A Clean, Well-Lit Café

It was only eight in the evening, but the number of customers within the little cafe had already begun to dwindle. The mahogany tables harbored mostly lone diners, mostly sleepy office employees working the night shift. The forlorn, unattached men and women in the cafe paid tribute to that day, a day dedicated to the patron saint of lovers, by eating their dinners alone. Two waiters in their aprons busied themselves behind the open-top counter, preparing for the cafe’s routine opening next day.

The younger waiter wiped his wet hands on his apron. He turned his gaze towards the nearest table from the counter. The occupied table there stood apart from its brothers, distinguished from the rest because it occupied the lone couple within the cafe. The young man and woman who occupied the table sat facing each other, with a slim bouquet of a dozen white roses and the remnants of their small repast before them.

The older waiter noticed his assistant’s sudden hiatus from work. “Mike, help me with these.” The younger waiter began taking the coffee glasses out of the half-filled rinsing sink.

“They’re having an affair, Sean.” Mike softly mumbled, without lifting his eyes off the watery wash basin.

“Who’s having an affair?”

“That couple over there.” Mike gestured towards the specific table with a quick tilt of his head. “They are having a date on Valentine’s Day.”

Sean stole a quick glance at the couple. “They’re not even talking.”

“She has a wedding ring. He doesn’t.”

“They’re friends.”

Mike shook his head. “No, just look at their eyes.”

“What do you know?”

“I know.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day. She’s supposed to be with her husband.”

“Her husband might be working overtime somewhere.”

“They’re not even holding hands.”

“You can love without holding hands.”

Sean continued to watch the couple as his seasoned fingertips caressed a tight roll of crisp bills. For him, the size of the roll left much to be desired. “We shouldn’t have opened this holiday. There are too few customers.” Mike nodded in response.

The young woman looked tired. She spoke softly to her handsome escort, her words inaudible to the two waiters at the counter. Her lover’s previously satisfied appearance assumed an abrupt look of baffled frustration, and her long, slender fingers slowly closed themselves over the simple bouquet. He said something in reply, which the young woman turned down with a delicate shake of her head.

“Everybody’s either watching movies or in fancy restaurants,” Sean added. “The men are taking their wives and girlfriends to some hotel so they can fuck.”

“Some men are single, Sean.”

“This is not a good place to stop by on Valentine’s Day. You can’t fuck here.”

“It’s a great place if you want to meet someone in secret. No people.”

“She must have picked him up from somewhere.”

“He’s not. He has roses.”

“Stupid oversexed bitch.” Sean growled.

“Don’t say that. That’s mean, Sean.”

“Her husband must have a really small dick.”

Mike stopped, with his hands halfway dipped into the rinsing sink. “Adultery’s not just about sex, Sean. It’s about love.”

“Men shouldn’t go fucking other men’s wives when they’re horny.”

“Maybe he’s not after the sex. Maybe he loves her.”

“Maybe he can’t afford a whore.”

The young woman let go of the bouquet and stood up. His nervous hand sought hers, and their fingers gently intertwined as she stared into at his captivated eyes. She gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead before she started walking out towards the decorated cafe doors. She left in a hurry, leaving the young man still seated, with his deep, contemplative gaze still rooted upon the bouquet in front of him.

Mike finished replacing the tall and short glasses in their respective trays. He wiped his hands on his already wet apron. “Illicit trysts usually don’t happen on holidays, Sean. He has no right to have a date with her. She has a family to attend to during the holidays.”

“He’s stupid. There are many single women out there.”

“He must have spent a month’s wages for those roses. He’s brave.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He probably waited several weeks just so that he can see her again.”

“Why would he wait?”

“I don’t know. Her husband, her kids ... she’s busy taking care of them. There are so many things.”

“She has kids?”

“I don’t know either. That man will probably have to wait a few more weeks before they can meet again. He’ll be lonely.”

“It’s his fault.”

Mike gingerly cast another glance at the young man. The lonely customer sat, unmoving, his head bowed down in the classic portrayal of dejection and melancholy.

“His eyes are so sad,” he observed. “He’s lonely and unhappy.”

“We ran out of hazelnut. You must buy some tomorrow.” Sean set aside a few bills from the roll he held. He slid them across the countertop, folded. Mike took the money and placed it in his pocket.

“He’s sad because she can never take the roses, anyway. Her husband will ask.”

“Let him be, Mike.”

Mike faced his partner and asked, “Say, may I go over there for a minute?”

“Why?”

“I just want to cheer him up.”

Sean shrugged. “It’s your life.”

“Ok.” Mike exited the counter and headed for the young man’s table.

Sean watched as Mike took a seat beside their despondent customer. He couldn’t hear what they talked about; he only noticed that something, which Mike said, gave the young man a pensive smile and lightened his otherwise downcast demeanor. Mike returned to the counter a few moments later, satisfied to some degree.

The young man stood up shortly afterwards, leaving the bouquet on the table. He headed for the cafe door, burying his left hand in his khaki pants pocket. His broad shoulders still hung heavily in his dejection, and his formal leather shoes squeaked as they shuffled over the newly waxed floor.

“What did you tell him?” Sean asked. He and Mike pulled the long window shades down. The cafe had been empty for over an hour already, and they spent the rest of the time cleaning up to close the cafe for the night. The counter was now clear and the chairs were now on the tabletops, upturned on their seats.

“Who?”

“That lover boy a while ago. You made him smile.”

“Oh.” Sean’s interest surprised Mike somewhat. “I told him what he wanted to hear.”

“That his girlfriend liked his big dick?”

“No.” Mike paused for a brief moment as he tried to recall what he said. “I told him that love will triumph in the end, that he shouldn’t lose hope, no matter how hard it is to love.”

“He’s young. He’ll find more women. He’ll find single women.”

“The choice had already been made, Sean.”

Sean remembered the remnants of the bouquet that they dumped in the trash bin. “Those flowers are a waste. He’s such an idiot.”

“At least he told her that he loved her by buying those roses.”

“It’s a waste of money. I’d never buy flowers for my wife.”

Mike replaced his damp apron with the black leather jacket he brought earlier that day. “Maybe you should, Sean. It’s just another way of telling her that you love her.”

“We’ve been married for too long. Valentine’s Day isn’t the same anymore.”

“Maybe she still wants someone to tell her how much he loves her. It won’t hurt to try.”

Sean paused before the switches for the ceiling fans. “Maybe. Who knows?”

“Buy her yellow roses. It’s her favorite.”

“Really?” Sean turned to his partner, who returned his questioning stare. “All these years and I didn’t know.”

“Just ask her.”

“Bah,” Sean dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “You go and buy flowers for your own girlfriend. When you get married, you’ll understand. I’ve been there, done that.”

Mike shrugged.

“You’re young,” Sean carried on, as he proceeded to switch off the lights within the cafe one by one. “Take the opportunity to enjoy life while you’re still not married. When you get married, everything changes.” He paused. “You never talk about your girlfriend, though.”

Mike gave a weak smile. “I tried roses last year. Didn’t work either.”

“She didn’t like them, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is she, anyway?”

Mike hesitated a while before he replied. “With her family, I guess.”

A cold breeze greeted them as they stepped outside the closed cafe. Sean turned the rusty key to lock the door and turned to his friend. “Good night.”

“Good night,” said Mike. They walked off in opposite directions on the dark, nearly deserted sidewalk.

Mike fished for a menthol cigarette in his jacket pockets. He let his lighter’s flame lick the end of the stick as he slowly inhaled. He hadn’t taken his nicotine fix all afternoon, and his lungs craved for the relaxation that his vice provided. He continued walking down the garbage-strewn street, with only the flickering street lamps and strong headlights from the passing late night vehicles to light his way. He tightened his jacket around his shoulders as protection against the biting chill.

It’s not just about sex, he thought. It’s about love. It’s about cooking her dinner when she’s sick and her husband’s not there for her because he’s working overtime. It’s about asking for her consent before having sex instead of simply taking her, the way her husband does. It’s about telling her that that she is loved, again and again, ceaselessly, even though it gets tiring and troublesome after the relationship has gone on for a long time.

Mike buried his left hand in his pants pocket, keeping it warm against the cold evening air. He wished that he could hold his girlfriend’s hand, but he knew that he had no right to do so on a holiday, especially on Valentine’s Day. His lean shoulders hung heavily as he walked, and his shoes scraped the concrete as they shuffled over the dirty pavement.

Finis

A Clean, Well-Lit Café

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