Under the Corner Streetlamp

Celia looked down at the text on her phone from her older sister as she was strolling to her café in downtown Portsmouth, New Hampshire. She carefully moved along over the cobblestone sidewalks keeping her face mask up while trying to answer her sister. She knew it was not safe to walk and text, but hell nothing was safe these days. The bag of groceries she was carrying was becoming heavy as the plastic was pulling on her wrist. Monica, her sister, was debating whether to get the vaccine as she was in the next round of eligibility. Celia’s brother in-law, Monica’s husband, was against the vaccine, but her sister, always undecided, wanted Celia’s opinion. “Up to you” was Celia’s ambivalent reply as she put the key into the door of her café which had been closed for two months. She was not trying to sound indifferent, but she was so done with this whole pandemic, and the life that was now this “new normal!” She sent Monica a smiley emoji and texted “Got to go!”

Celia’s Corner Café was located in Portsmouth, an east coast city known for its historic harbor and New England charm. Celia had opened the café in 2019 and had a banner year with people lined up every Sunday to get some of the fresh baked goods and coffee before heading off to shop. During the week the café attracted all the locals who would get their fresh morning brew and a bagel or croissant.

She remembered when she first walked by and saw the location at the corner next to Carlo’s Ristorante. Monica was with her that afternoon three years ago now and convinced her to make an offer. The space was small but still ideal. Being next to Carlo's was a stroke of luck. Customers would wait in line around the corner even when they had a reservation for a meal at his restaurant. Celia had never met Carlo as her café closed in the afternoon just when his restaurant would open in pre-COVID times. She did often smell some of the remnants of his cooking that would ignite her senses as she was closing or when she came into the café on off hours.

After the great opening in 2019, 2020 was on track to be another successful whirlwind for her little place that offered specialty coffees, French pastries, and a variety of breads. She had just started to embark on a small sandwich menu when the pandemic changed everything. No sandwich menu, no specialty coffees, and few customers. She laid off half of her staff. She kept the café running but when the third wave of the virus hit this past winter, she shut down. Now she was planning to reopen with limited offerings. Celia put the bag of groceries on the granite countertop and glanced at the streetlamp on the corner which was starting to light a yellow-orange glow. As she started to turn back, she saw the hands waving from Carlo's Ristorante next door.

He was tall, lean and had one of those male hair buns that only certain men could pull off. His face was hidden behind a mask but his eyes, even from a distance, had a sparkle. Celia walked out the front door she had just come in.

“Ah, you must be Celia!” he shouted from the door at the front of his restaurant.

Celia nodded “I’m guessing you are the famous Carlo!”

“Guilty as charged! What brings you back today? Are you opening up?”

“Yes, getting ready to reopen tomorrow, will just have coffee and a few breads.”

“I love the smell of your rolls!” Carlo explained while bringing his fingers closed together to his mouth and then releasing as if to blow out. “Perfection!”

Celia blushed, thinking it has to the damn mask.

“Well, I’m here to do some early preparing for tomorrow, I’ll bake you some.”

“Better yet,” Carlo yelled, “Let me cook your dinner. How about Chicken Marsala?”

“Sounds delicious!”

“I also have a new bottle of wine. I'll bring dessert as well!”

“You know the way to a girl’s heart, Carlo!”

Carlo then disappeared back into his establishment. Celia went to her small kitchen and pulled out dough from her refrigerator she had made earlier in the week. As she was heating up the oven, a loud blast of opera music came on next door. She looked through the glass panels that connected their eateries to see Carlo with a white apron as a cape pretending to be an opera singer while dancing around. She burst out laughing. He had already placed a glass of the Merlot for her on one of the white ornate dinette tables outside and flipped the chair down. She got the wine and did some opera prancing herself while pounding and kneading the dough for the rolls. This time Carlo was doubled over laughing as Celia danced around her café pretending to sing and scream.

They both returned outside while the rolls were baking, and the food was cooking. Each sat in front of their own business to keep that social distance thing going. Celia still had her mask, but it was now around her chin after her singing and Carlo had his hanging off his ear. Sipping the wine, they talked and reminisced about the “pre-COVID days” and if they would return. Carlo had opened his restaurant ten years ago. He had started with help of his mother’s recipes. His mother, who lived with his sister until last summer when she had moved to an assisted living, was especially adoring of Carlo. Celia listened as he described his love for his mother and his family.

Carlo then paused and commented “You are very beautiful, Miss Celia!”

Celia again blushed and looked down at her sweatpants and sneakers, thinking about how little effort she put into her wardrobe these days. “You are a charmer, Carlo!”

“You know I am gay.”

“Yes, very!” Celia responded as she glanced back at her wine and held up her glass.

Carlo burst out laughing. “Ah, let’s eat.”

Carlo placed a steaming hot plate of Chicken Marsala down on the table as Celia brought out the rolls. The light from the streetlamp was now a full array of orange, red and yellow hues. The streets remained empty. They both remarked how much in love they were with each other’s food.

While taking another sip of wine, Carlo explained how he had kept his restaurant going by partnering with a food service program to provide meals for those in need. He and his staff had still been cooking every day and getting paid. He then stated in some ways he learned more about how to give back in the last twelve months than he had in his whole life.

Carlo asked how she was holding up during these days. She told him how difficult it had been to manage and not lose the café for good. She started to say that she really did not understand the big deal about the virus when he interrupted her,

“I felt the same way, until I lost someone myself.”

“Oh, your mother?”

“My sister, she had just turned 60. Fought off breast cancer and so many other things in her life and COVID took her.” Carlo paused, “We still have not been able to plan the service.”

Celia felt tears well up in her eyes thinking of Monica. Her sister was her best friend, her biggest cheerleader and always there for her.

“I’m so sorry, Carlo.”

“Thank you. Hey how about some dessert?” he disappeared back into his kitchen.

Celia pulled out her phone and texted Monica. “Get the vaccine! I’ll go with you! Love you.”

She took another sip of wine while Carlo brought out the most decadent looking slice of chocolate cake.

"For my baker lover!" He filled her glass with more Merlot.

“Carlo with each glass you get better and better looking! Are you still?”

“Yes Very!” He winked as he raised his glass.