At The Café
It took Peter two glances at the counter from the newspaper he'd been reading in the back seat in Dunbs-Berry cafe that Wednesday morning, to decide he was going to ask Jane out.
He folded the newspaper neatly, following the indented lines that showed it wasn't the first time folding it, and watched as Jane collected her coffee from the barista who smiled keenly at her as he'd done to other customers.
Streaks of pale brown hair flew over her face and the big black leather purse she hung on her shoulder kept slipping down the sleeves of her green satin shirt which had an undone button that revealed the midsection of the nude bra she wore underneath.
Her lips moved quickly and though Peter couldn't see the earpod in her left ear, he guessed she was on a call, an intense one.
She finally sat down and produced from the black leather purse, a slim medium-sized Dell laptop. Then she undid her hair from the ponytail style it was in to repack it to a bun, gently taking note of the loose streak of hair. She took a sip of her coffee and stuck her tongue out briefly for air, for it had been too hot and had burned her tongue.
Soon she was pressing some keys on the laptop, while still talking. The way her fingers moved over the keyboard made Peter wonder if she was a secretary.
He kept watching from the distance between them, waiting for when it seemed right to go over and introduce himself. But minutes passed and she never looked up from her laptop nor did her lips quit moving.
When Peter looked at the vintage Rolex on his left wrist, the time said it was 45 minutes to noon. He had spent an hour in the cafe. The mug of tea he had ordered felt cold when he touched it. He smiled curtly and lifted himself from the chair, snatched the neatly folded newspaper from the table, and walked with his head high and hands tucked into his plain black pants towards Jane's table.
“Hi,” he said when he got there.
Nonchalantly, Jane lifted her head quickly from her laptop, raised a palm to him, and offered a stiff smile, acknowledging him and as well letting him know she didn't care that he was there as she was too busy to.
“May I?” Peter gestured at the empty chair facing her, and she gestured back with a whiff of her hand, signaling him to go ahead.
Peter gave a curt nod and pulled the chair back gently, making a faint sound as he did. When he sat, he did so with his back laid back into the chair and his legs outstretched to the side and his ankles crossed on each other so that the army green suede shoe he wore would not be hidden beneath the table, away from Jane's eyes.
Jane's fingers paused suddenly in the air just as she was about to punch in more buttons. She stopped talking and took out the earpod in her ear. She sniffed twice. And again. There was a smell, one only she could perceive from a mile away. One that churned her stomach and made her sneeze.
“Bless you,” Peter said.
Her breathing became audible and fast. Peter could see her tearing up and her chest thumping, though the undid button from earlier was now done. She sneezed again.
“Bless you” Peter repeated, though this time he was sat upright and his eyes took in her image in a microscopic view. He could see her pores breeding sweat, her hands struggling to stay calm and her mouth running dry.
“Are you ok? Do I need to call for help?” Peter asked, anxious, as well as curious.
Jane tapped the tips of her fingers on the table as she struggled with her head bowed to say something.
“Are…are…are you…are you wea..ing an aftershave?” Every word cost a gush of rapid breaths.
“What? Um, yeah” was Peter's anxious response.
“Fuck!” She summoned and clenched her fist.
“Should I call for help?” He asked again.
Unable to talk with an open mouth to let more air through her lungs, she waved her fingers at him as one would do when picking beans, signaling him to move away from her.
It took a minute, but he got the note and kept a distance. Same distance he had kept since she walked into the cafe that morning, with a disheveled look he instantly admired.
Hey, I hope you enjoyed reading my short short story. If you did, please go ahead and give it as many claps as you think it’s worth. Thank you!
