“You live on the other side of the cemetery? That’s beautiful” he said, taking off his glasses so he could look in her eyes properly. She set down her coffee and smiled at him. She hadn’t really meant anything by it but there was something quite interesting about her sentence. When she considered it again she thought it sounded like the name of a Smiths song, or maybe a line from a quaint English period drama. She kept her eyes steady as he looked at her, taking in her features properly. She hadn’t felt anyone looking at her as closely as he was in a long time. Not in a threatening or lecherous way, more in a curious and considerate way. He was looking at the way her mouth turned up at one side when she got self-conscious, at the way she tucked the hair behind her ears even when it wasn’t falling across her face.
“It would be better for me if I were brave enough to walk through the cemetery to come to the cafe, but I’m too scared so it takes me about 20 minutes longer than it should” she admitted.
“Why are you too scared?” he queried.
“Well, it’s a cemetery, I’m scared of ghosts and cemeteries are where ghosts live. Or at least where they get started” she said, blushing as she felt his eyes consider her again.
She wasn’t used to people looking at her properly. She never bothered looking if they were, truth be told, but just always just presumed they weren’t, so when she watched him looking at her it was strange to her that she should enjoy it. She smiled at him.
“It’s not every day you get a grown up woman admit that she’s afraid of ghosts” he said, picking up his cup again and taking another sip.
“Well there’s your first problem right there, I’m no grown up woman. I’m just a girl who has been alive for long than other young girls” she blurted out.
He waited a few seconds before responding. She’d looked away very quickly after she’d spoken. She looked out the window onto the car park. The cars lined up next to one another changed very quickly in this area. A red station wagon was pulling into the spot left by the black shiny four-wheel drive which had just pulled away, carrying with it the bejewelled soccer mother with her skinny latte.
She tried to distract herself from the fact she knew he was watching her again with looking at the number-plate of the new car. It was an Albany licence plate; she knew that from the capital A before the numbers, not too old, probably a few years....she had to look back. He was looking at her again in that same inquisitive and soft way. She shrugged, took a deep breath and then decided to really look at him properly.
His grey shirt looked worn but well-lived in, like he’d pulled it out of the bottom of his suitcase that morning, which when she thought about it, he probably had. He seemed like one of those people who truly lived ‘day-to-day’, like every morning was another adventure, but not an adventure that you had to be dressed up for. But that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t distinguished. His brown hair flopped in his eyes, peppered with grey which she thought made him look a tiny bit older than he should. He could only be late 30’s at the oldest but the way he held himself suggested more than just years had passed under his nose. His arms looked strong and his sleeves pushed up above his elbows hinted at a line of light coloured hair which came down his forearms. He wore a silver watch on his right hand, which she noted was strange because he was right handed. He reached into his pocket and she presumed he would be reaching for another cigarette, but this time he pulled out a pencil.
She hated how people like this, people she knew next to nothing about. How could they be so much cooler than she could ever hope to be? But this person wasn’t aware of his cool. He just seemed interested in her. She was scared to ask him if she could take out her notepad and jot some ideas down, not because she thought he would be offended, rather she didn’t want to ruin the running time of their conversation. Although it had been fairly stilted and so far it had basically just been her answering his questions she didn’t want him to think her mind was elsewhere.
“Why do you like coming here?” he asked.
“Well you’ve had the coffee, it’s the best in town!” she said smiling.
“Yes, but surely a good coffee is not worth walking past somewhere that frightens you. There must be another reason for coming to this particular cafe”.
There absolutely was, but she wasn’t going to tell him about it. The reason walked around the corner at that very moment and before she could have time to hide her blush, her new friend had seen it and seen her eyes dart down to her lap.
“Well that answers my question nicely” he said, watching the reason walk behind the counter and place the cups he’d picked up one by one into the washing machine.
She sighed; it felt all the more pathetic now someone else was in on it. She’d been coming back to the cafe, not just for the amazing coffee, for at least a month now, three or four times a week, just to catch a glimpse of the reason. She was invisible to the reason though. She had no doubt that he was a lot of girl’s reason for coming to this particular, irritatingly located cafe.
“Its nothing” she said, looking intensely at the sugar granules she was pushing around her saucer.
“Well he doesn’t look like nothing” he said smiling, watching her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
“Why don’t you talk to him?”
“Because it would be a waste of his time, my time and the air I breathe to do that. What am I going to say? Hi, sorry you won’t have noticed but I come in a lot to stare at you? Yeah great first line. I’m happy in my own comfortable denial thanks.”
“That’s not good enough. What’s the point of coming in all week and torturing yourself?”
“It’s not torture. It would be torture if I ever thought something was possible, but it’s not. This is just the cheap thrill of being near someone that lovely. I don’t need to speak to him..."
He got up before she could finish her sentence and went to order another round of coffees. She felt a pang of nervousness when he pointed directly at their table when he spoke to the boy at the counter. As she watched him, the reason passed by the till and for the first time their eyes met. She managed a slight smile as he looked at her. Her new friend walked back to the table with a big grin on his face.
“The guy at the counter asked for your name. Apparently you’re in here all the time and one of the boys who works here has a thing for you.”
The reason took off his apron behind the counter and picked up his wallet and phone, done for the day. He said goodbye to the barista, the boy at the counter and walked around the side to leave. She watched him do his end-of-shift routine and wondered where he was heading to next. As he passed their table he seemed to pause ever so slightly. She only noticed because she was watching his shoes and saw the perfect pattern of their step go out of time. He turned towards their table and it wasn’t until she heard his voice say her name that she looked up and into his eyes again.
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