The man thanked her, taking the cup between his hands and holding it to his mouth a moment. His glasses steamed up again, and he didn’t even seem to notice. He was too busy enjoying his drink like a man who had never seen a coffee bean before. God help whoever had to accommodate him. It wasn’t her problem though. She had the next batch to get on with and people to serve. Same as every day.
‘So, you live here year-round?’ She could feel his green eyes on her, and suddenly she found herself wishing she was more like her old self. Just for a second, she wanted to be more. She hadn’t felt like that for a long while, and it was very unsettling. I’ve been out of the race for a long time, but now, I regret that I don’t have anything to say to this man. Which is fine, because soon he’ll be gone. He’ll be gone and I’ll be back in my little flour-coated bubble. The old me would have chatted away, no paranoia about who he was. Who I was. I miss just feeling normal.
‘Yep,’ was all she said in the end. He nodded at her, but didn’t look away.
‘So, the café isn’t open year-round, right? What do you do then?’
She answered him without looking, keeping her focus on her work. If she bored him quick, he would leave quick. Worst-case scenario, she could throw a bun at him. Shut him up.
‘I read, hang out, there’s plenty of work in town, so I tend to do that. Bit of cleaning, baking gigs. I don’t need much. Hans needs a sitter here, so the rent’s pretty cheap.’
Or free, truth be told. Rebecca did pay him something each month, when he let her, but it was a token rent really. She paid her own utility and phone bills, and bought her own food, so he wasn’t fussed. She found out a while ago that she didn’t need a lot. Sometimes she looked through old bank statements to laugh at herself, and how the old Rebecca used to live. It seemed like she’d had it all at the time. How odd it is that things change so much.
The man’s nodding at me as though he’s really listening to what I’m saying. Weirdo. It’s my turn.
‘So,’ she said as cheerfully as she could, getting on with the baking, ‘what brings you here?’
I’m a supreme master at changing the subject. Especially when someone is asking about my life. I don’t tend to talk about that.
He opened his mouth to speak, to finally, hopefully tell her what he was doing there, and more importantly, when he was leaving. Rebecca held her breath as he started to speak, but the door was suddenly flung open, a blast of cold air billowing through the café from the force.
‘Good morning Alpine adventurers!’ Hans strode in, bellowing, his beard full of ice, encased in his usual Day-Glo warm weather gear. He kicked the door shut behind him, his arms full with a huge cardboard box. He came over to the counter, nodding and saying hello to customers as he went. Leaning forward to look at Rebecca’s handiwork, he took a deep sniff.
‘Nice,’ he said jovially, his iced eyebrow raised in her direction. ‘Croissant Death Day rolls around once more.’
‘Yep,’ she agreed, trying not to grin at him. This was what she’d been waiting for. After all, what made a girl feel better more than taking the mick out of her friends? ‘I just wanted to mark the day, you know, so you wouldn’t forget.’
‘I’ll never forget what day it is.’ He nodded to the calendar, his face grave. ‘The follicles on my forearms still scream when you get near.’ Rebecca chuckled, making Hans cover his arms in reflex.
‘I know, I know. Your arm hair’s safe. Newbie error. The treats will be worth the trauma.’
He came around the side of the counter and dropped the box at her feet, and then his gaze slid to the man in the corner. He banged his hand on the counter hard, making a couple of the customers jump.
‘Luke! Luke! My friend! You came! I can’t believe it!’ Rebecca was looking at the door, at the diners, wondering who Luke was and why Hans was so excited. He was a bounding puppy on his lowest days, so this was extra-excitable behaviour.
‘Can you believe this, Becca? Luke!’ Hans tapped her on the arm excitedly, before striding back over to the man he called Luke. The very man Rebecca herself had been obsessing over all morning. He grabbed him in a big hug, lifting him clean off his feet. Luke was quite a tall lad, but Hans was a huge, craggy rock face of a man. The first time Rebecca had met him, she’d half expected a Sherpa to be herding goats across his back.
‘Hans, dude, have you been eating ski lifts or something? Jesus, you’re bigger than the mountains!’ Luke, aka Mr Scruffy, was perched in his arms like a giddy puppy, his gangly legs dangling down. Hans just clung on for dear life, laughing his head off. It was like watching a bear hugging a salmon. A rather gleeful salmon, that seemed happy to be caught. And, in the right light, Luke did have a rather Clark-Kent-cum-Superman thing going on about him.
