Sunday, November 20, 2011

night shift

He had been watching her for some time. He did not go to any great lengths to alter his appearance – his face was one that people saw everywhere. A blend of this and that. Average. He knew that people zoomed in on anything different, ready to praise, far readier to judge. But he was free in his ordinariness. He knew that she never noticed him. And so he went to the cafe every Thursday night, hunched in the back with endless cups of coffee and a newspaper. Once he thought he saw a glimmer of recognition in the waitress’s eyes, but it faded. No, no one ever remembered him. Not even her, and she served him every week.

This Thursday was like any other. As always, he had arrived first. He liked watching her walk around the cafe. She’s a thin girl with blond hair, was what he would say if someone asked about her. Sometimes she laughs too loudly and the manager warns her not to get so friendly with the customers. She’s never on time for her shift. She smells like flowers, like spring, even though winter was supposed to kill everything. She always smiles, even when someone cracks a pathetic joke. She’s very polite, he would tell them. She’s a good girl. I know she likes to write. I see her scribbling on napkins when the place isn’t busy. Her writing’s really good.

Sometimes he wondered if he loved her, but he did not know for sure.

The words on the newspaper meant nothing to him. He did not care what was happening in the world. Why would he? This was his world. Here, he was king. The girl approached him with her ready smile. She placed his coffee on the table; he noticed her hands were trembling, but he did not say anything. He nodded his thanks. She blinked and turned to serve other people. His eyes drifted down her body to her legs. She had a run in her stockings. Pale flesh was evident through the gash, milk-white. As if she felt him staring, she turned around. He thought he was smiling but she did not return his smile. He dropped his gaze and looked into his coffee. His reflection was murky in the dark water. Sometimes he thought sugar would make the coffee taste better, or maybe some milk, but he liked routine. He tried not to grimace as he took another sip. The coffee was always bitter, but today it was also cold.

When he looked up again she was staring right at him. Not through him, like all those other times. Not glancing at him for a brief moment. Her eyes pierced into him, and he did not know if he liked the feeling that flooded his veins. She had him pinned like a butterfly on a board. Her eyes searched his face, like he had something that she had forgotten. The boy did not know what to do. He stared back at her, daring her to remember him, daring her to say something.

The girl turned towards the kitchen. With movement, the spell was broken, and he resumed looking at his coffee. She had recognized him. He was sure of it. His heart seemed to rise until it filled his throat. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Once they noticed him, he could never see them again. The girl would remember him. If he ever came back, she would continue smiling, but there would be a falseness in it. There would be a glimmer of knowing on her face. She would think that she knew him. He would be the boy who sits in the back and doesn’t complain about the terrible coffee. She would laugh with her coworkers when he left, and tell them about the way he watched her walk.

The waitress returned a few minutes later with the boy’s refill, but he had gone. She looked around the cafe, hoping to spot him, but he wasn’t there. She had noticed him from his very first visit. He had a way of smiling to himself as he read the paper as if he was the only one in the room. Sometimes he took the napkins she wrote on when she left them lying around. Lately she had written poetry just for him, but he never acknowledged it. His eyes were the colour of the cafe’s signature cappuccino. That was her favourite drink. She had intended to offer him a cup, free of charge, but he had left early tonight. The sight of the empty table made her tray a lot heavier.

The waitress approached a couple who sat at a table close to his. They smiled as she placed their croissants before them. She made small talk, chattering about the snow, but she couldn’t stop looking at the boy’s empty chair. She wished he would have stayed. She wanted to ask him what his name was.

“Excuse me,” the waitress said, “but do you know when he left?” She pointed at the table. “He comes here all the time. The boy in the leather jacket? Really brown eyes? Look, he left his newspaper.”

The dark-haired girl shook her head. “We’re here a lot too. I don’t think we’ve ever seen anyone like that. Have we, Josh?”

“At the loner table?” The platinum blond shrugged. “It’s not April Fool’s, is it, ma’am? There really wasn’t anyone sitting there. I see the coffee, but from the looks of it, it’s ice cold.”

“But he always comes here,” the waitress said.

“Sorry.” The dark-haired girl picked at her croissant. “I wish I could help you. Maybe he just went home. It’s pretty ugly outside.”

“Maybe,” the waitress said.

The boy didn’t say anything more, but his violet eyes kindly asked her to serve someone else. The waitress left them alone and walked to the windows. She pressed her face close to the glass and peered out into the night. She didn’t know what she was expecting to see. There was only darkness, punctuated by white dots.

She wished he would have stayed. She loved him.

6 comments:

  1. I added comments again, simply because I had to express how lovely it was to visit the blog this morning and read this wonderful little beauty. I am truly blessed ! <3

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  2. aww! <3 i appreciate your kind words. whenever i write, it's for the blog. it's always nice being able to draw on our world for inspiration!

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  3. I miss the days when we were lively teens churning out stories like butter (and not cheeseblocks, ha!). When I reflect on old entries, I'm stricken with how much more somber we are. Must be aging, and "the reality" of things and such, eh? Hopefully I can write some Pokemon adventure stories soon~ I've actually been brainstorming, can you believe it!

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  4. XD "The loner table"..!!! Ha~ I love this Karelos/Josh cameo. I'm also curious about Ordinary Man. I wonder who he is? Possibly a spy? Not only is he ordinary but also mysterious! Hope to read more writing from you soon. Too bad we couldn't do November's writing month thing. But December is better anyway, AND it has Christmas!;)

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  5. yesss 2008-2009 were our glory days in writing. :D but then, we had more time to do what we wanted, because we only had hs. now we have more ~responsibilities~ and so forth. but things aren't all that bad! i still like writing, even though i'm not as inspired/carefree about it. can't stop, won't stop! you have an artistic soul you know. you can't kill it! please post pokemon stories~ i would love to read them. honestly! how about we do 12 days of christmas in the form of one-shots/stories? yes? yes! ;D

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  6. Haha! 12 days of Christmas in writing sounds wunderbar;D LOL I never know which day to start haha. Maybe I'll just end up doing some advent calendar thing. It sounds like a great plan!

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Behave yourself, now. ;)