I think I wrote this for a girl called Lauren
They walked into the red and orange pastry shop, him leading the way through the labyrinth of customers, legs, and old, damaged furniture. Finding a spot in the centre of the hubbub he pulled back a chair and offered his hand. She paused for a second, looking at it in front of her, noticing a small cut on the palm.
“It’s ok,” she stuttered, “I can sit down by myself.”
“I was going to take your coat.”
“Oh. I’m fine, thanks.”
“It’s warm in here, are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
They sat there for few seconds, him filing through the menu and her looking around the room. An interesting assortment of portraits surrounded the walls, which were almost as cluttered as the café itself. There were paintings, photos, and drawings all mixed together forging a discordant eclecticism. The place felt modern, despite the smell of baking. School kids, students, business types, and artists all sat around reading and chatting in this a giddy hubbub, and the room was full of welcoming but indiscernible tones. On the next table sat a heavily overweight woman in a loose shawl, knitting a complicated book cover above her gigantic bosom. She muttered in a singsong voice that revealed her southern roots, and apparently to the busy needles in front of her.
“…Oh, Lordy, look at me now, what have I done? Well, you’re the reason why I haven’t been sleeping. You been keeping me up and disturbing me. No, not until I’m finished, not until then. Then I can get back to Arnold. That’s better…”
She looked up for a second and noticed him staring, and immediately smiled until her eyes had almost disappeared.
“Well, hello! How rude of me, I almost didn’t see you there. How are you two?”
“Fine, thank you. Just about to order.”
“Well don’ let me stop you. I just love to come here and do my knitting. This is the first book cover I’ve knitted here – it’s for my nephew’s bible. He’s goin on about four years old now so I told my sister he’s to have one. I want him to read it but my sister’s not got that much time for Jesus. She’s gone a little strange lately. My, don’t you two look like a nice couple, so young and so pretty. Well, you enjoy your night. My name’s Claire, by the way.”
“I’m Nick, and this is Lauren. Cheers.” he said, turning bright red.
He looked again at the menu. The lady smiled, and then continued knitting, now humming what sounded like a hymn.
“Should we order?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m not sure what I want. What are you having?”
“The baklava – it’s amazing. And I think a double espresso as well. And maybe something with blueberries.”
“You’ve been here before then.”
“Yeah, a couple of times. It’s nice, and the portions are decent for the amount that it costs. Have you ever tried baklava?”
“Yeah, it’s ok.” She reached down and scratched her ankle, pushing a fork onto the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
A few more moments passed as she studied the menu. He started looking around the room, impressed with how diverse the crowd was. Students and suited men sat walled-in behind their laptops, teenage girls chatting about themselves, an old guy in the corner watching them as they talked, the hat that he was wearing tilted perfectly in the lamplight, the tired waitresses drifting here and there with coffee and cake, straws and napkins leashed to their slender waists, their dance education obvious through their controlled gestures and steps, a painting on the wall which could either be a vagina or a knife, a couple talking about their days while under the table they locked hands and knees, a guy in a flat cap reading a paper, wheezing hard every now and again before saying “shit” to anybody and everybody, the girl sharing the table with him obviously disturbed. Nick knew what he wanted to eat already, but he wanted to wait and see what she was going to order. If she bought something fancy then he would too, but not chocolate.
“It all looks so good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I know. I’m finding it hard to decide what to get.”
“What are you thinking?”
She looked up at him for a second as if she needed to say something, then looked back at her menu. He could see a couple of beads of sweat lying on her forehead. She coughed, looked back up, and smiled.
“I don’t know, Nick,” she sighed, “it’s just too much.”
“What do you mean? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push anything, we didn’t have to come here, I just thought you’d like it. We could just get a coffee and go if you want. I’ve got my bicycle outside.”
“No, I meant the prices. I want to get something… exciting.”
“Oh.” He looked back at the menu. What an arse! What are you saying? Stop being so nervous! “Um, do you want to share something?”
“Yeah, that would be great. What do you think of the fluffy chocolate heaven?”
“I don’t know, it sounds good. You want to try something else?”
“Well, you said the baklava is good.”
Nick looked again at the extensive list of cakes. “What about the caramel, banana, coconut delight? That’s pretty good.”
“No, I don’t like coconut. Have they got anything with pralines in it?”
“I’m not sure, but the baklava is nutty.”
“Perfect.”
They ordered their food and talked to one another, this time without the pauses. He felt her foot brush against his leg for a moment, but she was just crossing her legs. After a glass of wine they started getting a little more relaxed, and they started to smile a little more. After they’d finished eating Lauren picked up her empty wine glass and studied the light as it refracted through it. “What about another chocolate cake? You think there’s another good’un?”
The lady on the next table laughed an ascending cascade of tri-tones and turned her head to face them.
“Now, dear, why you wanna go and ask a silly ol’ question like that, huh? Of course there’s chocolate cakes here. Do I look like the sort of woman who would go and eat at a place which didn’t have all sorts of chocolate cakes? You just go on up there an’ take a look, why don’t you? But don’ get lost, because I just can’t look at all them wonderful cakes without getting lost. It makes you so warm it’s like your daddy just gave you a big ol’ hug.”
She leant back again, tired from this little outburst, then did a little fart. Only slightly audible it was accompanied by a little squeak of surprise as she picked up her book cover again. Looking down at it she said, “Now look what you made me go and do,” and continued humming her tune.
They ordered some more wine and food, ate it, and then got coffee. Nick looked at his watch. 12:37am.
“This was nice, no?” he asked, looking straight into her eyes.
“Yeah, but it’s getting late.”
“You want to go?”
“I’ve got to practice tomorrow before my lesson.”
“Yeah, I’ve got work too. Listen, how are you getting home?”
“I’m taking a cab.”
“Nice.”
“I think it’s worth it. I just want to go home and sleep, you know?”
“Sure. Me too.”
“It’s been nice though, this is a nice place.”
“You want to do it again sometime?”
“I don’t know.” She broke her stare to look at her fidgeting hands. He noticed that the place had gotten a lot quieter now that most people had left, the old man and the fat woman next to them being the only ones left. The silence was only interrupted by the faint sound of utensils hitting each other in the kitchen, and the cash register as the money was counted. He sighed, dripping the very last drop of wine into his glass, which he then drank. She looked beautiful in the dim light, and her emerald eyes looked so sorrowful he wasn’t sure if he could see a tear or not. She had begun playing with the large green emerald on her index finger. He reached over and held her hands in his.
“Listen. I’m really sorry about this. I’m sorry I left you, and I’m sorry I lied. I thought we could have gotten married, some day, and that our love was complete, and maybe it was. I didn’t want to break it up, but I kept on telling myself that I had to, if I were to stay in love. I’m too young to want to stick myself into something like that. I don’t know what I want to do, I don’t have a job, I’m lazy, and I’m not ready for something as intense as that, yet. I mean, it was getting worse as it got more intense, and so I got scared. I also realised that we were very different, which is something that can be dealt with if we were older, and more comfortable. Going to sleep next to you, making love to you, knowing I was going to see you later; I had the best time of my life with you, and I’ll never forget that. However, now that it’s over, I miss you so bad I feel like hitting myself for letting you go. I feel like all this stuff that I’ve worked out is all bullshit, that I’m lying the whole time. I don’t want to get into that, as I think we’re always lying, but this is different. This is secret from both of us, and I don’t know whether I’m right or wrong, but… I’m sorry, I’m losing myself. Oh yeah, I loved you like I hadn’t loved anyone else, and I felt like I knew you pretty well. I still remember that, and I want to keep that, so I thought that doing something like this every now and again would be ok. You know, catching up, eating, having fun, just showing each other that we’re both ok, I guess, and not dwelling on what isn’t anymore. You know? This was so easy for us, why not at least say it’s possible to see each other as friends?”
“I don’t know. Listen, I have to go, but I’ll call you next week to get my stuff back.”
She stood up, put a twenty dollar bill on the table and left. Claire put her needles down and turned to face him.
“Don’t worry, darlin, it sounds to me like you did the right thing. That don’ mean it don’ hurt none, and it also don’ mean you’re gonna be happy ‘bout it neither, but you’re gonna be ok. It’s like I told Arnold before he died, if he thinks I’m gonna be the same with him in heaven then he’s got a shock comin’. He left me, so now I gotta keep goin’, and once you get goin’ you ain’t never gonna stop goin’. Don’t ever ask a woman to be the same after you left her, it just ain’t possible. Well anyway, I’m sure she’s gonna be alright, and that’s just how it’s gonna be. And if you asked my advice I’d tell you the same thing, but maybe you should just be there for her, just in case. I gotta go, or I’m not ever goin’a wake up tomorrow, an’ if I don’t do that I’ll never get this ready for Jahmal’s first bible. It’s been nice talking to you, Nick, real nice.”
