Café Window
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They sat at a small table mid-way into the café, four people around a table really only big enough for two. Glynna looked around at Jason and Jason’s parents, Laura and Ken. Their faces were in shadows in the dark café. It made her uncomfortable to not be able to see them more clearly. She looked down. It was almost impossible to read the little menu that the server had given them. “Why did they have to choose this dark hole of a café?” Glynna thought with more than a little irritation. She rolled her eyes in her mind. She knew why of course, they had had a whole discussion earlier about finding the perfect little café. They had walked quite a bit to get a distance from the more touristy areas of Madrid, so they could experience a real café, where real Spaniards drink their coffee or espresso or whatever it is that they drink. Glynna thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Real Spaniards want to see their menus just like me, she thought. Besides, real Spaniards aren’t in cafes at four pm on a working day, she thought, and she looked around, her eyes adjusting to the dark. Aside from them, there were three other customers, an older man who looked down on his luck and a young couple in their twenties. Students, she thought.
On their way here, they had passed a number of brighter, more welcoming places, places that seemed to offer more hope of actually refreshing them after a long day of sight-seeing, but one after the other was dismissed by Jason and her in-laws as too inauthentic. Glynna thought they were perfectly suitable and said so, but they poo-pooed her, saying things like, “You don’t know when you will ever be in Spain again. Don’t you want to experience it fully?” Why weren’t her in-laws the sort of normal 65 year olds whose feet got tired and who protested at prolonged walking? If their feet hurt they didn’t show it. They seemed satisfied that they had succeeded in achieving their quest for the right café. Indeed, they kept talking about how supremely satisfied they were with the whole trip thus far, how it was a big success. This was their celebratory retirement trip and they had treated Glynna and Jason so they could all go together. Glynna’s parents were watching her and Jason’s kids while they were away. Glynna had not looked forward to it.
She turned toward the large glass window at the front of the café, the only true source of light in the place. It was so bright compared to the dark cave they were in, and yet the light from it seemed to get swallowed up by the room not very far from the window, so that only the tables right near it had any light at all, a soft, blue-ish light that seemed very dreamlike. It must be the time of day, Glynna thought, or the buildings on the street cutting off a stronger light. She thought about the light past the window, the light past the buildings on the street, if only one could get beyond them. Suddenly, she had to get beyond them; she felt she was suffocating in that black hole of a café.
“I need some air,” Glynna said quietly, to the surprise of her husband and in-laws. “I’m just going to talk a bit of a walk. I didn’t want any coffee anyway.”
Jason was the first to comprehend what she was saying, “What are you talking about? I thought you needed to rest? And I don’t think it’s a very good idea. You don’t know your way around.” Ken and Laura nodded in agreement. “Have something to eat and drink to get some energy, said Ken. “It doesn’t have to be coffee. We’ll be walking outside soon enough.” As punctuation Laura added, “That’s crazy Glynna.”
Glynna had her back to the window as she faced them, but she could feel it there, behind her, a bright opening in a black expanse. The close, dank air of the café was starting to make her feel ill. “I’m not hungry. I just need some air. I won’t be long. I’ll just go up and down the block, maybe around the corner. I have a watch. You all relax and have your coffee, and I’ll be back in 15- 20 minutes. Then we can all leave together.”
She didn’t wait for their responses, she just turned and headed out. In the corner of her eye she saw Jason start to rise in protest, but she kept going and he didn’t follow her out. The light temporarily blinded her, as she had been accustomed to the dark of the café, but she didn’t stop. She half-staggered for a brief moment while she headed away from the café. Then, regaining her sense of balance, she lifted her chin and took in her surroundings as she walked.
Where was she? Where was she really? She hadn’t been paying too much attention as they walked in search of a café. She had been too preoccupied with her thoughts about how silly the whole thing seemed. The street was lined with a combination of older and newer building styles. The buildings seemed to be mostly apartments over an occasional commercial establishment. They weren’t very tall, just two and three stories, but the street was narrow, which accounted for the filtering of the light. She needed to get to a more open area. But which way to go? She didn’t want to get lost, she thought, just have a bit of an adventure, maybe go for a walk for a few blocks to get rid of this feeling of claustrophobia that was pressing her in. She headed up the block, and immediately started feeling better.
She felt excited and a little girlish. It was silly, really, she was just going for a little walk. But it seemed like a great adventure. It was so freeing, to be completely on her own. She could walk where she pleased. She felt a surge of energy and happiness. Like a rising balloon. How silly it was! And yet she smiled as she headed for the corner. She had to keep from skipping! She swung her arms and took wide strides swishing her skirt in recompense.
At the intersection she looked up and down the street she had come to. It was just as narrow as the one behind her, but the buildings were more varied, and there were a few wrought iron balconies with flowers. There wasn’t much foot traffic. On her left she saw a man with a bundle of some sort hurrying toward her, and started a bit before she realized with some embarrassment that he was oblivious to her. He scuttled past her, on some important mission. She followed him with her eyes as he crossed the sidewalk, and then, feeling eyes upon her, she looked up. A matronly woman stood on a balcony, surrounded by terra cotta pots of varied sizes, her crossed arms and ample bosom up against the railing. She was watching Glynna and didn’t look away when Glynna matched her gaze. To her own surprise, Glynna felt neither embarrassment nor irritation. She just studied the woman for a moment, then turned away to continue her adventure. “Oh wait!” she thought. “Better check the time, so I know when to head back.” She looked at her watch. It said four twenty. “I’ll make sure to be back no later than four forty,” she thought. She turned to the right and started up the street. She could feel the big bosomed woman’s eyes following her.
This street went a bit of a ways before coming to another. She strode purposefully along, and yet felt very young in the knowledge that she had no purpose, that she knew of, anyway. All the time in the world was in these twenty minutes that belonged just to her. She saw two children, a boy of about 10 and a girl of about 12, bickering good-naturedly on the stoop of an apartment building. A man in a sleeveless undershirt came out, and in a manner that was hurried, annoyed and loving all at once, began herding them into the building. Feeling her gaze, he looked up and caught her eye. She smiled, and he smiled back, shrugging, as if to say “Kids! What can we do?” She smiled more broadly, nodding in understanding. His smile grew in return, revealing crooked teeth. The boy said something, taking his attention momentarily. He spoke in the same exasperated and affectionate tone, swatting the boy on the back of the head as the boy took the last step over the threshold into the building, all the while continuing his stream of exclamations. He then turned back briefly to wave and smile at Glynna. She waved back. Then they were gone.
Glynna took in the sudden quiet for a moment, then looked behind her back down the street to the balcony where the woman had been watching her. The woman was gone as well. She was on her own.
She continued in the direction she had been walking, but suddenly was not as lighthearted as she had been just a few moments ago. Something about seeing the man with his children left her feeling a little bit sad. An irrational part of her wanted to go back to the building and find them. She imagined trying to talk to them in English and all of them smiling together in kindness and acceptance even though they could not be understood. She imagined lightly stroking their beautiful dark hair and giving them each a cookie, which was silly since she had no cookies. Her fantasy was interrupted when Glynna became aware of a man whistling behind her. She whirled around, and there was a handsome man, who looked to be about forty, wearing an oddly out of place traditional Spanish costume, with a full black cape and a black hat. The cape had a red lining. He wore breeches that had beautiful embroidery up the sides. He smiled and stopped walking as she wheeled around. “Señora!” he greeted, in an admiring and obsequious manner, and then took a deep bow. Glynna felt herself flush crimson, even while she was thinking, “How ridiculous! He must be part of some theatrical tourist thing.” Then she wondered, irrationally, “If he knows I’m a señora why is he following me?” Panic welled up in her as she regarded him. He looked up and gave a rakish grin. He seemed ominous all of a sudden. She turned and ran.
She ran to the next intersection and turned left this time. She could hear faint laughter behind her. The street was short and she turned right. This time the street went for a bit before going under a highway of some kind. She entered the underpass, still running. After reaching the far end, she leaned against the concrete wall of the underpass to catch her breath and looked behind her. No one was there. She sighed with relief. Still, she felt unsafe in the darkened tunnel and determined to go a bit further to get back into the light.
When she exited the underpass, she saw what appeared to be the back of an athletic field, maybe of some municipal park or a school, she couldn’t be sure. She scrambled up a grassy hill into the field, next to some bleachers and then looked around. She was alone. She decided to get away from the bleachers, which were still too close to the street, and move to the buildings across the field. She felt that there she could catch her breath back and get sensible, before heading back.
She walked quickly across the field looking both ways. No one was there. A stray dog was nosing around in the grass. She got to the buildings, which turned out to be restrooms. She leaned against the red brick wall and closed her eyes. “What was wrong with her?” she thought. “Was there really any danger?” She thought about the caped man. He didn’t follow her. Maybe he was just having a bit of a laugh. No, she concluded. His intentions were unclear. They were forming before her eyes. Still, she had managed to get away. Nothing bad had happened.
She stayed against the wall for a while. Okay, she thought. Time to get back. No need to tell them all that happened, though. It sounds crazy, anyway. I can’t bear to see them exchanging looks. But, I should head back now. She looked at her watch. It was four forty. “Oh shit,” she thought. She hurried back across the field. If she really hurried, she could get back in ten minutes. They’d be put out, probably, but there was no way they’d be done with their coffee and cake, or whatever real, authentic Spanish pastry they would be eating. The worst thing would be having to hear once again about how she has no sense of time. She did not want to go back through the underpass but she felt she had no choice, as she did not think she could find her way back otherwise. She entered the tunnel, and saw to her relief that a small group of young men and women were at the far end walking toward her, laughing and talking. She started feeling much better, and headed back through the tunnel. “It was just weird,” she thought. “No reason to be freaked out for the rest of my life!” she chuckled.
At the other end of the tunnel she emerged back into the late afternoon light, determined to hurry back to the café. She hustled back up the long street to the next intersection and turned left. So far so good. She recognized the short street, picked up her pace and quickly got to the next corner. She turned and head up that one, quickly glancing at her watch. It said four fifty. She strode faster. “God this sucks!” she thought. All the fun and excitement that had been hers when she left the café was drained away, replaced by stress, anxiety and resentment. This hadn’t been her fault! She had been menaced by a stranger, a caped stranger, for godssakes and had to get away from him! But she could hear the condemnations, Jason angrily accusing her of having been selfish or, worse, of being incompetent and hopeless when it comes to finding her way. She could see Laura shaking her head, Ken trying to mollify Jason, while gently chiding her like a child, “You had us very worried, Glynna.” She dreaded the scene; she didn’t want to return even as she ran up the street. Time suddenly felt like pressure in her head, like a thin sharp pain, like a high pitched sound. She became acutely aware of each minute. She could make each minute stretch out, she thought irrationally. It felt that way. She could cover all the distance she needed to because time was moving more slowly for her. But no, it wasn’t true. No matter how much each minute slowed, it still passed, and she hadn’t gotten as far as she wanted, and when it passed into the next minute it tore away part of her with it.
She came, finally, to the end of the street and stopped short. “Fuuhhck,” she exhaled. It wasn’t right. She wasn’t at the right intersection. She looked to her right for the apartment building where the children had been with the kind and loving man, but it wasn’t there. She wondered if she was mistaken, the buildings were all beginning to look similar. But no, she wasn’t. That building had pretty old-fashioned black sconces on either side of the door and she didn’t see those. “Fuck, fuck,” she muttered, turning around this way and that. “I’ve got to go back and figure out what I did wrong,” she said aloud. She started back the way she had just come. “Maybe I was too lost in thought and wasn’t paying attention,” she wondered. “Or maybe that encounter with the caped man so unnerved me that I didn’t walk the way I thought I did.” She continued back up the street, but could not find the short street she remembered leaving. “Wow, this is bad. This is really bad,” she muttered. She looked at her watch again. It was five o’clock. “How did that happen?” she wondered. She began to relax, feeling the strangeness of it all. What should she do? Should she just keep going up and down the streets until she found the building with the black sconces? She had no cell phone – Jason had it. Besides, whom would she call? The police? She didn’t even know the name of the café. She knew the name of the hotel, though. She stopped herself. “This is a stupid line of thought,” she told herself. “I have no phone.” She imagined their annoyance turning into concern, then panic, as the minutes passed. She could feel them feeling the tearing away of time that she had felt just a short while ago.
She felt a bit bad, a bit guilty as she realized that she wasn’t entirely concerned with how worried they would be. “There’s nothing I can do about that, and when I’m back they’ll have no reason to worry anymore.” She suddenly remembered an incident that happened many years before with an old boyfriend, Carl. She had been feeling increasingly distant from him, dissatisfied and smothered. They went skiing for the day with friends, and she had made it to the bottom of the run before he or any of them did. Hardly knowing why, she got back on the lift line without him and found herself on the way up the mountain with a complete stranger, a decent-looking young man about her age. He started engaging her in conversation, and she responded, him growing warmer as he began to think that he was succeeding in gaining her interest, she the whole time being very self-aware and acting in a role, like in the movies. She was completely disengaged. Her private thoughts were playing in the back of her mind, even as she conversed with the stranger. She had behaved horribly, she was being selfish and cruel, but in those suspended moments on the ski lift, between her cruel act and the consequences that awaited her at the bottom of the mountain, she was free from it all. From the joylessness that enveloped her when she was with Carl, and the guilt she felt in knowing that she no longer cared for him. And from the guilt and remorse she would feel when she saw the hurt and confusion in his face at the bottom of the run. She was enjoying her freedom. The freedom to chat with a nice-looking guy and to think private, selfish thoughts. The stranger suggested that they ski down together, and she agreed, smiling. When they got to the bottom, she saw Carl waiting for her and taking in the whole scene. She did not give the stranger a chance to say anything more, but said, “I’m here with some friends and I’ve got to go now. Thanks for the run.” She turned away, and headed toward Carl, not caring what the stranger thought or felt, though she could sense his surprised and confused expression behind her. Carl was angry and demanded to know why she had gone off like that. She herself was surprised at how nonchalantly and vaguely she answered. God, she really had closed off, there was no stopping her now. They finished what was left of the day in silence, which she knew was very upsetting for him, but which did not wound her. At the end of the day, their friends drove them to a train station and they headed back into the city. Once they were alone on the train, Carl again demanded an explanation. She told him that she didn’t know exactly why she had left him for a stranger, that she had needed some time to get her head clear, that she didn’t love him. It was a bad and painful scene. She knew she was hurting him and that pained her. Carl was a sweet and loving man; he didn’t deserve to be hurt. She didn’t want to hurt him. He said, “People talk things out! They don’t just say ‘I don’t love you’ and end it!” But she knew that there was nothing to talk about. Nothing they said would change the fact that she didn’t love him. She realized then that she had never loved him, though she had tried and tried. She had spent a year convincing herself and him that she had loved him.
“Well there’s nothing to do but keep walking until I either find the café, a cab or a person who speaks English,” Glynna concluded. She started walking again, resigned to the worry she knew the others were now feeling, but she no longer felt. She was a bit tired, as the sudden departure of her anxiety made her aware of how heavy a burden it had all been. But at the same time, she felt so much lighter that, despite her fatigue, she thought she’d be fine with more walking, albeit at a slower pace. Why race around like a maniac? It wouldn’t help anything to be frantic.
Her thoughts wandered. How did this happen? she pondered. How had she turned into a young child, someone to be lovingly suffered, to receive their condescending smiles, even from Laura, who had been a young wife and mother once? She wondered if Ken had ever directed his paternal tone toward Laura – she seemed so brittle and bright, like a trumpet note, for that ever to have been the case. Anyway, it didn’t matter. She suddenly hated all of them.
The deserted street with its closely packed assortment of buildings would make a great backdrop for a story, Glynna thought. “What tale could I weave here?” she mused. In college she had been a student of literature and creative writing. She had actually penned a few short stories that were published in respected journals. She had been working on putting together a collection when she met Jason. They had met in a laundromat. He was getting his MBA. He was confident, handsome and very attentive. He loved the fact that she was “creative.” He always told people they met that she was a writer.
The light was fading further. It was getting close to dinnertime. People will definitely be coming out soon, she thought. She was on a different street now. Here it was, a dozen years later, and all that had changed, she thought. Jason ran his own wildly successful image-consulting firm. He was hardly ever home during the week. He needed someone to buy his clothes, do his errands, keep their books. That became her. They owned the over-large home she had had to furnish, with all of its “systems”– the sound system, the alarm system, the sprinkler system, the water filtration system, the pool system, the humidity system – which needed managing. They had the two kids, Katie and Eric – here she softened a bit as she thought of them, she did miss them – involved in all their activities after school and on the weekends. And when they weren’t all racing from one place to the next, when they were at home, she could get nothing accomplished with them around. She could gain no focus. It was always “Mommeeeee?” in that calling voice that made her sigh. Or they were fighting and came to her looking for justice. Her writing had fallen away. She felt like a vessel. Like a big mythical Greek urn, pouring out water, pouring and pouring, until it was empty. Could that make a story? “No, it was too boring,” she thought, wryly.
She knew that people should be out at this hour, and yet there was no one. The nature of the street had changed. The buildings were more spread apart. There were patios and driveways between some of them. The lighting was getting dusky. It didn’t make sense that there was no one. Wouldn’t there be at least one person? Suddenly, she did see a light and movement in a storefront. It looked like a little café and pastry shop. She crossed the street and went toward it.
When Glynna opened the door, she saw an elderly woman standing behind a glass counter case. She was short and a little stooped and wearing a black shawl. Her hair was white and pulled back into a bun. She looked up at Glynna with a kind and weathered face and smiled, nodding her head. It was almost as if she were communicating, “Yes, you’re in the right place. I’ve been expecting you.” It was a little unnerving. Glynna breathed in deeply and walked up to the counter. She asked if the woman spoke English, but the woman just kept smiling and did not respond. Glynna pointed to a pastry in the case and the woman nodded, still smiling. Glynna added “Uno café?” and the woman nodded again. Glynna watched her move for a coffee cup and pour the dark brew. She handed it to Glynna with the same comforting and unnerving smile. Glynna took the coffee and brought it to her lips. The woman nodded and smiled, even as Glynna drank, even as everything began to melt and swirl into a blurry run of blue-ish brown shadows and weak yellow incandescent light. The old woman’s face was still there, smiling and nodding, and saying “Si, si. Yes, yes,” until it was gone.
Glynna opened her eyes. She was lying down outside somewhere, a strong breeze blowing across her body. It was daylight, the kind of light that happens in the early morning just after dawn. She started to stand and felt that her legs were caught at the ankles. There was some kind of plastic twine wrapped there, haphazardly, as though she had accidentally become entangled. She vaguely recalled wandering through a junkyard. Perhaps she got caught in the twine there. Had she been wandering all night? How far had she walked? What had happened to the old woman and the strange little shop? Where was she?
She untangled the twine, and it fell away easily. Then she stood up. To her amazement, she was on the crest of a hill, looking out across many hills. The city, or any city for that matter, was nowhere to be seen. All Glynna could see were the most beautiful cypress trees dotting the landscape, swaying in the breeze. The sky was a strange, pale, startling turquoise. It reminded her of the color of the sky in the Dr. Seuss books she had read to Katie and Eric. All there was before her were the sky, the grassy hills, the scattered swaying trees and the strong breeze. It fluttered her skirt and blew her hair around her face. It seemed to be softly saying, “Si, si-i-i. Yes, yes-s-s.” She opened her arms wide and breathed in the clean sweet smell of the air. How long had she walked? What day was this? These questions came into her mind, but drifted out onto the breeze without answer. She didn’t care. Here was the sweet smell and the caress of the breeze, and she, standing on the hill, with her arms extended and her face upturned, and all the thoughts in her head wafting out onto the breeze, which was cleansing her. It was filling her and she was becoming the breeze. She tensed for a moment, thinking about Katie and Eric. She didn’t want them to drift out of her head, she loved them, she wanted to be their mother, to see them again, to take care of them. But it was all right, she thought. She would see them again. They were safe with her parents. It was not goodbye. It was just a moment of peace. She could let them drift out, for just this time. She wasn’t losing them into the breeze. She wasn’t losing herself. She was becoming herself. “Si, si. Yes, yes,” the breeze was saying. “Glynna. Glynnnaaa. Glynna!”
She felt a horrible yank into consciousness, a confusing blur of awareness, and suddenly, with an aching disappointment, she realized that she was in the café with Jason and her in-laws. She had never left. Very little time had passed. The light from the window was only subtly changed. They had not put on any lights yet inside. “Glynna! Were you sleeping? The server is waiting!” Jason chided impatiently. “”You see? You were tired,” Laura declared. Glynna quickly comprehended everything that was happening in the scene: they were in the café, she had dozed off, it was all a dream. But she had been happy in the dream. There had been danger, but she had been happy. She was not happy now. She was desperately unhappy. The server was standing there waiting for her order. They were all waiting. “What do you want?” Jason demanded with a look that was exasperated, paternal and smug all at the same time.
She looked at him, calmly. She was unfazed by his tone of voice. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth and she held her gaze. Her eyes were hard. Jason’s expression faltered. He was confused. Then doubt entered his eyes. All the time in the world spilled into that moment, and Glynna was very strong. “I’ll have a coffee,” she said, not taking her eyes from Jason. Then she turned her gaze to the server and smiled sweetly.
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