Tuesday, February 18, 2025
It's morning. Mr. Daniel receives a message from the receptionist informing him that the foreigner has already gone to the zoo.
"Come on. We need to get to the zoo," he says, getting up in a hurry.
"Wow, I've never been to a zoo before!" I say excitedly, already imagining all the cute animals.
"We're not going there for fun. We're going to make the foreigner drink our coffee," Mr. Daniel counters with his usual seriousness, as if this were some kind of secret diplomatic mission.
I roll my eyes.
We get ready and head to the zoo. The place is absolutely amazing! Too bad we don't even have time to wave at the monkeys. We head straight to the snack bar, where Mr. Daniel starts talking to the manager.
"I'm willing to do it, but on one condition!" the manager says, giving him a sharp look.
"Which is?" Mr. Daniel asks tensely.
"You have to make coffee for all my customers," she says with a smile that promises nothing will be easy.
"Of course. You can handle that, right, Ariel?" he says, turning to me as if I'm some kind of barista superhero.
"Obviously," I reply, crossing my arms and trying to hide my growing panic.
"Here. This is enough coffee to last you the whole month," he says, handing me a bag full of coffee packages as if he's giving me a birthday present.
"Hey, you! Get in here and help me already. The snack bar is packed!" the manager shouts, looking at me like I'm the newest intern at the Department of Chaos.
"But is the foreigner already at his table?" I ask, silently praying for a few extra minutes.
"Not yet. He's looking at the animals," Mr. Daniel replies, checking his watch.
"Hurry up!" the manager insists.
"I'm coming!" I say with a deep sigh, like someone about to step into an arena.
I walk in, put on my apron and hairnet, and within seconds, I'm behind the counter. The manager starts calling out orders like she's commanding a military unit: cappuccinos, espressos, macchiatos, iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate shavings... and even something called an "Instagram coffee."
But I can handle it.
Because making coffee is more than a job. It's a passion.
After serving countless customers—including one gentleman who demanded a coffee that "tastes like a hug from Grandma"—the decisive moment finally arrives.
"The foreigner wants a cappuccino!" the manager announces with the same energy someone might use to announce the end of the world.
"Leave it to me!" I reply, already feeling sweat trickle down my forehead.
I put my heart into it. I use the best milk, make the perfect foam, add a final touch of cinnamon, and even draw a heart on top, even though I know he probably won't notice.
I hand it to the waitress as if I'm passing her an Olympic trophy.
"Good luck, champ..." I whisper to the cup.
I cross my fingers, hoping he'll like it.
I take off my apron and hairnet, already feeling like a war hero returning home.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" the manager asks, raising an eyebrow.
"The deal was that I'd make coffee until the foreigner arrived. He arrived, he drank it, mission accomplished. Bye-bye!" I announce, making my escape before she can come up with any more tasks for me.
I head outside and find Mr. Daniel watching the foreigner from a distance as he drinks his cappuccino, looking like he's waiting for a bomb to explode.
"I hope he likes it..." I say as I approach him.
"He has to like it," Daniel replies, visibly nervous. "If he does, he'll ask the manager what brand it is. She'll show him the package, and... mission accomplished."
"Sir, can we look around now? You know... see the animals, enjoy the sunshine, experience life?" I ask.
"We need to keep an eye on him until the very end!" he replies, as stubborn as if we were on a secret CIA mission.
"We've already done our part! If he really likes it, he'll contact the company. Now let me see the penguins, please," I plead dramatically.
"But..."
"You can stay here if you want. I'm going to see the animals," I declare, walking away with the confidence of someone who's just saved the day—and absolutely deserves to see a happy capybara.
I stop right in the middle of the zoo's main courtyard, slowly turning in a circle, unsure where to start. There are so many paths and signs... and every single one looks equally interesting.
"There aren't any."
A voice behind me makes me turn around.
"What?" I ask.
"No penguins. They don't have penguins here," Mr. Daniel replies, his hands in his pockets and his expression almost serious... but not quite.
"Oh, what a disappointment," I say with exaggerated drama. "Then I want to see the monkeys."
He shrugs, and we start walking together.
When we reach the primate enclosure, we're greeted by a full orchestra of shrieks and jumping monkeys. They play with one another, swing on ropes, make funny faces, and, to our surprise, throw peanuts back at us.
I burst out laughing, and for the first time, I hear Mr. Daniel laugh, too.
It's a rare sound—half shy, half carefree—as if he's not used to laughing so freely. I glance sideways at him.
He actually seems to be having fun.
And that... is strange.
Strangely wonderful.
Afterward, we head to the giraffe enclosure. They approach us with their awkward elegance, and one stretches its long neck to take food straight from my hand. I laugh in surprise when I feel its rough tongue.
"They're so cute..." I comment.
"And hungry," he says, wiping his hand clean, but smiling.
His smile is subtle, almost shy. But it's beautiful.
Really beautiful.
We continue to the kangaroo enclosure, where a baby kangaroo hops right up beside us, sending us into another fit of laughter.
The sun is getting hotter now, and the heat leads us toward the shaded bird area.
Dozens of exotic birds fly freely around us. Within seconds, one lands on my shoulder.
Then another lands on my head.
I can't stop laughing.
"Mr. Daniel, there's a parrot clinging to you!" I say, pointing at him.
He calmly glances at his shoulder, as if he expected this to happen.
"He has good taste," he says.
Two more birds approach, and one lands on his hand.
And then something strange happens.
He laughs.
And it's not just any laugh. He's completely caught up in the moment. His eyes sparkle, and his lips curve naturally into a smile... a genuine smile. The kind that feels like it opens windows inside you.
I just stare at him in silence.
I wish he would smile like that more often.
Maybe he's thinking the same thing, because for a moment, he looks at me.
It's a quick, direct glance that catches me off guard.
He doesn't say anything.
But he doesn't need to.
Then a little bird lands on my head again, ruining the moment with a loud squawk.
"Hey! Easy there!" I joke.
Mr. Daniel lets out a quiet laugh, and we continue walking.
We're now in the fish area, tossing small portions of fish food into the water and watching the colorful koi gather in a spectacular display of colors and movement.
"It's been a long time since I've had this much fun at a zoo..." Mr. Daniel says, his voice almost nostalgic.
"You should let yourself have moments like this more often. Life isn't all about work," I reply with a smile, tossing another handful of food into the water.
He hesitates for a second, his eyes absentmindedly following the fish.
"It's just that my father... He..."
Before he can continue, a zoo employee approaches us in a hurry.
"Hey! The snack bar manager is looking for you," he says, pointing in the direction we came from.
"What were you going to say?" I ask, curious about what he'd left hanging in the air.
"Forget it... Let's see what she wants," he replies, slipping back into his usual serious tone.
We walk side by side back to the snack bar.
"The foreigner wants to speak to whoever made his cappuccino," the manager says, looking a little nervous.
"Does that mean he liked it?" Mr. Daniel asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know... He looked pretty serious," the manager replies.
I swallow hard.
My palms instantly start sweating.
I approach the table where the foreigner is sitting.
"Here he is, sir," the manager says, introducing me.
The man stares at me intently before standing up and extending his hand.
"So these are the hands that made that magnificent cappuccino?" he asks in a strong accent as he takes my hand and gently kisses my fingers.
A shiver runs down my spine. My whole body tenses, and I quickly pull my hand back.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I say, forcing an uncomfortable smile.
"Which brand of coffee did you use?" he asks, still staring at me as if he wants to read my soul.
"I used Grão UP, a well-known brand here in Brazil," I reply, trying to sound professional.
"It was perfect... But I doubt the brand's quality alone is responsible for that," he says, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Grão UP is the best, sir. It's the only brand I use when making coffee," I insist, hoping to shift the focus away from myself.
"Grão UP... Interesting," he says, running his fingers along his chin. "But I'm not interested in importing just coffee from this country..."
He finishes speaking, fixing me with an even more intense and direct gaze that makes me deeply uncomfortable.