Coffee Card

Hey Jane, I found the coffee-shop gift card you kindly gave me last Xmas. 

Thank you. 

It was generous and thoughtful especially as it is my favourite coffee store and also because we hardly at all know each other. 

I felt obliged to get you a gift in return. In the usual Xmas hype what I gave you was a bit crap and I felt bad about it. 

It was from a pile of items I stockpiled for my son, nephews and nieces, extended family and friends kids. 

So, belated as this is, as I sit and enjoy a cappuccino, the best I can offer by way of a more worthy present is a story. 

I write and have had some stuff published so there's a skilled trade involved. 

It's not the best story. It might not even be a good story. But it is a true story; which always counts for a lot simply because truth has a lot of value in the good world.

In this case it's our story, which also counts for something. 

This is the story of how over-familiarity can affect people in unintentional ways, and also how that is not always such a bad thing. 

"Who is Jane?" asked my ex-partner. 

"I don't know." I rattled my brain for an answer. It was morning, I had not yet had my habitual caffeine fix to wake me up into a functional state. "My sons cousin is called Jane." I suggested. "She's twelve." 

"Why would a child have sent you this?" insisted my ex. 

"I don't know. What is it?" I asked nonplussed. 

"Its a Christmas card signed Love Jane kiss kiss kiss. That's a little intimate for someone you don't even know who she is." 

"Let me see?"

She threw an envelope at me the way a ninja throws a throwing star. 

"I very much doubt a twelve year old would be buying you coffee vouchers." she added as I read the Christmas card. 

"Oh, it's my neighbour Jane who recently moved in. Perhaps she's being friendly, what with it being Christmas and her working in customer relations she's probably all fired up with goodwill and seasonal cheer." 

"Three kisses? Love? What's going on?" 

"You're jealous because a neighbour who I hardly know gave me a Christmas card?" 

"She gave you a coffee gift voucher. It's excessive." 

"Well that's subjective. She works in a coffee-shop. She probably has loads of them. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? She obviously thinks she stands a chance with you. She knows I stayed last night because my car is parked outside. She timed this perfectly." 

"Babe, honestly it's nothing. You're reading into it. Please don't get so wound up about it." 

"Well she is clearly a narcissist to be pushing my buttons like this. Don't you see you're getting used?" 

"I see you're upset about something which someone else has done that's not really anything to do with either of us. She probably gave one of these to everybody on the street for all we know." 

"How well do you know her?"

"We've spoken socially-polite niceties twice perhaps three times? She's recently moved in next door so understandably she's paid lip-service to finding out who her neighbours are. One time she told me she works in a coffee-shop because I asked her." 

My ex did not drop the topic until new year by which time it was clear her obsession over my new neighbour was massively interfering with our ability to sustain a functional relationship. 

By January I was single again after a fifteen month relationship. The break-up was largely on the basis my ex is a histrionic narcissist. 

Sitting here eight months later, drinking a coffee from the voucher which finally I no longer associate with pressure, guilt and abusive controlling behaviour. 

I contemplate the massive favour my neighbour did by helping, albeit unintentionally, by getting my ex off my back. 

The gift of freedom is priceless. 

The gift of gratitude perhaps less so but nevertheless it is sincere. 

Thank you for coffee.