The Man In The Cafe

She knew him as the man she served coffee to every morning and night

Each morning at precisely 8:15 he would stroll in with his coat draped over his forearm setting off the small bell above the door. He’d look around, scour the place in one swift motion before making his way to his usual seat in the corner by the window. Table 7.

There he would sit quietly scrolling through his phone for no more than a few minutes before raising his hand to motion her over. A notepad and pen in hand she would make her way to him. After having served him every day without fail for the length of the past year, she could now confidently predict what his order would be. Coffee, black, two sugars and cream.

He was a polite man; some would even say charming. To her, he was a gentle giant. He was without a doubt an intimidating man. Not because of his stature and muscular physique, but in the way he held himself. His aura reeked of power, and his posture was similar to that of a military man. He was always so immaculately groomed; from his smooth and shaven face down to the suit he fashioned each day. Anyone could tell he was a man of status.

Perhaps he was just another rude and callous man. Maybe he was harsh and abrupt. But to her, he was the most polite man she had encountered in a very long time. There was an honest charm about the way he spoke, and he never forgot his manners. He seemed happier at night; more content, but that could have just been because he knew his working day was finally over. When he left he always left her a tip that equalled more than his coffee.

She depended on those tips for the bus fare back to that little run down building she knew as her home. The man waiting for her there was in no way near as polite as the man in the cafe. The man she resided with spent most of his time passed out on the worn liquor stained sofa. If he wasn’t there, then he was nursing a bottle of whiskey in the local pub not far from their house.

He wasn’t always like that. Her father used to be such a good man. He used to be so dedicated and nurturing; faithfully playing the part of the genuinely caring and comforting father. He didn’t look at her the same way now. After her mother left when she was only a little girl he slowly grew more and more distant with every passing day. She assumed isolating and drinking himself into a stupor was his way of grieving over his wife. She came to learn that that was not the case. She was too much of a painful reminder of what he no longer had that he couldn’t bear to look at her for more than a few moments before his reminiscent stares turned into one of distaste and bitterness.

But that was fine with her. She understood. She still loved him. However, there were aspects of their relationship that she was not so understanding. He had a tenancy to get very physical whenever he’d had too much to drink. Usually, it was just the small things like shattering bottles and glasses or punching dents and even holes into the wall. But he had never taken it out on her. Until the day he did.

He always apologized though, after he came out of his drunken state, blaming it on the alcohol. Each time she forgave him. Because how could she not.

After that first hit that left a red imprint on her cheek, they slowly grew more frequent, and gradually she learned to hide away when he was in reach of a whiskey bottle; which, nowadays, was more often than not. It wasn’t exactly very challenging to do what with her working day in and day out.

She needed the money, and it kept her busy. Plus, the environment was usually friendly enough. Some days were more trying than others. Not everyone that walked into the little coffee shop had a pleasant personality and welcoming smile. Still, she taught herself to hold her tongue and put up a smile even when she was dealing with customers that didn’t deserve the kind treatment she was told to hand out.

That’s why she couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that slipped past her lips when her gentle giant wandered through the doors stopping to do his usual once-over of the place. The early morning sun from outside surrounded him like a halo as he moved to his seat.

She glanced at the clock, waiting patiently for the minutes to pass. She shifted her gaze back to the man who raised his hand in the same instance. Swiping the notepad and pen off the counter, she made her way to table 7.

She always found herself slightly stunned whenever he looked up at her from where he sat. It wasn’t that he was so handsome that he merely took her breath away, it was more her inability to comprehend that one man who seemed to be so powerful and superior could be so warm and gentle.

“Hello again,” He murmured with a kind smile.

She focused her attention on the tablecloth and returned his smile. “Good morning. What can I get you?”

Putting her pen to the pad, she repeated in her head what she knew he was about to say; coffee, black, two sugars and cream.

“Coffee, please. Black, two sugars and cream, thanks,” She scribbled down his order, but the pen slipped when he continued speaking. “Though, I’m sure you already knew that,”

She looked up, furrowing her eyebrows slightly. He was still smiling at her, but now there was a glimmer of humour laced in with it. “I’ve been coming here for over a year now. Surely you’ve memorized what I’m going to say,”

Her hand dropped to her side. “It’s my job to ask,”

His smile fell faintly at her serious reply and the absence of the joking smile. He cleared his throat. “Right,”

“That’ll be -”

“Five minutes,” He finished for her with another smile, small this time. “I know,”

Bowing her head, she returned to the kitchen. While she was preparing his drink she pondered over their brief conversation; if you could even call it that. It was probably the most they’d ever spoken to each other. It wasn’t their first conversation, but it was the first that didn’t revolve around exchanging automatic pleasantries.

She finished his drink with the standard fern design and a light dusting of cocoa powder. She weaved her way back to his table and set the cup and saucer down in front of him. “Here you go,”

“Thank you,” He replied.

She turned to leave but was forced to stop when he called out once more to her retreating figure. “Are you ever not working?”

She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly before turning around again. “With all due respect, sir, my hours should be none of your concern,”

“You’re right, they’re not. I was wondering when you ever have time to yourself,”

Looking down at the freshly polished floor she answered timidlyand quietly. “I work twelve hour days seven days a week. Beyond that is none of your concern. Does that answer your question?”

He sat back in his seat with a satisfied frown. “Perfectly,”

“If that’s all then I’ll leave you to enjoy your drink,” Giving another quick and swift bow of her head she turned and hightailed it back to the safety of the kitchen where there would be no more inquisitive customers wanting to know the details of her roster.

Probably twenty minutes later the bell on the front counter chimed and she stood from her stool. He was shrugging on his coat when she appeared before him at the till. He looked up.

“$4.75?” He asked whilst pulling out his wallet from his coat pocket.

She rang it up. “As usual,”

“Keep the change,” He slid a five dollar note across the counter. “Thank you again for the drink. It was wonderful,” He smiled kindly at her before stepping over to the bowl designated for tips and dropped a note in.

Her customary grin fell and she rushed over to the bowl looking down at what he left for her. “Sir, you can’t keep doing that,”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “I think you’ll find I can,”

“Well, you don’t have to keep doing that,”

His lips turned up into a sly grin. “I know. But I want to.” He turned back around and once more the daylight outside the windows surrounded his frame. “Have a nice day,”

The bell above the door let out a soft chime in response to him exiting the cafe and her gaze followed him as he turned and disappeared out of her sights.

She didn’t even know his name. After all this time she still had no hint of what he went by. Since he was the solitary type and only ever sat by himself she couldn’t have picked his name out of a conversation even if he was approached by strangers.

All she knew was that he was a businessman. She had heard him discussing deals and partnerships before when he occasionally took a phone call. It wasn’t surprising he needed the fuel of caffeine to make it through the day. His work sounded important and stressful, far more draining than anything she had to put up with.

After he left she went about checking on the customers while wearing her procedure smile until the time came for everyone to leave for their day jobs. When it was quiet and the room was empty she let her mechanical smile fall and stood in the centre of the cafe amongst the tables and chairs. She was alone again.

It was a Sunday so it was reasonably quiet; quiet enough to need only one staff. Her. Everyone else was busy on Sunday’s. They all had families to be with or simply wanted the time to recuperate and sleep away the morning. She, on the other hand, had no one that she particularly wanted to spend her day with. Sure, she had her father, but he was hardly the best company, especially when he was either passed out on the couch or in a violent rage.

And so she worked. She earnt as much as she could to support both her and her fathers drinking habits. And while she in no way agreed with it he was easier to handle when he had a few litres in his system.

She shook herself out of her haze and turned to retrieve the spray and wipe to clean the front counter. During her lunch break, she took her small snack - a day old muffin - around the corner to the park where she ate alone on a solitary bench.

When she returned she fell back into the rhythm of work. The time went by almost uneventfully until one pimply teenager decided to scurry away before paying for his meal.

She shut her eyes tightly when she realized what that meant. The price of his food would have to be covered by her tips, specifically that of her generous strangers she had acquired that morning.

Without her ever really noticing it the sun had slowly begun to set and only when she looked outside to see the lamppost illuminating the streets did she realize how late it had got. Instinctively she looked up at the clock. There was half an hour until she was set to close up shop. That time went quickly and by then all the customers had already left for their no doubt cozy homes.

She flipped the open-close sign on the door. The lights were already turned out and the stools were stacked up on the tables. The only thing left for her to do was retrieve her worn satchel and she would be ready to lock up and leave.

Her bag was slung over her shoulder as she counted her tips. Sundays had always been slow and usually, there was barely enough to cover her bus fare home. That along with the amount she had to make up for the dishonest teen meant one thing.

She grimaced. It looked like today was going to be one of those days where she would have to wrap her coat tighter around herself as she made her way back home in the dark.

The bell above the door which she had neglected to lock rang out and caused her to tense.

“Am I too late?”

She whipped around at the sound of the all too familiar voice. He stood directly in front of the door that had just swung closed again with another soft tinker.

Her mind had been so occupied with other things that she hadn’t realized he’d missed his usual nightly coffee. It also made sense of why she was was a few dollars short on her tips. Her regular whom she depended on hadn’t come until now. Obviously, she wasn’t about to turn him away now. Not when there was a chance his tip would allow her to take the bus home instead.

“I’m sorry, I’m pushing the limit. I know you’re closed,” He admitted, stepping further into the darkness and closer to her. “I was just hoping I could get one to go if that’s not being completely rude,”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine,” She whispered in reply. “Have a seat. I’ll go get you your usual. I’ll be right back,”

“Thank you, Lily,” She heard him murmur as she disappeared into the kitchen and she froze for only a moment. That was the first he’d spoken her name.

It was no mystery how he knew it; it was printed right there on her nametag. She just wasn’t aware that people actually took notice of those things.

She returned with his drink in a sealed travel cup and handed it to him. Without hesitation and with his free hand he reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out two crisp notes. She looked down at them.

“The five is for the drink. The ten is for you,” Having not taken the money she looked up to meet his eyes. Upon seeing the hesitation he thrust his hand closer to her. “Take it,”

She took the five.

It was true she needed that ten. But it still didn’t feel right to just take it out of his hand. She would feel better if he left it in the jar for her to take after he left.

“I meant both of them,” He said more firmly. “As a thank you for serving me despite already being closed,” Again she only looked at him. “Please. I want you to have it,”

Finally, she reached out and took the note he was offering. “Thank you,” She whispered hoping it was loud enough for him to hear.