Starbourfront

“Grande Pike, please.”

It was the first thing I ever ordered from a Starbucks by myself. I was a 13 year old caffeine-dependant ball of anxiety. In hindsight, I probably should have started drinking decaf much earlier.

You, on the other hand, never really drank coffee the way I did. When we met, you only ever ordered one thing from Starbucks, the Caramel Macchiato.Tall. You always measured your caffeine intake because “too much coffee gives me anxiety,” so you always ordered the smallest size possible.

Of course, when we first met, all I knew about you was that you short, smart, and pretty. Way out of my league, I thought. We clicked however, when we realized we shared a mutual love of gummy worms… and a mutual understanding of not understanding life. Life was no different from an open body of water fluctuating between still and restless, at times a preserver of life and at others, a bringer of death. No matter how much we knew about living, we both knew that we would never really know much.

God, we were so dark and poetic back then. Can you believe how many existential crises we had back then? More so than we have now, at least. Most people lose friends when they question their lives. Not us. We found a friend in each other because of it. Misery really does love company, huh?

When we first hung out together, we went to a Starbucks downtown by the subway station. We ordered our drinks, my Grande Pike and your Tall Caramel Macchiato. It was late afternoon that day and the sky was painted a cotton candy pink with hints of blue. It was hypnotizing. So much so that I didn’t realize I spilled my drink onto your white sneakers. Well, brown now.

Do you remember how you responded to my excessive apologizing? You laughed. It was an explosive, bellowing laugh that caught me off guard and brought me into its fold. We didn’t stop laughing until the sky was repainted with a cool purple. I never had a friend like you before.

We explored the city together, North to South, East to West. But no matter where we began the day exploring, we’d end up at the same spot by nightfall, the waterfront park in the Harbourfront neighbourhood beside Lake Ontario. It was our favourite spot and home to our favourite Starbucks.

We’d sit in the outdoor seating area and stare towards the water until they closed up shop, and then we’d move onto the “big rock.” You know, the rock at the end of the dock. Sometimes, when the tide rolled in, the entire area surrounding the big rock would flood and we’d tap into our latent acrobatic skills to keep our tradition strong. We’d climb the fence around the dock, shimmy over towards the rock, jump, and try not to slip and fall into the water. A couple of daredevils, we were.

Remember when we found the wilted rose? Remember how much we loved it? Most people scoff at a wilted rose, claiming its beauty has faded and died along with the flower itself. We thought otherwise. In what most would consider macabre and ugly, we found innermost beauty and an apt reflection of our existence. The wilted rose, and everything it represented, became ours.

That evening, we were sitting on the rock dangling out feet over the water, as per the usual. You held up the rose in front of us, droplets of water tickling our skin as the wind blew in our direction, grazing the lake. One of the most beautiful images I’ll forever cherish, the wilted rose settled against the restless water. To this day, I cannot think of a more appropriate image for us.

Maybe it was here that I knew, somewhere inside me, that I loved you. Of course, I was never going to tell you that unless by accident. Lo and behold, it slipped from my mind onto my tongue and onto your ears. You made me laugh so damn hard that I forgot how busy I should been keeping my emotions repressed,

“Oh my god, I love you- adore you, that’s what I said. Adore you, I adore you.”

Normally, this would be enough to send me running into traffic during rush hour, but to my surprise I didn’t feel that compulsion. As it turns out, you adored me as well. That was the last time we hung out as friends.

The next night, we met as we often do, at the Starbucks in Harbourfront. We didn’t order our usual coffees however, it was our first official date after all. It had to be romantic. Only the finest of dinners for us: a cheese pizza and some cheap Merlot we bought at a wine shop around the corner. Of course, the locale was just as important: the big rock at the end of the dock. What better place to share our first kiss?

That was all several years ago, and like the water we used to stare at, we’ve remained beautiful and strong through the ups and downs that have washed over us. No matter how much the area has changed throughout the years, it will always remain ours. 10 years from now, 20 years now, 30 years from now.

It’ll always be our Starbourfront.