The Extraordinary Café - Finish The Story #48

The warm smell of fresh brownies drifted across the cafe, ducking under the tables, squeezing through chairs, urged on by the fans; it flew. A gooey batch, chocolate chips still soft, had appeared on the counter. So loudly rang the placing of the tray, that Matt’s eyes glanced over, his mouth already watering, and so the enticing aroma managed to make him half consider ordering two.

Over Matt’s head, a clock's hand ticked a steady background beat, drawing his attention. For all wandering eyes, it was ten to two; she was twenty minutes late. A huff of impatience escaped his cracked lips, his mind drifting back to the crowded room.

An elderly man sat slouched at the table across from him, his broadsheet newspaper out of place in a room full of faces glazed by the light of phone screens. Matt‘s hand instinctively touched his own in his pocket. If he got it out, his eyes would be glued hard to it, in case the light flashed. His mind knew it would vibrate, but the flash came first. It was an addiction he couldn’t fight. Not to the phone. To her.

His mind buzzed and beeped, unable to fight the itch of wonder…

“...where was she?”

The old man‘s mouth let go of a cough, accompanying the symphony of crinkling as he flipped a page. Matt’s eyes darted up, accidentally catching his gaze, the man smiled at him eagerly folding the paper away.

Matt’s mind shuddered, cursing itself as the man rose, heading towards him. As soon as the stranger came within ear shot, Matt called out trying to put him off.

“Sorry mate, I’m waiting for someone.”

The grin over the worn face widened.

“Someone who still ain’t here yet, ‘ow about a bit of company, to help with the waiting? Whatcha say?”

Put on the spot, Matt’s thoughts already ablaze, he found himself nodding before reason could interject. The flame in his mind was inundated with worries and the urge to call her now - to see where oh where she was. Matt didn’t have the patience for small talk, but it was too late; the elderly man was lowering himself into the chair opposite.

The chair eeking with the slow applying pressure of aching joints, a wry smile found itself on the old man’s lips. In the opposite side of tension: a forced smile began forming on Matt’s dry lips, his hand quivering but extending for an introduction.

My Entry:

---

The old man accepted the invitation, their hands connected, one wrinkled and stiff the other smooth and firm.

“I’m Matt.”

“Mr Simmons.”

Matt looked at the man quizzically. The greying skin of his hand was cold to touch. As he retreated, his elbow made contact with his mug, it slipped and fell to the floor with a crash, hot chocolate pooling around white porcelain.

A woman swooped in clearing away the broken mug, the pieces clinking in the dust pan.

“Can I get you a replacement?” She asked.

“Tea please, milk, two sweetener.”

“No thanks.”

“He’ll have a brownie, actually make that two.”

She dashed off before Matt could say he didn't want one, but the smell of warm chocolate still lingered in the air and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten much today, his nerves had been sustaining him. His eyes darted back to the clock, she would be late to her own funeral Matt thought bitterly.

“I love a good chocolate brownie. This place makes the best, I’ve been coming here since I was a kid, its changed hands a few times but they always make the best cake.”

Mr Simmons smiled warmly, memories swimming behind his eyes.

Matt’s leg shook, hidden underneath the table, his hands twisting in his lap. He told himself it would be rude to check his phone.

“My wife and I used to come here all the time. We met here when we were kids, I even popped the question here.”

He leaned in and whispered the last part, a hearty laugh bubbling up from his chest, quickly turning into a cough.

“Where is she now?”

Matt hadn't really been paying attention and didn't realise his mistake until he saw a glimmer in the old man's eye.

“She passed some years ago now, we always thought I would be the first to go, with my heart and lungs and everything else.” He laughed again, the sad bitter laugh of a man in pain.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be son, I was happily married for forty-six years.”

The server returned and placed the tea and brownies onto the table. Steam rose from the cup and the smell of chocolate engulfed them. Matt brought a brownie up to his lips, he nibbled at the corner, a smile spread across his face, the old man was right, they were the best.

“You said you were waiting for someone?”

“My girlfriend.”

“She pretty?”

Matt smiled again, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“I think so”

Mr Simmons nodded.

“Love her?”

Matt's smile disappeared. The question was a serious one, one he had known the answer to for a long time. His hand instinctively reached for the small velvet box in his pocket. The old man was still a stranger.

Mr Simmons accepted the silence as an answer.

“I loved my Elise.”

“Elise?”

At that moment the cafe door swung open, the entrance bell ringing. A woman stood in the doorway closing an umbrella, her hair blown into every direction.

Matt sighed.

“That would be my Elise.”

The old man's eyes crinkled as he looked at the younger version of his wife, the memory of that afternoon his most brightest.

This is my entry to the @bananafish Finish The Story Contest #48. Find out about it here.

_{I have to admit this brought tears to my eyes as I wrote it. The intro just made me think that Matt and the old man were the same person and it became a traditional love story with the old man reliving such a clear memory of something so pivotal in his life.}

Image from Pexels.

_Divider.