The date was August 17, 2007, and Henry moved through the café with practiced grace, serving drinks and plates with a calm professionalism. His eyes kept flicking to the phone in his pocket. Any moment now, Jeff would call with the results from The Pacific mini-series audition.
'Come on, come on… don't make me wait,' Henry thought, forcing a smile at a passing customer.
Across the table, Taylor Swift's bright eyes followed him. "Hey Henry, you seem nervous," she said, her voice light but edged with genuine concern.
'Nervous?' Henry thought. 'I'm calm. Focused. Just… impatient.' "Did I?" he replied with a small smile. "I'm waiting for an important call regarding a job."
It had been about a week since Taylor had started coming to the café regularly. She seemed to enjoy his presence—an observation Henry filed quietly away, aware of the dangerous allure of normal human connection.
"Are you sure you're allowed to say that while you're in the middle of working?" she joked, taking a bite of her second slice of cake.
Henry leaned in slightly, careful to maintain the professional distance of a waiter. "First, you should eat healthier—more than sweets. If you take my advice, I recommend the avocado toast paired with an iced Americano. Second, I forgot to mention—I'm an actor. I just auditioned for a mini-series. My agent told me the results should be out today or tomorrow."
Taylor cleared her throat, adopting a deliberately bad English accent. "'Well first all I will take your advice—it sound delicious—but maybe later, and I'm sure you will get the job,'" she said without breaking character. A small smile crept across Henry's face.
'She's really enjoying this,' he thought. 'I should too.'
"If I may say, Ms. Swift, that is a terrible accent," Henry said, smiling. "And thank you for your encouragement."
"You're welcome. Call me Taylor—I think we're close enough for first names now. Tell me more about the role you auditioned for," she said in her normal voice, resting her chin on her knuckles.
'Mus'… my speech…' Henry's thought was interrupted by the sudden vibration of his phone. He excused himself, keeping his composure, and answered—it was Jeff.
"Hey Henry, good news! You got the part—congratulations!" Jeff's voice was cheerful, almost buoyant.
Henry's chest lifted, a rush of exhilaration washing over him. "Thank you so much, Jeff. I couldn't have done it without your help."
"No, you deserve this. You worked hard. Congratulations, Henry—you're about to become a star," Jeff replied.
Henry allowed himself a small, genuine smile. 'Not a star… yet. Just one step closer.' "Well, we're not there yet," he said.
"Alright, bye! Oh, and by the way—your pay is twenty thousand per episode."
'Twenty thousand,' Henry thought. 'Enough to leave the café. Enough to start living without constraints.' "Okay, thanks. Bye," he said, sliding the phone back into his pocket.
Returning to Taylor, he smiled. "What was that about, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I got the part," Henry said simply.
Her eyes widened in delight. Before he could react, she hugged him tightly, gushing congratulations.
Later, Henry told Stanley, the café manager, that he would be resigning in a few days. The upfront payment of ten thousand dollars for The Pacific made the job unnecessary, and the rest would be delivered after filming.
'Twenty thousand per episode,' he thought again, analyzing the figure. 'The cap for new actors. Experienced actors—like the main cast of Friends—start at similar rates but can climb to hundreds of thousands or even a million per episode.' He smiled wryly. 'I know my limits. I'm not naive enough to think I'm irreplaceable.'
Henry made his way to the hospital, where he volunteered at the cancer ward. He greeted Elizabeth, a thirteen-year-old patient with stage 3 leukemia.
"Hey Beth, how have you been?" he asked, crouching to her level.
"I've been doing quite fine, actually," she said, pride lighting her face. "The doctor said chemo's working."
"That's great," Henry said. He paused, watching her innocence shine through. 'She hasn't changed since I met her. Still enthusiastic. Still smiling. Still alive.'
Flashback:
"Hey Elizabeth, this is Henry, a new volunteer," Marge, the head nurse, had said.
"Hi! My name's Elizabeth, but call me Beth. If you call me Elizabeth, I'll make sure they throw you out," she joked, flashing an innocent grin.
"Duly noted, Beth," Henry had replied with a faintly cold smile, hiding the hollow emptiness that had once defined his own life.
Henry had been volunteering for a month now. Over that time, he'd grown close to several children—especially Beth. She was the complete opposite of him: joyful, irrepressible, always smiling.
'In my last life, my face was hollow. Cheeks sunken. Eyes shadowed. I couldn't remember the last time I'd smiled,' he thought, feeling the contrast keenly.
One afternoon, while helping the children, he noticed the song playing on the hospital's speakers: Tim McGraw—the song that had launched Taylor Swift to fame.
"Do you want to hear something interesting? Something that might make you die of jealousy?" he asked cheekily.
Beth nodded, curiosity shining in her eyes.
"Taylor Swift is a regular at the café where I work," Henry said.
Her mouth dropped slightly. Questions came quickly, and he answered as clearly and honestly as he could.
"Wow… I can't believe you've met Taylor Swift," Beth whispered, still not fully believing him.
"Believe it," Henry said with a small smile. "She's a regular at my café… or at least she was."
"Wait, what do you mean, 'was'?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Oh, yeah. Remember that mini-series I auditioned for? I got it," he said, smiling.
Beth's reaction was immediate—hugging him tightly. "That's great! Congratulations!"
"I'll be filming in Australia for a few months," he added, his tone faintly tinged with sadness.
Her eyes widened at the thought of his absence. "Oh, don't worry, Henry. I can survive without you," she said with a reassuring smile.
'Hopefully…' he thought, returning her smile. 'Hopefully, this is enough for both of us.'