Pre-Cardiac-Arrest Breakfast

I have visited Tabby’s Café every morning for the last fifty years; I met my wife there. She worked as a barista, and I would order coffee from her every day until I mustered up the nerve to ask her out. After a decade, we were married, and she quit her job to become a music teacher; throughout her career, we returned to Tabby’s and ordered our regular pre-work breakfast. A black coffee each, with a slice of chocolate cake, divvied up between us. As soon as it hit 8.15am, she would dash a kiss across my cheek and run to school.

We were both musicians, I played the guitar, and she played everything else. We would drive around the world in our campervan during the summer holidays, busking simply because we loved it. We always managed to find a café wherever we had what we called our pre-vacation-day breakfast; an orange juice each, with a slice of chocolate cake. Sounds strange, but it certainly filled us with energy! We shared a sweet tooth and forty wonderful years together; such a short time.

I have been piecing my life back together since she passed last summer. It’s spring now. A grief counsellor taught me how comforting it was to return to Tabby’s and continue enjoying our breakfast. It wasn’t a pre-work breakfast anymore since I was retired, so I called it my ‘pre-cardiac-arrest’ breakfast from all the caffeine and sugar. At 79, I was feeling closer to death, but I wasn’t scared.

On the contrary, I didn’t care. I could die tomorrow, and I’d be fine with it! I’ve lived a happy life. We had no children, and we loved every minute of it. Now I find myself alone, waiting to die. And that’s okay. I’ll continue to plod along, enjoying my comforts until I park my clogs. As long as I can spend each morning at Tabby’s with my pre-cardiac-arrest breakfast, I’ll be content.

I have come to know the baristas who work here after they noticed my wife was no longer with me. I get on rather well with this one young lady named Eliza, a chirpy little thing. She opens up the café on the weekdays and always makes sure I have the first slice of a fresh cake. She even started placing a reserved sign on the table by the window my wife and I would always sit at. Eliza chats to me all morning between serving customers. She’s well-travelled for someone her age, so we talk about all the different places we had been and compare experiences. Such a lovely girl.

During the last few weeks, a beautiful young woman with a bouncy black afro started coming in fairly frequently in the mornings, ordering a coffee and a sweet treat to go from Eliza. And each time she comes in, Eliza fumbles about sheepishly with a silly smile on her mouth as she tries to make her coffee. I have so far counted a total of four cakes she has dropped while trying to make small talk with this woman. Lucky for Eliza, she found it funny and would joke along with her.

Today feels like every other morning; I’m enjoying my breakfast when I notice Eliza beginning to fiddle with a takeaway cup while glancing out the window. I decide to ask her about that woman.

“Whose that young lady that’s been coming in recently?” I ask casually; Eliza snaps her head around from the window to me as if I read her mind.

“The-the young lady? Lady with the afro?” it sounds like she’s a little embarrassed, so I must be right! I nod and give her a cheeky smile.

“Yes! She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Eliza’s mouth opens to reply, but she seems to be struggling with what to say, so I’ll just say it for her. “What‘s her order?”

“Vanilla oat latte,” she replies much quicker this time, “With a little cocoa powder on top.” She adds before realising how fast she had recalled that order off the bat. I raise my eyebrows at her and let out a little chuckle. “It’s a nice coffee!”

“I bet.” We look at each other in a strange face-off. I have lived long enough to believe I’ve earned the right to speak my mind when I see fit. And I think that Eliza has a little crush, so I just keep asking questions. “What’s her name?” Eliza pauses again before answering.

“I… don’t know. I haven’t asked.” I can tell that she’s a little nervous, Eliza hasn’t come out to me, and we’ve never spoken about homosexuality, but I’ve known since she dropped the first cake.

“Do you like her?” Eliza’s face goes red, and her mouth hangs open. I pat her on her arm to reassure her. “Don’t worry! I’m old, not ignorant!” She lets out a sharp breath and laughs.

“Oh, sorry! I just assume that all old people are pretty… conservative.”

“We can be, but my wife was actually bisexual and I had a number of friends who were gay.” I vaguely explain to Eliza, I can’t just tell her every detail about my life all at once. Soon we would have nothing to talk about each morning.

“Thank you, I haven’t come out to a lot of people, so I’m glad you’re so cool about it.” Eliza looks much more relaxed, so I quickly spring her with the familiar question.

“So, do you like this lady?” I continue to bounce my eyebrows up at her as she stammers her answer.

“I don’t know! She’s really cute, but I keep goofing up in front of her, so she probably thinks I’m weird.”

“You’re a very nice girl. I’m sure she finds you just as delightful!” Who wouldn’t be captivated by cheerful Eliza? She’s so considerate and polite.

She still has the takeaway cup in her hands as she leans against the window while we chat.

“I don’t even know if she likes women, though! I look like such a doofus whenever she comes in, but I don’t mind, you know? Like, I don’t care if she laughs at me as long as I can see her laugh.” I can’t help to coo at her sweet sentiment, to which she just rolls her eyes.

“Stop!” she groans at me. I can’t help but smile at her coy reaction as she takes a seat across from me. “I just don’t know how to speak to her!” Eliza sighs, looking at the cup in her hands. There’s a pause before she suddenly asks me, “How did you meet your wife?” she surprises me with that question, but I tell her.

“Right here, she was as a barista in the 70s. I was so mesmerised by her that I asked if she worked around here.” Eliza snorts back a laugh, and it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I was nervous! She was so beautiful – completely out of my league!” I pause for a second before turning the focus back to Eliza. “That could be a good ice-breaker for you! Ask her if she works locally.”

“Talk to her? That seems a little much.” Eliza jokes, but I can tell she’s timid to the idea of starting a conversation with this woman. I continue to egg her on.

“You never know. She could be dying to get to know you.” She pauses as she thinks it over. From over her shoulder, I spot a familiar figure walking towards the café through the window. “Make sure to at least find out her name!” I quickly add before the door chimes, and the mystery woman walks through the front door. Eliza jumps to her feet.

“Good morning.” The young woman greets us; I simply stay quiet and nod my head to her. Eliza, on the other hand, couldn’t handle being as smooth.

“Hi! Morning! The usual, yeah?” She babbles out while rushing behind the coffee bar.

“Please.” The woman was wearing a bright yellow jumpsuit with a matching yellow headband like she had just jumped out of a disco. She strides up to the coffee bar and ponders across the different cakes and tarts in the display case.

“I would definitely recommend the chocolate cake, my dear! I have one every day!” I pipe up to her. The woman turns and smiles at me, bemused with curiosity.

“Every day? Is that good for you?”

“When you’re in good company, yes!” She laughs at my answer and turns back to Eliza, who was carefully watching our interaction.

“I’ll have a slice of the chocolate cake then, please.” Her voice was sweet to hear; I could see why Eliza fancies her. She seems to have a kind heart.

“Sure, cool!” Eliza answers immediately, leaving the coffee cup under the nozzle as she rattles about with the takeaway bags. A silence has quickly settled in the café, and I couldn’t stand watching Eliza bumble about awkwardly. I pull out a pen from my pocket and write ‘WORK’ in big letters on my napkin. I hold it up behind the woman for Eliza to see as she hands her the chocolate cake to go. Eliza’s eyes dart back and forth between the woman and me before she manages to blurt out the start of a conversation.

“So, do you work around here?” The woman smiles at Eliza and nods as if glad she asked.

“Yeah, I work at the secondary school around the corner. I like coming here since it’s so close.”

“Oh cool, so you’re a teacher?” She’s done it! Eliza has finally managed to start a conversation with this beautiful woman! The two start chatting about her career as a mathematics teacher as I sit back and watch their sweet interaction unfold. Until it came settling the bill. “That’ll be £6.90, please.” Eliza punches in a few buttons on the register as the woman taps her card on the machine to pay. I rush to write on the other side of my napkin ‘NAME?’ and dart it up above my head for Eliza to see. She sees my prompt and panics as the woman takes her order from the counter. “Name!” Eliza bursts out. “I mean, what’s your name? You come in here a lot. And I’m wearing a name tag,” she points to her tatty badge, “But you don’t, so… What’s your name?” The two of them stare at each other in a moment of silence as I watch in surprise. Eliza wasn’t kidding when she said she acts like a doofus around this woman. But luckily, she continued to find Eliza’s doofus-ness rather endearing as she giggles.

“It’s Lavelle.” She looks at Eliza with a broad smile on her face as she replies.

“Cool.” That is all Eliza seems to know what to say as she beams back at her. There’s another pause as I watch these two share their moment. Eventually, Lavelle breaks their hesitation and glances back at the door.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks as she pushes the lid down on her cup and takes a sip.

“I work all day, every day, so definitely!” Eliza just couldn’t stop herself. She’s so abundantly evident that it made me chuckle. But Lavelle heard me and turns to shoot me a knowing grin that I simply return. She turns back to Eliza.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” She smoothly glides to the front door, “Bye.” She almost sings out to Eliza. Perhaps she was too stunned to reply because Lavelle was gone before she could say anything else. Probably for the best. After a moment, Eliza turns to me and squeals.

“I asked her!”

"Yes, you did!”

It was rather heartwarming to see this café continue to bring people together after fifty years. And for the first time in a while, I was looking forward to another day I could have my pre-cardiac-arrest breakfast and watch these two fawn over each other.