Cafe Trappings

A conversation between two people at a cafe.

Café Trappings

                Sitting on the intersection of two perpendicular lanes was a dank old café with numerous windows through which only various pastries could be seen.  It was a cold day, so the café was filled to maximum capacity.  In the corner, at a table meant for many, sat two people- a man and a woman.  They had not been alone all too long ago, even though they were alone now.  There were empty and dirty plates on the table, too many for just these two, and some bills placed near each of the plates.  The man stared into his mug, while his fingers twiddled with the buttons of his tweed jacket.  The woman glanced over the man’s shoulder and at other people at the restaurant, before moving her eyes towards her wristwatch.  She sighed when she saw the time, but she did not move.

                It was the man who broke the silence, still looking down at his mug.  ‘See, we don’t have to talk about this, right?  It never happened, okay?’  The woman maintained her silence.

                ‘El, you hear me, right?  We don’t have to talk about it.  It doesn’t matter at all.’  He drank the last of his contents of the mug, before returning his attention to his jacket, fiddling with the buttons again.

                The woman looked down at her hands before speaking.  ‘How can we not talk about it?  How is it not going to matter?’

                The man sighed, and stared at the ceiling.  ‘It’s all up to you.  If you…’  The woman cut him off.

                ‘Don’t give me that bullshit Lee.  Just don’t.  You’re trying to get out of a situation that you made.  And it’s not going to work.’  Her hands hit the table rhythmically as she spoke.

                It was the man’s turn to be silent, and the woman filled in the silence.  ‘You know I’m right.  You aren’t saying anything.  Why don’t you say anything?  Why don’t you defend yourself?  You had plenty to say earlier!  ‘Oh El, I have something to tell you.’  ‘Oh we don’t have to talk about it.’  Have you finally run out of bullshit to tell me? Any more of your f*****g bullshit?’  Her voice remained quiet even though her face became a livid red.

                The man just looked around the room, his eyes settling briefly on a couple, whose faces were never further than a few inches apart.  His face contorted into a sneer and he glanced elsewhere.  He looked out at the pastries, examining them from afar.  He spoke again, returning his eyes and fingers to his jacket.  ‘I’m sorry El.  I truly am.  I should never have brought it up.  But I did.  Life can go on as normal, but only if you just forget about it.’  His hands twiddled with the jacket some more.

                Silence overcame the both of them again.  A waiter came over to check in on everything, and the man ordered a chocolate pastry.  Off the waiter went to retrieve his order, and returned only after a few minutes with the pastry in tow.  The dirtied plates remained on the table.  Still no more words passed between the two.  The man tore into the pastry, applying his whole focus onto that, ignoring the woman across from him.  When he finished, there was a slight smudge of chocolate around his lips.  The woman said nothing.

                The man pushed the plate away, and closing his eyes, spoke once again.  ‘El, are you angry with me?  Are you pissed with me?’  He looked at her, but was not able to meet her eyes.

                The woman finished off her espresso.  ‘Of course I’m f*****g pissed with you.  How can I not be?  But what’s more, I feel sorry about you.  You knew my feelings on this before, yet you still have the gall to say what you did.  You are a f*****g sorry excuse for a man Lee.’

                The man just looked down.  He reached his hand into inner pocket, drawing out a lighter like one writes a final draft- carefully and slowly.  He twirled it around his hand, repeating the action over and over again, palming it between his hands and returning it to the back of his hand.  The woman looked away, eyeballing everyone else around her, and always returning her gaze to her wrist watch.

                Their waiter walked over.  ‘Are you two finished?’  They both nodded silently.  He took their dirty plates, and walked away.  The two of them were again left in silence.  The man whistled, but it broke down several times before he stopped. 

It was the woman who spoke up again.  Her voice was a monotone, and impassionate in every meaning of the word.  ‘Lee, I’m leaving now.  You were right, by the way.  We should never speak of this again.  In fact, we should never speak again.  I will hopefully not see you around.  You f*****g miserable little man.’  She left no money on the table as she walked out. 

The man sat in silence, looking around.  He pulled out a packet of cigarettes, before seeing a no smoking sign in the corner.  He put them back in his coat pocket, again placing a twisted look on his face.  Instead he opened and closed the lighter over and over again, lighting up a flame and shutting it up.  He stared into the flame, eyeballs following it everywhere he went.  After a while, the waiter came with the bill, and the man placed the lighter back into his pocket.

‘Your bill, sir.  Will you be paying in cash or credit?’  The waiter stood over the man, staring down at him, with no trace of humour in his face.

‘Cash.’  The man’s voice was low, yet still could be heard.  He pushed his, and the woman’s, share onto the little platter, as well as gathering the bills from the rest of the already left patrons, and placed their share on the same platter.  As well as giving a little extra for some amount of tip.

The waiter silently counted the money before giving a slight bow.  ‘Thank you, sir.  For your wonderful patronage.’  The waiter gave no sign of whether or not he had any idea about the row between the man and the woman.  He walked away, leaving the man to be surrounded by the empty table, and the last of the dirty tableware- that of the man and the woman.  The man examined the woman’s glass, staring into it, unblinkingly, before breaking off to stare at the wall elsewhere.

The man got up from his table, and walked slowly to the door.  He exited out into the cold night, and moved around to a side of the building, opening the pack of cigarettes and taking one out.  The flame danced around in the cold air, and the end of the butt light up immensely before the colour died down a slight amount.  The embers fell off the edge of his cigarette, bouncing off of his shirt before sizzling on the ground.  A quick stomp of the shoe put an end to that.

The man breathed in, allowing smoke to fill his lungs.  His exhale placed that lungful of air back into the atmosphere, returning smoke to smoke, and ashes to ashes.  He sighed.  A slight murmur exited his lips, barely making far enough to reach his own ears.  Those words were, ‘The f*****g b***h.’

Author's Note

This was a piece that I thought was weak, but a lot of the people I showed it to liked it, so I just want opinions. Constructive criticisms highly recommended.
Rated Teen for language- even though if anyone can help me understand the suggested appropriate level of language for each level, that would be much appreciated.