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by Haytch Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Women's · #1738329
Ellie Peyton is middle-aged and restlesss, seeking new flares in life.
Coffee To Go



  "Carpe Diem". Seize the day.
  Ellie Peyton traced the curly letters tattooed into her flesh and smiled. Her forearm was still puckered and pink from the needle, but the pain had receded and was now nothing more than a dull, prickling itch. Pulling down her sleeve she stepped off the curb and crossed the street in the direction of a little cafe just south of the tattoo parlor. She was meeting her friend Kate there for brunch. A Dodge nearly mowed her down as she scuttled across the road in her heels, but Ellie wasn't one to get a chuckle from the irony. She just flicked the driver her middle finger and her most voracious smile when he blasted his carhorn at her.

  A tiny bell above the door dinged as she entered the cafe. It was a homely place, with red-check table cloths, tiny sachets of brown sugar and an atmosphere alive with springy touches of jazz. Ellie went up to the counter and stirred around the contents of her handbag. Her shoulders sagged when she realized just how little cash was actually in there, and was able to imagine the cartoon moth flying out the silver-fringed old velvet, followed by a sad little cloud of dust and an expiring "poof" sound effect.

  Telling the young man behind the counter what she wanted Ellie paid him, with embarrassing precision, in change. He was dazzlingly cute. His little red and white plastic name tag read: JASON. Ellie had a hopeless predilection for blonds, and this one's fair and spiky locks were making her remember a particularly heated summer behind the bicycle shed. She was thirty-eight now. School was a faded memory, a haze of bubbly laughter, grass stains and the days without wrinkle cream.

  Giving Jason a smile maybe a bit too young for her mouth, Ellie picked out a seat. And she had no sooner plonked her backside into the gravity-dipped chair when the bell above the door went again and in careened a toddler.

  "Zoom!" He cried, weaving a toy plane through the air. A tall and dreadfully haggard looking woman followed him in, bags adorning every shelf of her. Ellie waved them over.

  "Morning Kate." she said.

  "Oh yeah? What's so damn good about it?" Kate Laughner fumbled into the chair the other side of her, and even though Ellie hadn't said "good morning" she didn't feel the need to correct her friend. She instead scooped up the frantic tot who was about to run into a waitress and sat him firmly on her lap. Kate unloaded all her baggage and maneuvered it under the table with her foot, lighting a cigarette at the same time she took one long, stress-dissolving puff.

  The staff looked at her as in wanting to say something, but she was a frightening looking woman. Her wine-red corkscrew hair gave her a spinsterish quality, not helped by the heavy black liner that bled into the creases around her eyes. In the end they thought better of it.

  Her three year old son, Alex, stayed on Ellie's knee while his mum finished her cigarette, content to stab the nose of the toy plane into a porcelain milk pot. Kate made sure to steer her smoke away from him. It rose upwards to be sheared apart by the fans above their heads.

  Jason appeared tableside, announcing Ellie's order and setting it down in front of her. One medium black coffee and a slice of crumble sparsely dribbled with raspberry sauce. His voice had the stuffy, nasal twang of someone with a summer cold. He smiled. Ellie noticed the bridge of his nose was sprinkled lightly with acne scarring, and she smiled too.

  Kate stubbed out her ciggy and plucked a menu from between the pots of sugar sachets and milk. "Oi, kid, you can take my order while you're here." She said, and Ellie could have sworn she saw Jason flinch. She couldn't blame him for it, either. Kate wasn't the gentlest of speakers. Every breath was a thick, bronchial roar. He turned back to them as if awaiting a sentence, clutching the tray he'd brought Ellie's order on a little tighter to his chest while Kate scoured the menu for something to her liking.

  Ellie and Jason exchanged a laughable cringe when Kate let out a series of low, guttural coughs.

  "Hell. I'll have a large latte and the biggest slab of chocolate cake ya got. This is a celebration." Kate folded the menu back up and slipped it back into its stand, a broad smile on her face that looked more menacing than pleased. Jason left and Ellie took a fork to her crumble, though Alex had already pretty much decimated it with his hands while they were talking.

  "So what are we celebrating?" she asked.

  "My divorce finally came through." Kate said, wearing that unsure smile again. "We've got a new apartment, too. It's lovely. Isn't it, Alex?"

  He nodded distractedly, still forcing crumble into his mouth. Hands and face completely smeared with berry juice and breadcrumbs. Kate leaned over and winked, pointing to Alex and signing for Ellie to watch.

  "You know, Ellie, Alex got four blue stars in his homework last week. That was the highest in class. Quite the genius, my boy."

  Alex stopped shoveling the crumble through his teeth when he realized they were talking about him. And, suddenly beaming with immense pride, he swung his tiny fist around in circles. "Yeah! I beat 'em all!"

  "Modest, too." Ellie smiled.

  When Kate's order arrived they delved into the proverbial topics. Besides the nightly raids a fox was doing on her bins, things seemed to be going rather well for Kate. God knows, she deserved it.

  Ellie, too. She told Kate about her new job -- dressed it as a grand career move. And maybe it was, only time would tell she supposed. Being single, she spent her Saturday nights with good friends Ben & Jerry, flipping the pages of a Jane Austin novel between spoonfuls. The sad thing was, when Ellie looked in the mirror she didn't see herself anymore; she saw a raisin that had had all of its chocolate sucked off. It could be worse, but she was lonely. Maybe she'd meet some sharp, blue eyed clerk at her new job. Someone who'd take a shine to her laugh lines and slightly off-set chin.

  She sighed, casting her eyes around the cafe. Kate went on about her sister and Alex drove his little toy plane through the crumble embankments he'd made on the plate in front of her.

  Ellie was deaf to it all. The radio box the corner was burbling out "The Best of Sax". Boots Randolph's "Sleep Walk" was drifting through the atmosphere like the twirl of a young lady's skirt. It made some kind of smoky renaissance stir up a smile on her face. But her eyes slid back to the happenings of the real world after a time. After she found her own memories too bitter to indulge in anymore.

  On a table by the window an overweight old man with tapered specs was spreading a large sludge of Prozac over his piece of dry toast. He was mumbling softly to himself. While, across the room on a table near the lavatories, a young couple were arguing noisily. The girl cried out, getting to her feet in a loud and obvious manner.

  "She was my sister you Jackass!"

  "Baby, wait! I'm sorry! I can change!" The young man called after her, but she had already sped out of the cafe by the time he'd stood. He groaned and sat back down, trying to shrink into his own shoulders as around him eyes narrowed and tongues clicked in judgment.

  Ellie looked away.

  The cafe hadn't been especially busy when she'd entered but it had filled up during her and Kate's gab. Jason was shuttling from table to table while giggling teenage girls slipped dollars into the back pocket of his jeans. He smiled at them, but it was a flustered smile. Like he was annoyed he didn't have enough time to thank them properly, or otherwise tell them to keep their tips and stop touching his bum.

  Little pangs of childishness crept up from Ellie's stomach. She felt herself fidgeting with her skirt. It was long enough to hide her dimply thighs but still short enough to inspire a second look. Then she realized what she was doing and nearly laughed. She didn't fancy herself a Cougar. She wished now that she'd gotten to eat more of that crumble, it might have distracted her from the nostalgia spreading like a frost throughout all her insides.

  It had been going on all day. She'd known she was acting strange. Was it because of the tattoo? Had the words soaked so deep into her skin that they'd melted into her blood -- into her psyche? Was that why she was craving some fresh excitement so badly?

  The sonorous passel beat up around her with the drums of "Careless Whisper" while Ellie remained lost in her thoughts.

  Kate had noticed that Ellie wasn't quite listening to her halfway through one of her rants about the bus system and how inept it was. One ear might as well have been cocked in a different direction, like a cat who doesn't really think all that much of you as an owner and finds you yawningly jejune. Finally she took her fork and jabbed Ellie in the arm. Ellie emitted a small squeal, jumping a little in her seat, turning to Kate incredulously.

  "Your phone is ringing," she said.

  "What? Oh, sorry." Ellie fumbled in her purse for her mobile. "It's a text from Dad."

  "What's he saying?"

  "Nothing. He's got arthritis in his fingers so he just sends me a blank one whenever he wants me to phone him. Tapping out a message on such a small keypad hurts his fingers, y'know? And he doesn't like to phone in case I'm busy." She had no credit on her mobile and so maneuvered around in her seat. "I need you to get off for two secs Alex while I use the payphone phone up the back."

  He hopped off obediently, only to clamber back up onto the seat when Ellie got up and walked the length of the cafe, towards the payphone mounted on the far wall. It was directly under a fan, the cold air felt good on her neck. Dialing, she awaited her dad's monotonous wonder voice at technology. There would then come the first uncertain "hello?", before he'd repeat it as soon as she answered him. You know, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke.

  She wound the cord busily around her fingers, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her own skin. The tattoo, an ambiguous spritz of black on her arm. Standing up there in her little skirt and strappy heels, what was she thinking? A nervous smile rippled over her lips, the kind that came before a bout of badly timed laughter. Jason must have thought she was smiling at him because when she looked up he was grinning pleasantly in her direction. It was a little shaded behind a strap of light, giving his sweet smile a sneaky edge. Like he didn't want the teenage girls who had been coquetting him to see. Like it was just for her. The first spark of something yet to blaze.

  Or, maybe it was just the light.

  In the distance, she thought she heard the rumble of thunder.

  Her dad picked up and she averted her eyes to the floor as they began to talk. He launched into what he was saying perilously, something about the kettle not working. He misplaced his anger a little, but not enough to upset her. Ellie suggested he just buy a new one, but mother had just had her hair and nails done so it was impossible. Not enough money! He'd practically sang it. Her father had a bluesy voice, it was a little sad but also sympathetic. Ellie wished she hadn't splashed out on that expensive perfume.

  The man at the window, who was chewing down the last of his Prozac, suddenly gave a cough and a splutter in a sort of strangled gasp. He clutched at his chest and smacked his palm down on the table. A young, dark haired waitress came to his aid and when she began to thump him on the back he just shook his head and pointed outside. The waitress looked out of the window and screamed an almighty scream. Far too loud for someone with such a tiny frame.

  Everyone in the cafe turned to look and a few ran to the window to see what the commotion was about. Ellie hadn't been paying a blind bit of attention to the happenings around her. Unaware of the sudden terror now baking the room, she just talked louder to be heard over the rabble. But she suddenly realized that she couldn't hear her voice anymore over a wild, bouldering noise, gaining pitch and volume. She turned her head to the window and the receiver fell from her hand.

  Hurtling through the sky was a plane. It's tail was on fire, plumbing black smoke. It looked like it was trying to land on the stretch of road and its wings were tearing through every building that lined the street. The landing wheels were down but some had snapped off in whatever accident had begun its descent. Debris peeled from its body like the tail of some hellish comet. The entire plane tilted and the left wing sliced through an executive building in a burst of fire, sparks and glass.

  "I'm going to die on a Tuesday." Was the last thing Ellie Peyton said before the plane wing crashed through the front of the cafe.

  The mellow sound of jazz was replaced by a cataclysmic smash of warping of metal, crunching tiles, chairs and tables. All breaking under the weight of the falling debris. It was followed by the thunk and pitter-patter as the roof slumped down into the serving area, and bits of mortar and concrete rained down from the sky. The plane belly sparked like struck flint as it rubbed against the concrete. Slidding past the open gash where the front window had been the wing tore out the cash register, the cake display and the antique spice cabinet.

  Nobody screamed inside the cafe.

  Ellie kept her head firmly locked between her hands. She didn't want to look. She knew she'd been hurt. Her face and knees stung and throbbed. There was an eerie silence she dared not experience with any more senses. Gradually, trembling, she lowered her arms and lifted her head. She pushed herself up, sitting on her legs, choked sobs already rattling her trachea. There was a large gash on her forehead that was foaming blood. Her knees were destroyed, cut up beyond all shape, they resembled a broken open crabshell.

  She looked around at the chaos, disbelieving. The whole front of the cafe had been torn off, and the plane lay curled like a silver dragon at the end of the road, sleeping peacefully after a meal. Ellie saw no movement in the cafe, nor in the plane. The silence was so ridiculous she wanted to laugh at it.

  It was then as her gaze was drawn down the gap between where the tables used to be, that she saw him. Creamy jaw slacked and mouth hanging open, blood trailing down his chin. Jason. The sparkle still in his dead eyes. It hadn't quite faded yet. He'd been crushed when the cashier desk had toppled. Ellie crawled over to him, only to stare as she couldn't bare to touch. She didn't feel enough for him to cry.

  There was a quiet shuffling further down the in cafe and another contagion of fear hit her. Raw and sweaty. She continued to crawl through the broken tables. Over napkins blotted with crimson, bloodless limbs, twitching fingers, and gaping mouths filled with white mortar. And when she finally stood she wished she hadn't. She came to the table she had been sharing with Kate and Alex and a scream tore out her throat like a hook.

  Kate had been run through by a fat steel pipe. She had Alex clutched under her, in her arms, in an attempt to protect him. Shattered coins of light fell on her body through the destroyed ceiling, making the blood all that much redder, brighter, almost alive in itself. It crawled across the blue cotton of her shrug at a lazy pace. Ellie dropped to her knees, and did shed some purgatory tears for her friend.

  It was then, through the blur in her eyes, that she saw Alex move. He wriggled, clawed at the floor, and tried to drag himself out from under his mother's dead weight. Ellie gasped, saliva-heavy and still half blind. She helped pull him out and he dived into her arms without looking at her. Just needing comfort, just needing a mum. He buried his face into her shoulder and sobbed quietly. Tiny fists shaking for all the world. Ellie cried and turned her face into the tufts of his brown hair, stroking his back and whispering soothing words in his ears. Half for him and half for herself.

  Fire engines, ambulances and police cars soon swarmed around the wreckage. News cameras, too. They assumed no one in the cafe had survived, tending firstly to those sprawled about the pavement. Even with the sirens wailing outside, a reminder of human life, it was a long time before Ellie found the strength to stand again, but she did, cradling Alex against her chest.

  At 10:32 on Tuesday morning a woman stood up in the middle of the decimated cafe, holding a small toddler. They were the sole survivors of a Boeing 727 crash downtown. Paramedics quickly rushed in when they spotted the two and guided them out to the awaiting ambulances. Their wounds were treated then and there with the rest of the casualities at the scene.

  Ellie sat in the back of the ambulance, taking measly sips from the plastic cup in her hands.There was a huge slash from wrist to elbow on her arm, cutting right across her new tattoo. Ruining the pretty words. Only they didn't seem so pretty anymore. She had just wanted a new start, there was no time wasting, no wallowing in the misery, though god knows how sweet it felt. She'd made a move towards it, towards a new future. Now what was there?

  Her left arm ached from the wound, but her right grew suddenly warm as someone drew into it. Alex tucked himself into the place between her arm and her ribs and stayed there. Ellie found herself welling up with something deep and nurturing, a need. She put her arm around his podgy stomach, the other turning his head to her chest, and hugged him breakingly tight. They both howled with grief, loud and unrestrained, so the whole world could hear just what it sounds like to get what you wish for.

 
© Copyright 2011 Haytch (restlessdreams at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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