Everyone watches. But who really sees?
Two women animatedly talk about their charity shop purchases as they walk towards the café. Buoyed with the delight of the bargains contained in the bags swinging from their hands, they’re looking forward to sitting down. Their gossip and laughter last as long as the coffee and sugary cakes they’ve ordered, before they reluctantly return home. Untidy houses, indifferent husbands, and defiant children await them. Neither woman hurries. Their worlds are brightened by this weekly contact and as they leave each other, both wonder when her life became so aimless. When did dreams get forgotten and monotony take hold? Their weekly highlight ends too soon. It always does.
The big man strides briskly past the café window oblivious to others who swerve out of his way. He’s lost in thought about the wager he’s just placed on a ‘sure-thing’ winner in today’s eleven-o-clock horse race. No-one knows he’s been betting and losing badly since the big win he had at Christmas, and he’s scared to look at his bank account. Marcie doesn’t know. She believed him when he told her he’d stopped gambling. She thinks he’s going to take them both on a holiday to New Zealand and has already said she’ll leave him if he ever makes another bet. He badly needs a win. Today has to be the day his bet gets him out of the financial mess he’s in. If it isn’t, he’s already stockpiled some of the sleeping tablets Marcie used when she was unable to sleep. He gives a quick shrug and straightens his shoulders as he walks on. No. It won’t come to that. Today is his last bet. Today he’ll have a winner.
The two girls have commandeered the café table for the last hour. Their skinny lattes are cold and only partially drunk. Stale, frothy smears mark the inside of their glass beakers and occasionally one girl raises a head from her mobile phone and attempts a sip. While they still have liquid before them, they’re declaring their right to remain. Becca is frantically texting Jayden who rarely replies. He’s ignored her since she got drunk at his birthday bash and ended up having sex with him in the lavatory. She’s desperate to believe he’s interested in her, but he only sends the occasional one word reply to her lengthy texts. It makes her feel cheap when she just wants to believe that Jayden likes her. She tells Joni everything. She doesn’t know what she’d do without Joni. Joni’s her friend.
Joni is following the latest chatter about the ‘Markles’ and enjoying the thrill of scandal. It’ll amuse her boyfriend if she can relate something racy that he hasn’t yet heard. Perhaps she’ll tell him tonight when she lets him see her in her new Veronica’s Secret underwear. That’ll really get him turned on. She takes a sly look at Becca who’s told her all about the ‘sex-in-the-loo’. Joni thinks Becca is a silly cow who’s probably still trying to get Jayden to talk to her. Jayden’s told Joni that Becca is a boring tart. Joni knows Jayden doesn’t like Becca because he really loves Joni. Jayden’s her boyfriend.
The middle-aged couple sit silently at the next table staring blankly ahead. They can’t remember why they chose to sit here after leaving the consultant’s office and can’t remember everything he said. Did they really order those coffees that are sitting on the table before them? Does this crowded place give them some life affirming reassurance in the activity and babble surrounding them? Both need comfort and neither can give it to the other. They are frozen into immobility. Minds are in turmoil, hearts racing, stomachs churning while dread stills their limbs. Yesterday was normal and real. Today they are living through a nightmare they never saw coming when they awoke this morning. How many tomorrows will they have? How did this happen? How do they rearrange their plans? How do they tell others? He reaches for her hand and tries to smile. He forces himself to speak, “We’ll be right, love”. She can’t smile back and knows if she tries to speak, she’ll start to cry. They both know nothing is ever going to be right for them again.
We all live as islands surrounded by people, but completely alone. We watch others. But few truly see.
Burnside Writers Group 