Maggie doubted entering the café.
In fact, she had been staring at the front door for about 15 minutes. She was late for her date for twenty minutes. Glazing on the front door was not the silliest strategy to postpone the moment of entering. The door was beautiful, made of dark wood. And she looked as if she was waiting for somebody, examining the meeting place. But she was not the one who waited. She felt afraid and a bit silly.
|The phone rang |
- Yes, sorry for being so late. I’m opening the front door.
- It’s OK. I’ve just come.
Her new beau Gregory chose this place for their first date. The place was good, but he lied her about his “just coming” – not the best start. The place was even better than Maggie had expected. It gave some special kind of felling - homelikeness. It was small. There were only four tables. A middle-aged guy in wooden eyeglasses was trying to have a conversation with a bit frightened elderly lady, presumably his grandmother, on a first table. The second table was taken by two young girls and a boy in a nice vinous shirt. Gregory was seating on the third table, dressed up in his best violet shirt and a bow-tie. Maggie was more than a bit upset, because she hated violet and the bow-tie seemed to mean something like too much efforts. It simply was too much when she was dressed in her old worn out jeans and her father’s shirt.
- Hi, you are so beautiful tonight.
- Thanks. I like your bow.
- Sit down, please. Here is the menu. They make an awesome cocoa with marshmallows.
- I would like a big cappuccino.
- Whatever you want. I’ll call the waitress.
Maggie started doing her favorite thing – glazing around. The walls, pale brown walls that seemed to had been milky few decades ago, whispered to her “Coffee with milk, please”. The shiny wooden floor, all this old-old dark furniture that, had been doused with espressos and lattes million times; it yelled on her “Coffee!” And even the massive bar covered with plates with different cakes reminded her on gas station from “The Grapes of Wraths” by Stainbeck. Especially heartily she was glazing at the coconut cake. The waitress, a bit plump lady with a funny pony-tail and disarming smile came to their table, crooning
“Cold coffee” by Ed Sheeran:
- How can I help you?
- I would like cocoa with marshmallows. And big cappuccino for pretty lady.
- Perfect choice. Our barista makes the best cappuccino on the earth.
Maggie fell out of reality for few seconds, came back and said:
- I would like to go out to smoke.
- I don’t smoke, but you are free to help yourself.
- Sorry, just few minutes.
Maggie opened the door and got her cigarette. She was not the only one addicted to tobacco. The two of three: a girl and a boy, from the second table certainly were too. She listened to them, lighting the
cigarette: - Did you hear that: “An awful waitress… Bla-bla-bla… She does everything wrong… bla-bla-bla… She better stay from the right side. She takes the plate wrong. “
- She works as a waitress too. What have you expected?
- I’ve expected something else after two-years-brake of our friendship.
- You know Kate.
- Yes I do. And I’m sure that she has problems. She wouldn’t have called us unless she had.
- Maybe you’re right, darling.
- I’m done. Let’s come back and ask her straight.
The cigarette was over Maggie forced herself to enter the door.
She entered and suddenly stopped near the first table. The elderly lady had a beautiful voice:
- Oh, sweety, the play was great. I haven’t been in theater, I guess, since you grandfather’s death.
- We should do it more often.
- I don’t think so sweety. I’m getting tired too fast, and I’m sure you have more important things to
do.
- Or you just prefer staying at home alone, aren’t you, grandma?
- Maybe, I just don’t want to see the time passing so fast in this city.
The elderly lady finally noticed Maggie, as everyone did, in fact. That is why she had to come up with something:
- I’m sorry; I just wanted to ask about your beautiful earrings. Where did you get them?
- Oh, darling, you won’t find such anywhere now. My husband presented them to me twenty years
ago.
- Oh, pity. But they look wonderful. You look wonderful.
- Thank you, sweety.
The situation seemed to be saved and Maggie came back to her table. George looked a bit confused:
- I thought you felt bad when you started staring at that lady.
- I was a bit in fact. I haven’t eaten anything today.
- I knew it! I risked ordering two pieces of cake. Oh, here they are in fact.
- I’ve been thinking exactly about… oh, it’s coconut! How did you guess?
- It’s just my favorite.
Suddenly, someone started yelling. Maggie hadn’t even noticed the last fourth table taken by a family.
It was the daughter yelling at her parents:
- How can’t you understand? It’s my life! I don’t want to be an economist. I want to be an artist!
- But, darling, what about earning money for living? We won’t supply you until our death. And we
won’t unless you will obey our suggestions.
- “Obey suggestions”? Don’t you think that it sounds a bit silly, daddy?!
- No more silly than the idea of beaning an artist!
Maggie was completely involved in the family quarrel and didn’t even noticed how she had eaten her cake:
- It’s getting hot here. Are you done with a cake?
- Yes, I guess.
- Would you mind joining me for a little walk.
- With a great pleasure.
- Bill, please.
Maggie looked a bit lost. George took her hand and they walked out the coffee house. The cold breeze put Maggie back to reality:
- I’ll take this silly bow off. I just tried to make an intelligent impression. Did it work out?
- No, actually. You look much more intelligent without it.
- Thanks. I’m sorry for this noise in the coffee house. It’s usually a very silent place. I like it because it reminds me on gas station from “The Grapes of Wraths” by Stainbeck. It’s my favorite book.
- Mine too.
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