Tea For Two

Prior to the quarantine and lockdown, you could tell where the cafes were in the old part of town just by listening. They were usually crowded on Saturday afternoons and evenings. Plenty of people enjoying being outside together, drinking coffee or tea or wine, and talking about all sorts of things. But now the cafes were mostly empty, the waiters and waitresses looking hopefully along the sidewalk outside for possible customers.

Even my favorite cafe near the waterfront looked more like a ghost town. It was hard to believe that it was the same place that was buzzing with business the week before Christmas, decorated with lights, ribbons and bows, and mocked-up presents under Christmas trees. But now in August it just looked … for lack of a better term … dead. Even the seagulls that normally perched wherever they could, ready to pounce on any dropped food, were missing.

Francois, who had relocated from Montreal a dozen years ago, was leaning against the cafe's doorway. He saw me and waved halfheartedly. Like myself, he was wearing a mask, covering his nose and mouth. I couldn't see his sister Danielle. Maybe she was inside.

“Good evening,” I said, shaking Francois' hand.

“Bon soir, mon ami,” he said. “I am sorry that you must see what businesses like ours have sadly become during this pandemic. Another week of this, and we might have to consider closing, if only temporarily.”

“That bad?” I asked, trying not to stare at him.

Francois nodded. “We have even lost some of our own to the virus, Elias.”

“I'm very sorry to hear that,” I said.

“One of the cooks … and my sister,” he said softly. I thought I saw tears on his face, something I rarely saw there.

“Danielle?” I asked in disbelief. That bright, friendly face, always ready with a joke to cheer me up on a bad day … gone? Had the entire world gone crazy? Perhaps it had.

“Oui,” he said, looking down at his feet. “Her funeral was yesterday. She said she wasn't feeling well for the past week, and we thought it was either allergies or maybe the flu. I drove her to the hospital to have her tested. The results came back … positive. The virus did not take long. The morning of the day she died, she woke up at her normal time, but started coughing more than usual. The doctor at the hospital had told us what to do and we did not hesitate. We checked her temperature. Fever. She looked at me and all I could do was nod. She started crying. I put my arms around her, held her close. How long did she have, we did not know. Not long. It was less than we expected. She did not eat much that morning, or for lunch, or for dinner. She said that she was very tired. I helped her to her bed, put her in a comfortable position, pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. She thanked me and I kissed her forehead. At the bedroom door, I turned to look at her. She seemed to be asleep already. I turned off the lights and closed the door. When I came back an hour later to check on her. She wasn't breathing. There was a smile on her lips, though, so I knew she was at peace. No more suffering.”

I just stood there, feeling like I was in some sort of bad dream. A bad dream I would wake up from and everything would be back to normal. Only it wasn't a bad dream, it was reality.

Francois sighed, then looked at me. “If you would like something to drink or eat, the kitchen is open. Tea first, perhaps?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Where would you like to sit?” he asked. “There are, of course, plenty of choices either out here or inside.”

“Out here, please,” I said.

Francois nodded and led me to a table near the exterior wall of the cafe. There was a long bench that ran along the wall, and I sat down on it. He brought a vase with flowers and a menu from a nearby table, and then went inside the cafe.

I just looked numbly at the menu, not quite seeing it.

Danielle. The first victim of the virus that I knew personally. A wonderful person. Bubbling personality that smiled and laughed easily. She was like a sister to me, and one of the main reasons I enjoyed being at this cafe more than any of the others. And now she was gone.

If only I had come back to this cafe sooner. But I had so much remote work to do at home. I simply couldn't have spared the free time until today. I would've tried to go to her funeral, had I only known.

Of all people to die from the virus, why did it have to be Danielle? So many terrible people in the world, and it takes the one person who seemed more like an angel to me than any other.

Francois brought me a pot of hot tea, a teacup, and a saucer. I thanked him. He was about to ask what I food I wanted to order when we both heard the rumble of thunder. We both looked up and saw that what had been a sunny blue sky was now overcast and quickly darkening. Francois let me help him pull out the temporary roof and then unrolled the temporary wall that protected the outside tables and chairs.

“If you would rather sit at a table inside?” he offered.

I shook my head. “I don't mind. I've been inside for so many weeks now that it's worth getting a little wet.”

“You might get more than a little wet,” he said.

“I'll be fine,” I said, and looked through the menu. I ordered an omelette and a salad. Nothing fancy.

Francois nodded, accepted the menu from me, and went back inside the cafe.

Thunder was abruptly replaced by a heavy downpour. And here I was without either a raincoat or an umbrella. I reminded myself not only to check the weather report before going outside but also to bring at least an umbrella along, if nothing else. Still, with any luck, maybe the rain would stop after I finished my meal. One could hope.

I heard the sound of a cab stopping somewhere outside the temporary walls of the cafe. Someone must've almost missed their destination, from the sounds of it. Better hurry, I told the unknown fare, or you're going to get drenched. Mother Nature isn't fussy about who she gets wet.

“Honestly!” a woman's voice said, muffled by a mask and yet still easily carrying from the one doorway in the temporary wall. I saw a tall woman in a raincoat, long dark hair lying on its backside, soaked. She was trying to shake the rain off of her hands and then did the same to her purse. “Of all the things to forget, I had to forget my umbrella.”

She sighed, then looked up and saw me looking at her. At first she looked a little embarrassed that someone had heard what she'd said. But then she shrugged and walked over to my table. She pulled a chair away from the opposite side, laid her purse on the table, and sat down. Blue eyes looked at me from above her mask. I couldn't be sure if she was uncertain or curious, or maybe both.

“I hope you don't mind,” she said. “I don't usually like to sit alone, or eat alone, for that matter.”

“I don't mind,” I said. “If you want, I have enough tea here for two. But you'll have to ask Francois for a teacup and saucer of your own.”

She looked mildly puzzled. “And who is Francois?”

“One of the waiters who works here,” I said. “We're old friends.”

Francois came outside with my omelette and salad, and then saw that I had company. He walked over to our table.

He served me and then added, “You did not say that you were expecting company, mon ami.”

“Because I wasn't,” I said. “Otherwise, I would've told you.”

He accepted my explanation with a nod, and then looked at the woman. “If you wish, madame, I can loan you a towel to dry off your hair.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Will you also be ordering anything?” he asked her.

“A teacup and saucer,” she said. “We'll be sharing the tea.”

He nodded, and went back inside the cafe, to get her a towel.

“I must look like a drowned rat,” she said to me.

“Not a rat,” I said. “More like a wet cat or puppy.” I found myself fighting the urge to stare at her. I had never seen such a beautiful woman before. Surely she must know that she was beautiful, but she acted like she was just a normal person; nothing unusual about her appearance. “I'm sorry,” I said, and looked at the flowers in their vase at the table's center. “I didn't mean to be rude.”

“Perhaps it would be better if we introduced ourselves,” she suggested. “Would you like to go first?”

“I thought it was ladies first, then gentlemen,” I said.

She didn't quite smile. “I didn't expect you to be so old-fashioned. All right. My name is Samantha Bradford. My friends call me 'Sam'.” She gestured at me. “Your turn.”

“Elias Moreno,” I said. “My friends call me 'Elias'.”

Francois returned with the towel and politely handed it to Samantha. “If you are ready, I can take your order.”

She gave her hair a thorough drying first. Instead of looking flat and dull, it now looked like she'd been playing around with static electricity. She wrung out the towel, folded it, and laid it on the tabletop. Then she took a brush out of her purse, and while she brushed her hair, she looked at what I had.

“Could I order what he's having?” she asked Francois.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Anything else, madame?”

She shook her head.

He inclined his head to her and went back inside the cafe.

“I like it here,” Samantha told me as she finished brushing her hair, put the brush back in her purse, and took off her coat. Her coat was still dripping from its bottom edges. She squeezed out as much water out of it as she could, then folded it in half and hung it from the back of her chair. “In case you're wondering, I don't normally do this when I first meet a man.”

“I don't mind,” I said.

“And if it's not being overly nosy, how often do you come here?” she asked.

“Not as often as I'd like,” I said. “It's been awhile since my last time.”

“It's my first time,” she said. “If it wasn't for the rain, I would never have taken shelter here.”

“And we wouldn't have met,” I said.

“Something to be said for rainstorms, then,” she said. “Maybe I should go out in the rain more often.”

“Don't forget your umbrella,” I reminded her.

She smiled. Despite its brevity, it managed to light up her face more than her previous smiles had.

Then she leaned forward, forearms making an “A” shape on the tabletop, hands clasped and her chin resting on them. “Something's bothering you, Elias.” It was the first time she'd called me by my first name. It sounded better in her voice, I thought, than in mine. “I can tell. Care to discuss it, or not?”

My dating experience, infrequent as it was, didn't seem to include how to interact with a woman like her. Especially not a woman I'd only just met minutes before. A woman who wasn't afraid to follow her curiosity wherever it might lead. Was she a psychologist or psychoanalyst?

“I'm not used to losing people that I know to the virus,” I said.

“Your first time?” Samantha asked.

I nodded. “Has it happened to you yet?”

“Thankfully, no,” she said. “But one never knows.”

How true.

We looked at each other intently, until Francois returned with her omelette, salad, teacup, and saucer.

“Thank you,” Samantha told him.

He inclined his head briefly and went back inside the cafe.

“It's nice that they leave you alone here,” she said as she began to eat. “Some places seem to think that if they don't keep asking, they aren't doing their job.”

I began to eat as well. “Another reason why I like this cafe.”

“Do you usually eat here alone?” she asked.

I nodded.

“And yet you didn't seem to mind my inviting myself to join you at your table,” she went on.

“I didn't want to eat alone tonight,” I said. “Not after learning that Francois' sister died from the virus. I'm not sure if I was hoping to meet someone like you, but –”

“But now that you have?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

“It's nicer having someone to talk with, than eating alone,” I said.

“I've always thought so,” Samantha said, laughing softly.

I looked at her. “What's so funny?”

“I've never met an introvert before,” she said. “Had I known that they were so interesting, I wouldn't have wasted my time with extroverts.”

“Sounds like you wasted a lot time that way,” I said.

She nodded soberly. “Too much time. I just didn't know that there was anyone in the world like you … until today.”

We were both long since done with our omelettes and salads, and the teapot was almost empty. It was still raining, but less than it had been earlier. With any luck, the rain might end by the time I paid Francois for our food and tea. But then what?

“I was wondering … maybe we could go for a walk along the waterfront?” she suggested. “After the rain stops, I mean.”

“I'd like that,” I said.

Samantha gave me the warmest smile I'd seen her give. “So would I.”

I paid the bill, adding a slightly larger tip than usual. Francois thanked me with a brief wink, accepted the still-damp towel, and wished us a pleasant evening.

Samantha put her raincoat back on, and we went to investigate whether the rain had stopped for the time being. It had. The sidewalk was still dark from the rain, and the street was wet and shiny in the light of the streetlights and neon signs on the buildings around us. There weren't any big puddles to avoid, thank goodness.

The waterfront was just a couple blocks away. We could see the nearby marina to our left, where boats of all shapes and sizes were moored. Some were dark, while others were lit both in their cabins and at the top of their masts. Further out, we could see where the bigger boats were moored. Along the waterfront was a wooden boardwalk with a waist-high wooden railing on both sides. There were very few people on it, and they were keeping their social distance from one another. We couldn't tell if they were wearing masks or not, but we hoped they were.

Samantha seemed to have a little trouble climbing the wooden steps to the boardwalk, so I held one her hands and she placed the other hand on the railing. However, when we reached the boardwalk, she didn't seem interested in letting go of my hand. Not that I minded, because I realized I was enjoying the warmth and strength of her hand.

“I'm not sure when we'll be able to do this again,” she said. “What with the quarantine and lockdown.”

“I can understand the mayor's position,” I said. “She wants to keep the virus from spreading. The more people don't gather in public places, the less likely it will spread. Enough people have died from it, after all.”

She nodded. “I just wish there were some way to enjoy doing things like this without risking exposure to the virus.”

“The pandemic won't last forever, Sam,” I said.

We stopped, and she turned to look at me, with surprise in her eyes.

“You called me Sam,” she said.

“You did say that your friends called you that,” I said. “I do hope we're friends by now.”

Samantha smiled with her eyes and pulled me closer to her. “Maybe more than friends.”

We put our arms around each other. It seemed a bit weird at first, since we were wearing masks, which would make some things a little bit difficult to do. Rather like an abbreviated version of the burkas that some Muslim women wore. Since you couldn't see anything but the eyes, the eyes were almost hypnotic as they did more than they usually did.

“Maybe just this once we can pull the masks out of the way?” she asked.

“There's no one else near us,” I said. “Why not?”

We pulled our masks down to our chins.

“I've been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you at the cafe,” Samantha said. She leaned in, closed her eyes, and kissed me on the lips. As she did so, I also closed my eyes. Her lips were soft and warm. Like the tea we'd shared at the cafe.

When the kiss ended, we opened our eyes. We were both smiling.

“I think I'm going to enjoy getting to know you better, Elias,” she said.

“Likewise, Sam,” I said, and we kissed again.