Don’t open that window, please…
By Alexandra Riera
© 2005 Alexandra Riera

It was only a small caffé. All the tables had a red tablecloth on them and a little yellow plastic flower in a hand painted yogurt glass placed in the centre. There wasn’t a menu nor a waitress, only a very old bartender reading a newspaper in a corner behind the bar who didn’t look as he wanted to be busy. If you wanted something you had to go in and ask for it and hope for the best. The best thing and the only thing the place had was the coffee, no wonder it was called the Italian Coffee Kaff.

“Hey Joe, were you really going to sell the place?” asked Sergeant Pete from his table.

“Yeah, it was getting too busy for my old age but I’ve changed my mind you know, I’m not selling it anymore.”

“You’re entitled to change your mind, but come off it Joe, you can’t call three customers a day a busy place.”

Joe put down the newspaper annoyed at this interruption. “It will be soon.”

“And why is that?”

“And you call yourself a policeman Pete? No wonder you’re being transferred!”

“Only to the office, my legs are no good anymore. I can’t run after vandals any longer. Two more years to go and I’ll move nearer the beach and fish everyday for the rest of my life.”

“Total bliss, hein Pete?”

“Yes and I suppose you’ll stay in the Kaff for ever and ever, right?”

“yeah”

Pete got up and carried his empty cup of coffee to the bar.

“you still haven’t told me why this place will be busy Joe.”

“Look around you Pete, look at all the new blocks of flats that are being built around here. How long do you think it will take for some big fat guy to come and tear my place down to make a big shopping centre in the middle of my toilet?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true, but what has your toilet got to do with it?”

Joe picked up his newspaper again and was suddenly lost in his own thoughts leaving Pete to make his own coffee, as usual.

Joe’s toilet had been a sanctuary for the past twenty-five years. It was filled with candles and all sorts of figures of virgin Maries. He went there to pray twice a day. That’s where he had lost his wife whilst she was giving birth to a little girl. He had hated the girl the moment she was born because his beloved Anabel was killed in the process. The girl was given to an orphanage the very next day. He couldn’t have looked after her, he wouldn’t have known how to. The main reason she was given away was that Joe couldn’t stand looking at the baby girl.

He had been alone ever since, refusing to even look twice at a woman. His loneliness brought out all his bitterness which he took out on customers of the once busy bar until the little caffé had just a few regulars who came in for a quick cup of coffee. Joe usually sat in a corner and watched how his few customers made themselves a cup of coffee.

His bitterness was gradually replaced by regret. He should have kept the girl he thought as his eyes went towards one of the pictures of Anabel that filled the room.

“Joe! Joe! Wake up! I’m still here!” Shouted Sergeant Pete as he tapped his cup with a spoon.

“Sorry Pete, I was a goner again” Then, when his eyes went towards the window he saw her and he suddenly turned white.

“Oh my God! It’s her Pete. Look!”

Sergeant Pete turned around and saw a young girl wrapped in foulards just outside the only window.
“She does look familiar, doesn’t she Joe?”

“It’s Anabel, Pete. It’s her. She’s come back”

Pete realised then that the girl outside the window was probably Joe’s daughter and as Joe jumped out from behind the bar, he grabbed him by the arm.
“Stop it Joe!. Don’t open that window, please. Don’t frighten her away.

Joe pulled out of Pete’s hand and ran towards the exit. When he opened the door a gust of wind came in blowing snowflakes on him and on to the floor.

“Anabel! My darling Anabel! You’re back! Come in right now before you catch a cold.”

Pete, seeing that Joe was a little deranged ran after him.

“Sorry madam. It’s alright. Don’t worry about Joe, he’s a good guy, just going through a rough time that’s all. Won’t you come in for a cup of coffee? I’ll buy”

As Joe stood by the girl’s side almost paralysed, Pete guided her inside and closed the door behind them when they were inside.

Pete pointed to the table by the window and they all sat down.

“The cup of coffee?” She asked.

“Oh! Sorry. I’ll just go and make some coffee” and as he got up she put her briefcase on the floor.

“My name is Margaret” she said.

“Mine is Joe” he replied still in a daze.

“Joe? Joe Couper?” She asked surprised.

“The one and only” replied Pete quietly.

“Oh!” was all she could say as all energy seemed to have left her all of a sudden.

Pete came back with the coffees and saw their ashen faces. Joe had a reason to feel weird, after all, he had thought this girl was his wife, but the girl?

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m Margaret Couper, He’s my father…I …. I thought he was dead.”

Joe jumped out of his chair. “My little girl?” He stammered as tears began to pour out of his eyes.
“I’m sorry, so sorry I let you go…” He said as they now hugged each other.

When the crying stopped, Pete told them to sit down again and explain a few things to him. What was she doing in the Kaff was a priority question.
“I was brought up in an orphanage and told that both my parents had died. I grew up and even went to university where I met Francis my husband. Together we made a lot of money exporting Italian shoes to different parts of the world. When I heard that this place was for sale, I told my husband that I wanted to buy it because that was the place I had recently found out I had been born.”

Joe slammed his fist on the table angrily “This place is not for sale! No way! No way anybody is going to build something on my toilet!”

“What?” she asked almost laughing.

Joe explained to her about the toilet and the sanctuary he had built for her mother and immediately after had to take her there to show her.

When they entered the room, Margaret was awed by the amount of mementos, images and candles that were there. She took hold of his hand and kneeled down to pray together for a little while.
Margaret prayed for the place. She wanted to buy it. Joe was praying that he could keep the place for ever and ever untouched.

When they finished their prayers they went back to the table where a fresh cup of coffee awaited them.

Margaret took Joe’s hands and whilst she held them she looked straight into his eyes. “I’d like you to sell me the Kaff, please. I’d like to keep it”

“Alright.”

Margaret took some documents from her briefcase and handed them to Joe for him to sign. When he had finished, she put them all back in her briefcase and said that she had to go because she still had a few other things to do before she could go back home.

They departed in tears.

One hour later, Margaret was back in her car. She took her mobile phone out of her bag and made a phone call.

“It’s done” she said into the receiver with a smile. “Get the architects to finish the last touches so that we can start building as soon as the demolition people finish their job.” She then sat back on the seat as she felt a weight lift off her. She had waited long for this.

The end
© 2005 Alexandra Riera
(1369 words)