The Little Gingerbread Man

The warm glow of the coffee shop was unmistakable from across the darkened street. Obscured by commuters rushing to get home and out of the wet, windy Autumn evening, she could see it was quiet, the last few tables gradually emptying. After all it was 5:35pm, hardly the time for caffeine, and five minutes later than they’d arranged. She was late.

Sarah had agreed that she would meet Paul after his fifth voicemail this week. They’re breakup had been horrendous and she really wanted closure. Hopefully, the air might have cleared between them, and she thought that after three weeks apart she might be able to make it through a macchiato without screaming at him.

Three weeks since she had seen the messages on his phone. Jesus, she’d only borrowed it to call for take out. Three weeks since the last three years of her life were pretty much destroyed. He’d moved out of their apartment, probably to her house. The other woman. The other woman he had been seeing for six months behind her back. It still made her so angry to think about his betrayal. That was the last time she had seen him. Hopefully, today would be a bit calmer.

With renewed determination, fuelled in part by a desire tot get out of the cold, she stepped inside. The little bell at the top of the door jingled and she was hit by a wall of hot air. The café was lit with warm, oversized lamps, and oversized armchairs were dispersed stylishly around smooth wooden coffee tables. She glanced over and saw Paul sitting in the furthest corner, reclining in a worn leather chair. He looked tired.

Sarah pretended she hadn’t seen him, quickly turning to check her hair in the reflection of the large windows. She’d lost five pounds since their breakup and looked great, even though she felt exhausted. That was probably a result of the endless late night romcoms and tubs of Ben & Jerry’s. She never thought she would get sick of the sight of cookie dough.

As she reached the counter, the barista was clearing away a tray of sweet treats with his back turned. Sarah could see he was tall, good looking, with navy blue jeans and a classic Autumn cable knit sweater. His hair was short at the back, longer on top, light brown, with the odd fleck of grey starting to show here and there.

He turned with a smile. Sarah saw that he had a warm smile and piercing blue eyes. “What will it be on this cold evening?” She surveyed the black boards behind the counter carefully taking in the array of cappuccinos, lattes, flat whites with their various Autumn themes. “Closure, hopefully” she mumbled.

The barista’s smile grew and he replied “I can’t give you that I’m afraid, but how about a gingerbread latte? They’re new and you get a cute little gingerbread man on the side”. Sarah smiled and nodded, something to sweeten what was about to come.

After a couple of minutes, the smell of sweet gingerbread syrup, combined with the bitter hint of roasted coffee grounds drifted through the air as the barista handed her a steaming mug with a beautifully decorated little gingerbread man sitting on little red napkin on the side. She took a sip from the top. It was still too hot and burnt the back of her tongue, but silky smooth and super sweet.

Steaming mug in hand, she slowly headed towards Paul, his pale face staring at the glare of his phone, probably reading a stupid tweet or the latest meme. She never had understood his sense of humour. She took a seat opposite his, sinking into an oversized tweed armchair. He looked up, “Hey, I see they got you on the novelty drinks too”, he nodded to his own maple leaf foam decoration dismissively. She nodded courtly.

Their conversation began as Sarah had expected. The grovelling, the “I’m sorry, it’s over”, “I’ll never do it again”, and “I never meant to hurt you”. She didn’t believe any of it, and although she was devastated that he’d cheated on her and spent several weeks in a state of shock, she had finally come to the realisation that he really was a loser.

She’d been online, she’d seen the pictures, the messages, the proof that he’d been having an affair for the last 6 months. She was done. As he grovelled through his excuses, she could feel the frown lines imprinting into her expression, and her gingerbread latte getting colder. She looked down, she’d stirred her cup so much the foam had disappeared, and what had been a reassuring aroma gingerbread and cinnamon now felt sickly.  Autumn, and this conversation, were wearing thin.

Sarah had had enough. After half an hour she stood up and getting her coat said as matter of factly as she could manage, “look, Paul. I came here for answers but I don’t think you have any. I have somewhere I need to be”. She wasn’t sure why but she stuffed the uneaten gingerbread man wrapped in the napkin into her pocket and turned on her heels.

…

Across the café, the barrister had watched their conversation play out as he finished cleaning the coffee machines. He’d seen her standing in the cold before too, hesitant to come inside, her long dark hair blowing in the Autumn wind. He wondered if she’d seen the number he’d scribbled on the napkin covered by the little gingerbread man. She’d left in a hurry he would have liked to say good bye, or ask her out.

He collected the remaining cups after the last customers had left. As he headed to the table in the corner, he noticed that the napkin had gone. By 7pm he was locking up when his phone buzzed into life. A message appeared on his phone, a picture of a little gingerbread man and the words “same time again tomorrow?” Maybe he’d be able to give her closure after all.