It was a fine, crisp morning as I walked to school that day. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. The trees wore their crimson, gold, and copper leaves like elegant ladies in dressing gowns.
I was just on the outskirts of town when Diana ran up to me, breathless.
"Anne, can you believe it?" she panted, "Avonlea has a Starbucks!"
I had never heard of such a fantastical thing - as I first imagined it, I saw a large, luminous deer grazing in a field. I told my bosom friend this and she laughed.
"No, Anne, it's a shop! A marvelous shop that sells coffees, teas, and good things to eat!"
Well, no wonder Diana was so excited. The dear girl loves food more than just about anything. She grabbed my arm and we made our way to this Starbucks she was chattering about. It was like she spoke a foreign language - she mentioned words venti, grande, mochaccino, espresso; and even the words in English made no sense. Cake pops? Extra foam, no whip? Half-caf? Even with my vivid imagination, I couldn't make sense of her manic chatter. I now realize that it must have been fueled with copious amounts of sugar and caffeine, but at the time, it sounded like a fever dream.
I must admit, the captivating aroma hit me before we arrived. It smelled like strong coffee, cinnamon, and vaguely of burnt bread. A line of townsfolk spilled out the door. At the entrance stood a sign that read Starbucks, and underneath it, a drawing of a beautiful woman with a beatific smile. I thought she must be a princess, but Diana claimed that she was a two-tailed siren. How mystical and exotic!
"She is almost as beautiful as you, Diana!" I exclaimed, "She is certainly not of this world, but of an underwater kingdom where it rains pearls and starfish light the sky". Diana nodded sagely.
I had the vague feeling that Mrs. Lynde would not approve of this place. It was far too lively and stimulating. She had told Marilla when I first arrived that coffee would stunt my growth, and that I was scrawny enough as it was (rude!). Marilla told her that both she and Matthew had been drinking coffee for many years, and were both hearty and healthy enough. Soon enough, we entered the shop. It was shiny and new, bustling with energy. Behind a counter stood young men and women, swathed in green aprons, looking serene and all knowing. When I got to the front of the line, a man with a long, blonde beard asked me my name.
"It's Anne, with an E," I told him proudly. I liked that he asked. So many people are careless when it comes to spelling. He wrote my name with an ink pen onto a paper cup. Diana told him that we would both have a venti PSL, and to make hers "skinny". I couldn't ask what any of this meant before Diana cut in, knowingly.
"My mother has warned me about drinking my calories, as I am getting far too stout," Diana sighed. She pulled out her pocket money and paid for us both. I felt funny about accepting her generous offer, but when the bearded man gave her a total, I was glad I had accepted. My pocket money, like her drink, was skinny. I would have to see about getting Matthew to give me a few weeks' advance on the down-low so that I could return this favor. Maybe I could sell a few poems or something.
We went to the end of the counter, and there stood Prissy Andrews with something called a "pink drink". It matched her dress perfectly and appeared to be studded with berries that only grow in summer. It was a cold, lovely looking creation with a cunning little green straw perched askew. "They always get my name wrong!," she said, stamping her foot petulantly. She turned the cup and revealed that it bore the moniker "Frisky". Diana and I both giggled. Prissy looked injured and I tried to comfort her by saying that the drink still looked like a rose, and would by any other name, taste as sweet. This mollified her, and she bade us adieu, saying she'd see us in class.
After a time, a tall, pale woman with a gold hoop through her right nostril called Diana and my names. We went over to retrieve our chalices of caffeinated delight. I was pleased that mine bore the name Anne, spelled correctly, and mortified that Diana's read, "Diana, skinny". It did not bother her one bit. Wonderful Diana! She is a good sport about things, especially when she's not hangry.
I took a tentative sip. It tasted like a pastry that Marilla might make for Thanksgiving - you know, the proper Canadian one. It hardly tasted like coffee at all. It was sweet and exotic; earthy and bitter all at once. Diana explained that it was a Pumpkin Spice Latte, and that they were only available in the fall. I marveled that you could get a pumpkin inside such a tiny cup, and she laughed. It seemed the perfect drink to have if you wanted to warm your hands on it as you gazed out a window on a rainy autumn day. I wanted to put on a cardigan and sit by a fire. I wanted to knit a scarf and listen to sad music. But alas, we made our way to class, and sure enough, when we got there, it was clear that the nice people at Starbucks had been busy all morning. That day, I had an education in coffee, tea, and quick service snacks. Apparently, this Starbucks was only one such purveyor of these items, and that in some larger cities, you might even find a tiny Starbucks inside your general store. I tried to imagine a city large enough for that sort of thing. Never in all my years had I felt this grown-up and fancy. This made puffed sleeves look like childs' play.
That afternoon, Marilla met me at the door, looking grim.
"Rachel Lynde says she saw you gallivanting with Diana Barry outside the Starbucks." I owned that it was true. "I don't mind you drinking coffee, every now and again. Rachel Lynde can take that to the bank. But I worry about you getting mixed up with those Starbucks people and their new-fangled cold press. It's not natural, Anne-girl." She sighed, "But then, my mother thought hazelnut creamer was an abomination, so maybe I'm just as foolish now as she was then. Just don't go into debt over a silly drink, child. Save some of your pocket money for hair ribbons and whatever else young girls are into these days. I don't know. I'm getting old."
I hugged Marilla. "Hazelnut creamer sounds lovely. I believe you and I are kindred spirits. The Pumpkin Spice Latte was lovely, but I don't intend to indulge often. It would be less special if I had one every day."
She seemed relieved. "You're a good girl, Anne. No matter what the people at the orphanage said."
"Thank you muchly for your kindness, Gilbert. I hope you understand that my enjoying this fine libation in no way obligates me to reciprocate with anything more than cordial appreciation." I took a long, satisfying drag of the syrup-laden concoction.
"I am so glad I live in a world where there are Starbucks".
Comments