Green Light

The ring sat on the table between the two of them. Caught in a patch of sunlight that streamed through the café window, it cast tiny green patterns across the bleached wood.

The smell of strong coffee and old books, two scents that both of them had once agreed were the epitome of comfort, was now slightly spoiled by the tension that was brewing at their corner table, beside the window.

The passers-by couldn’t have known that when they curiously glanced in through the café’s street level windows, they were witnessing two lives caught in a crucial moment. They only saw a pretty girl with black locks masking her eyes and a clean shaven man staring nervously at the mug in his hands.

A waitress came over to their table, her perky ponytail bobbing insistently with each step.

‘Is everything alright over here?’

Tom could tell that if he didn’t dismiss her soon, she would continue to pester them in the name of ‘good service’. He stared even more intently at his bitter coffee – she had forgotten his sugar – but refused to give her a reason to return.

‘Yes we’re fine thanks.’ He might have snapped a little, but it gave him the desired result. Crestfallen, the girl left to tend another table, her ponytail decidedly less bouncy.

He briefly glanced over to Emily in triumph, before remembering their situation, as he saw her eyes still fixed to his side of the table.

It was strange to think that it had only been a month since they had both been reading, tucked under a blanket to keep out the dull Autumn afternoon, when they had discussed how a good story often ended things in the place they began, as if a full circle made it all the more poignant. So both of them seemed to understand why it had to be here. The familiar bookshelves encroached on them and the smell of the place had often felt more like home than the small flat they had owned.

The first time he had approached her she had been wearing a green dress, and sitting in an armchair over the other side of the café. He had virtually begged the barista to remember exactly how the woman had preferred her coffee, and had finally been able to walk over with a fresh cup held proudly in his hands. When she had later asked why he didn’t just sit down and talk to her, he had explained that he couldn’t justifiably approach her without some kind of conversation starter.

They had discussed the book she was reading, his extensive list of books that he planned on eventually reading, their mutual caffeine addictions. Finally he had felt safe to say;

‘Would you like to do this again sometime?’ And she had smiled through the rest of the day.

Looking over now, a couple in their eighties had taken the place, both so comfortable in their plush seats that they looked as though they might never leave. There was something he loved about seeing old couples still going out together, but now it was just a painful reminder of their failure to re-create such a long-lasting happiness. They hadn’t been able to make it through six measly months and yet these people were flaunting their untainted bliss for the world to see, in their spot, as if they were taking a trophy from him because he wasn’t skilled enough to keep the title.

He shifted his gaze to the reason they were here, a cloud had passed in front of the sun now and the green light had shied away. There wasn’t much to look at on the table that seemed natural to hold his interest, but he didn’t dare look into her face.

He could tell that she was staring at it too, and because both of them were focussed so intently on the object it felt like he was staring into her eyes. He sighed and turned to look out the window, unable to take the amber flecked hazel.

‘I suppose I should have seen this coming.’ He felt a wave of hostility forced into a sea of acceptance.

‘Well it’s not the first time we’ve discussed it. You know I don’t want to be here.’

‘How long will you need to stay?’  

‘Earliest flight I can book is a week.’

‘I’ll take the sofa then.’ He had meant it as a place to sleep, but then his mind wandered into the question of who would take the sofa? Eventually, if she ever returned from her travels, she might complain that she wanted it, and then how would they decide?

‘I could move in with a friend if that’s easier on you.’

‘No it’s fine, really you can stay as long as you need.’ The courtesy slipped through his lips before he could consider her offer, perhaps it would be easier with her gone. He didn’t know how he would manage for the next week living with the woman, but it was her flat too, he had no right to throw her out. It was only a week after all. 

‘Thanks.’

‘You know I would have waited for you though?’ She nodded slowly, her mouth curling up at the corners in an attempt to stop tears. Some supressed part of him wanted to shake her out of it, here he was losing everything but staying calm for her, and yet she was still going to end up crying.

‘I know.’ She whispered.

‘So then why are we even-?’

‘I’m doing this for your sake.’ She finally spoke up, cutting him off from the desire to start an argument.

The guilt on her face had quickly been replaced with determination, this was the look she had shown so many times before. When he had suggested a movie for her that she knew he would hate, or when he offered to stay in with her instead of meeting with his friends. It was the look of a discussion over, the look of his kindness rebuffed. If she couldn’t logically argue her way, she had a tendency to just stop and do what she wanted anyway, until he had no other choice.

'You know what, if you wanted to do something for my sake then how about you give me back two years of my life?' Tom finally snapped, unable to maintain his civil act any longer, he longed for her to fight back, to give him a reason to shout at her, but her eyes simply fell once again to the table.

Pushing her chair back, the legs scraping painfully against the floor, she turned to leave. Hesitantly, she looked back towards him, her tone suddenly more bitter than his coffee.

‘Maybe I’d better stay with Carrie tonight.’

She walked slowly out of the café and had soon disappeared into the busy streets.

The ring still sat in front of him, once again casting green shadows over his fingers. His mind turned to the unanswerable question; if he kept it would she come back?