzed on the workbench.

A banking notification.

Her balance had slipped below the figure she'd promised herself it never would.

Rent was due next week.

She still hadn't heard back about the hotel commission she'd spent nearly a month preparing.

If that fell through...

She forced herself to stop thinking about it and wiped dried paint from her palette instead.

The radio murmured quietly until a familiar name made her freeze.

"...Adrian Vale attended the London premiere last night despite ongoing controversy surrounding allegations made earlier this week..."

Her hand stopped moving.

She hadn't heard Adrian's name spoken aloud in years.

She'd seen him on magazine covers and caught interviews while channel surfing, but hearing his name now felt strangely personal.

"...the actor has denied all allegations through representatives..."

Suzie switched the radio off.

Silence settled across the room.

She didn't believe it.

People changed.

She knew that.

But the boy who had once spent an entire summer helping her paint ridiculous murals because she'd declared they were "future masterpieces" wasn't violent.

He'd been patient.

Kind.

Hopelessly competitive.

Smiling despite herself, she crossed to an old cabinet and opened the bottom drawer.

Inside sat a battered cardboard box filled with photographs and scraps of childhood.

She found the picture almost immediately.

Two twelve-year-olds sat cross-legged in the sunshine.

She was concentrating so hard on her painting that her tongue poked out slightly.

Beside her, Adrian grinned at the camera, both hands covered in blue paint after knocking over an entire pot.

She laughed quietly.

"I remember that."

Her dad had spent an hour scrubbing paint from the lawn while Adrian insisted it wasn't his fault.

"The wind did it."

"There wasn't any wind."

"There was emotional wind."

He'd always had an answer.

Back then they'd spent entire afternoons planning their futures.

He wanted to be an actor.

She wanted paintings hanging in galleries across the country.

Neither had doubted it would happen.

Then Adrian won a scholarship to drama school in London.

Phone calls became less frequent.

Letters became Christmas cards.

Eventually even those stopped.

Life simply carried them in different directions.

She slipped the photograph back into the box and locked the studio behind her.

The walk into the city usually cleared her head.

Today it simply reminded her how expensive everything had become.

She stopped at her favourite café.

"Morning, Suzie. You're earlier than normal."

"Morning, Ben. I needed to get out of the studio."

"The usual?"

"You know me too well."

"You'd worry me if you ordered anything else."

She smiled, collected her flat white and turned towards the seating area.

There was only one empty chair.

As she stepped towards it, someone looked up.

For a heartbeat neither of them moved.

Adrian.

He looked older, his dark hair shorter than she remembered, faint lines framing eyes that looked far more tired than thirty.

He stared back with exactly the same disbelief. The woman in front of him had the same eyes and smile as 15 years ago.

"Suzie?"

She laughed nervously.

"I was beginning to think I'd imagined you."

A smile slowly spread across his face.

"I thought exactly the same thing."

She glanced at the empty chair.

"You waiting for someone?"

He shook his head.

"No."

He stood immediately.

"Please."

She sat down, still half convinced she was dreaming.

"It's been a long time," he said.

"Fifteen years."

"You counted."

"I didn't need to."

For a moment neither spoke.

Then Adrian smiled.

"You've still got paint on your wrist. Even at 7:30am."

She looked down.

A streak of green crossed her skin.

"I swear I wash."

"You used to get paint everywhere."

"You weren't exactly spotless."

"I was helping."

"You were making fingerprints on everything I'd already painted."

"I called it collaboration."

"You called everything collaboration."

He grinned.

"It sounded better than admitting I was making a mess."

The conversation became easy after that.

Almost frighteningly easy.

They laughed about teachers, classmates and the treehouse Adrian had insisted they could build without instructions.

"It collapsed in six minutes," Suzie said.

"It stood for nearly seven."

"It fell on your dad's roses."

"It leaned enthusiastically."

She laughed properly.

"I've forgotten how impossible you are."

"I've had years to perfect it."

For a moment it felt as though they were twelve again.

Eventually Adrian asked, "You still paint?"

She nodded.

"I paint at Ellis Studio over by Riverside Gallery."

"I always knew you'd make that happen."

She smiled.

"I'm still trying."

"What about you?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I think you know what happened to me."

"I know what magazines say happened."

He looked down at his coffee.

"That's rarely the same thing as real life."

She studied him.

He looked exhausted.

"I heard the news this morning."

"So did everyone else."

"I don't believe it."

His head lifted.

"You don't?"

She shook hers.

"The Adrian I knew wasn't capable of hurting people."

A faint smile appeared.

"You knew me when I was twelve."

"You were still you."

For the first time since she'd sat down, some of the tension left his shoulders.

They talked for almost an hour.

About painting.

About acting.

About life.

About everything and nothing.

The years between them slowly disappeared until conversation flowed as naturally as it always had.

Eventually Suzie glanced at the clock.

"I should get back."

"So should I."

They walked outside together.

"It really was good to see you," Adrian said.

"You too."

"I never thought I'd bump into you buying coffee."

"I almost didn't come in."

"Really?"

"I couldn't sleep."

She smiled gently.

"I hope things get better."

"So do I."

She waved before disappearing into the lunchtime crowd.

Adrian watched her go.

For the first time since the scandal had exploded, he realised something extraordinary.

For almost an hour...

He hadn't thought about it at all.