emmamakepeace

Sunday morning breakfast was always busy.  The crowd of diners chatting loudly over there soy chai lattes and cappuccinos.  Knives scraped china plates as they sliced through thick pieces of sourdough toast and poached eggs.  Tables spilled out of the cafe onto the sidewalk, tempting passers by with the smell of freshly cooked bacon.

They sat opposite each other, food untouched on their plates.  Over the top of my newspaper I watched her looking past him, towards the door.  Her fingers twisted the napkin in her lap.

“You haven’t touched your food.  Aren’t you hungry?  ”  He said.

“Not really.”  She said.

“I ordered your favourite, I thought you would be hungry.”

“I ate before I came.”

“Oh.”  He said, his face turning to the full plate of food in front of him.

I turned the page of the newspaper.  A waitress placed my plate of eggs benedict on the table, along with a fresh coffee.  The waitress smiled, then hurried off.  I followed her, until she stopped at the couples table to ask them how the meal was.  He nodded, while she continued to stare past him.  The waitress walked off, leaving them alone again.

“I really wanted to see you, to talk to you.”  He said.

“We’ve already talked.”

“But, I wanted to…” He began.

“No.  I shouldn’t have come.  We’ve talked and we’ve gone over everything.  There is nothing else to talk about.”

“I suppose that’s it then?” He said, his face flushing red.

“Yes.”  She said.

They continued staring at each other for a moment.  Oblivious to the bustle of the cafe.

“I’m going.  Please don’t…”  She looked at the doorway, then back at him.  ”This is it.”  She said, reaching for his hand to squeeze it.

She put her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back.  I watched her, staring past him as he watched her too, walk out the doorway.

I watched him a moment longer, staring at the empty doorway.  Before turning back to read the paper, taking a long sip of my coffee.

Cold rivers of water ran down his neck, wetting his shirt.  He didn’t have an umbrella.  Just a rain coat, over the top of a Superman t-shirt she’d given him and a pair of dark denim jeans.  The wet grass reached up and licked the hem of his jeans, soaking them through to his knee, his legs goose-pimpling with every touch of fabric.  He walked the last few steps and saw her.  Waiting beneath the fig tree. He was glad she’d picked this spot.  The mass of leaves and thick knotted branches up above blocked out most of the rain that had poured down the past few days.

“Hi,” he said as he reached out, wiping drops of water from her, ”I’ve missed you.”

A crow cawed from somewhere in the shelter of the fig tree.  The sound echoed amongst the other gnarled trees, that stood protectively around the edges.  Just inside the border of the moss covered rock wall.  The cracked, green and brown wall was what had first attracted her to this spot.  They had driven past one day, on their way home, and she’d made him pull in to the little driveway.  The sun had sparkled on the tops of the leaves and glowed on the well manicured lawn.  She led him down the winding path, stopping to read plaques on the chipped stone and tracing her fingers over the lettering carved into the marble nestled neatly into the earth.  She’d loved the trees the most though.

“They’ll keep me dry, when it rains.” She’d said.

A knot formed in his throat, as he stared silently at her.  He struggled to get the feeling down, his head nodding as he swallowed it away.

She’d smiled, mistaking the nod for agreement.

“If you come to visit me, it will be shady for you too.”

“I’m not going to have to visit you here.  You heard what the doctor said.”

She’d come closer, reaching her fingertips out to his hand then.  Lacing them through his and squeezing softly.

He held the hand up now.  Tiny shivers racing through his fingers.  He brushed his fingertips across the letters carved into the cold, damp stone.

“I love you.”  He said.

He looked out through the thick heavy rain drops, then lowered his head and stepped out from under the protection of the tree.  Rain soaked his hair, racing down his face and neck as he trudged back to the car.