Chocolate Bliss

“See! I told you! The first Wednesday of every month she comes in at pre-cise-ly 2:30. She’s done this for as long as I’ve worked here, and that's three years!”

“I wonder why? What’s her name, her story?”

“No clue.”

“All this time and you haven’t asked her?”

“Why would I? I mean, look at her. She’s weird. It’s weird.”

It’s Jessica’s first week working at Gâteau. The woman who has quietly seated herself in the back corner booth reminds her of her favorite aunt when she was a girl. Aunt Liezel was eccentric; jet black hair in her seventies, garish red lipstick and the thickest black owl frame glasses she had ever seen. Aunt Liezel was an “Artiste”, or she had been when she danced.

This woman is more subdued but definitely an artist-type, Jessica surmises. She has flowing silver hair hanging loosely down the back of her rose-pink, tailored jacket. Darker pink ankle boots accentuate the jacket. Otherwise, her petite frame is draped entirely in black; wool, slim cut pants and a turtleneck. Her striking face defies aging hands which suggest that she is likely in her seventies. Jessica is obsessed with hands.

The booth where she is sitting is in Shelby’s section.

“Would you mind if I waited her table?” Jessica surprises herself, blurting this aloud. She feels compelled to meet this woman but doesn’t want Shelby to mock her curiosity. Shelby mocks everything.

“Be my guest. She’s going to order Jasmine tea and a slice of Chocolate Bliss. Always the same.” Shelby rolls her expertly kohl lined, thick lashed, stunning blue eyes and purses her lips.

“Good afternoon.” Jessica’s voice quivers a little, betraying her assumed air de confiance in this charming French-inspired café. “Would you like a menu?”

The woman has a soft, warm laugh. She startles Jessica with her bold but approving gaze. “You’re new. No menu, dear. A pot of Jasmine tea and a slice of Chocolate Bliss.” The “please” is somehow implied.

When Jessica is back behind the counter, she sees that Shelby has already put a slice of cake on a white plate and drizzled it with raspberry sauce and she’s pouring steaming water into a white ceramic tea pot. “Am I right?”

Jessica smooths her burgundy apron and checks that no loose hairs have escaped her hair elastic before bringing this woman she finds so enchanting her tea and cake. She’s barely taken her hand off the table when the woman says, “Thank you, dear. I’d appreciate not being interrupted for the next half hour, please. Then you may bring me my bill.”

Jessica can’t help but watch this enigmatic woman sip her tea and put small pieces of chocolate cake onto her fork with an air of sophistication. She’s careful to dab the corner of her mouth after each bite and never looks up from the table. She seems deep in thought, reverent almost. Jessica has the impression that this afternoon tea is a ritual of some sort. Her trance-like absorption watching this woman is broken when, at precisely 3:00, she looks at Jessica directly and expectantly.

“Oh, the bill.” Jessica almost snaps to attention and is hoping the woman pays with a credit card so she can discretely learn her name.

Having no apparent time for formality, the woman stands exactly the moment Jessica turns to return to the counter, leaves a twenty dollar bill on the bill tray and walks out of the café without a word. Jessica is startled by her bruskness but notices, relieved, that the woman has a serene smile on her face as she leaves.

Jessica has taken this job at Gâteau to help her pay for art supplies. She thought she wouldn’t have to work until spring when she learned she’d won a full tuition scholarship for her first year at The Institute of Art and Design, but she hadn’t taken into account how much living away from home would be, not to mention the cost of art supplies and going to galleries. If she just stuck with assignment basics and went to galleries less often like her classmates, she’d be fine but she is always so inspired by new works and keen to experiment with new techniques as she learns them. She’s become a regular at Art’s Art Shack, the campus art supply store. In fact, she'll be stopping there again after today’s shift for more brushes.

She thought working at the café would be an ideal fit since Gâteau showcases local artist’s work throughout the cafe. One of her instructors has several pieces on display here this month. Jessica learned of the job when she helped her hang the paintings here a couple of weeks ago. It was disappointing to learn her first day that Shelby has zero appreciation for graphic art. She’s told Jessica that she works here because the tips are good not because she likes the décor. Shelby is an excellent barista and has a lovely demeanour with the patrons but Jessica is shocked by her contemptuous attitude behind the counter, especially when it comes to art and artists. Jessica hasn’t shared much about herself with Shelby.

She gathers handbills advertising upcoming art exhibitions from the notice board on her way out of Art’s. The dates on these handbills are the mainstay of her social calendar. She attaches them to the side of her fridge in date order – most recent to current to upcoming exhibitions on the top, working down. They’re a lovely splash of colour in her otherwise barren kitchen.

It’s a hectic couple of weeks before she has time and space to breathe again. Her mid-term portfolio was submitted this morning and she doesn’t work at the café again until Monday. A free weekend means catch up and going to galleries! She flips through her collection of handbills and sees there’s an opening tonight at the city’s public art gallery for a local artist who’s work she’s not familiar with, Elaine Cirillo. “Must be someone important if she’s showing at the city gallery,” she muses.

Gallery openings often mean rubbing elbows with the art community’s who’s who. She hopes the who’s who have started to notice her at these events but not enough to realize that she only has two outfits worthy of being seen in at these openings. “Canvas or a new skirt? Brushes or new shoes? Gesso or …?” She enjoys teasing herself, only half concerned about the impression her appearance makes. She believes that an artist’s work should speak for itself.

Jessica is pleased to see two of her instructors when she arrives at the gallery. “This is a good sign,” she thinks. She’s not too concerned about socializing and is anxious to see the art on display so heads straight to the hall where Elaine Cirillo’s work is presented.

Large swirls of raspberry pink letters edged in dark brown and shadowed with white greet her eager eyes as she enters the room, “Chocolate Bliss”.

The exhibit’s title only strikes her core as she reads the collection description mounted at the start of the clockwise focused display: Chocolate Bliss is a decadently delicious cake served at my café, Gâteau. Once each month for the past three and a half years I have been visiting the café incognito and enjoying a slice of bliss with tea. Each of these 40 paintings represent one visit to the café and encapsulates my fantasies or impressions during that time.

Jessica realizes she’s connected to this project – “and the artist herself!” – in a way, a very small way, she could never have imagined. She marvels at how distinct each 20 x 20” canvas is in style and subject and laughs aloud when she comes to number 18, "SHELBY". The painting is of one gorgeous blue Egyptian eye behind a yellow, netted pillbox hat perched at a jaunty angle atop a peacock. “Perfect,” she chuckles in irreverent appreciation of the caricature.

Number 20, by contrast, is called "MISSING YIANNIS" and shows steam rising from a white mug set in front of the empty seat of a booth Jessica knows all too well. The deep sense of loss expressed in the solitary image moves her deeply.

Just over an hour has elapsed when Jessica reaches the final image, "JESS YOU WAIT!" A serving tray with a palette of smeared paints sits in the center of the familiar booth’s table, the edges beyond the table suggesting a blank canvas. Jessica wipes silent tears from her cheeks wondering, “how did she know? She only saw me once, two weeks ago!” She then realizes that this painting is number 41 and is hung a little further apart from the others, near the artist’s biography.

Elaine Cirillo (b. 1943) was a member of the first graduating class at The Institute of Art and Design in 1965 where she then taught Fine Art until her retirement in 2006. She remains active on the institute’s Board of Directors and is chair of the institute’s scholarship committee … Her husband, Yannis Cirillo, was a business developer and well-loved patron of the arts. He bought Elaine a small café in honour of her retirement where she continues to show her support for up-coming artists in the community …

When Jessica arrives at Gâteau on Monday afternoon she is overcome with gratitude for serendipitously becoming a part of the café's connection to art history in the community. Shelby is amused by the enthusiasm Jessica demonstrates when describing paintings hung in the café to inquiring patrons. Shelby simply hands the leaflets to those who ask about the art without a word.

On the first Wednesday of Jessica’s second month at the café, Shelby watches the large clock above the door and just before 2:30 quietly counts, “five, four, three, two, one.” The door remains closed. She checks her phone to be sure the clock is accurate and dramatically bugs out her eyes and points at Jessica accusingly. “She’s not here! What did you do to her last time?”

Jessica laughs and stops herself from skipping to the back booth where she removes the crude “RESERVED” sign Shelby always set on the table each Wednesday when the café opens.

“I guess we’ll never know,” she sighs in mock dismay.