At Café Liffey

   

                                                                                

An unconventional day. The sun was shining brightly in the otherwise gloomy winter morning in Dublin, when I saw her for the first time working in a café next to the river Liffey. No, she wasn’t the prettiest girl I had ever seen, but there was something magnetic about her to make me order another cup of coffee and a croissant, just so I could sit there and gaze at her for longer...  She wore blue denim dungarees over a bright red jumper with red converse shoes; her hair was sloppily tied up into a pony that wriggled out of her cap that read ‘Café Liffey’.  She hopped from one table to another placing coffee, tea and hot chocolate from a big tray that boogied on the palm of her hand.

She had light green eyes, which appeared hazel from a distance. I noticed them the next day as I ordered the same coffee as the previous day. I paid her six pounds for the coffee, went, and sat on my table. The table was right in the corner of the café, a big glass window on one side, a fireplace right next to it and gave a perfect view of the rest of the café. I sat there for the next 6 hours looking at her, pretending to be reading “Love Story” by Erich Segel.  I ordered seven cups of coffee that day, ended up paying fifty-four pounds, but it was all worth it.

“Six pounds, your balance from yesterday.”  She said to me looking at the notepad she carried around to take orders, very aloof of my existence or my interest in her. Those were her first words to me. 

“Deduct them from the bill.” I told her, not knowing what else to say.

“So, what do you want?” she asked me, still staring at the notepad.  ‘….I want to take you out on a date’ is what I wanted to say, “One cappuccino, please.” Is what I said. She scribbled the order and went towards the counter as I sat still in my chair blushing at the thought of my first conversation with her.

I saw her the next day, and the day after that, and the one after that and then again till my very last day in Ireland. I didn’t know her name; she didn’t wear a badge like waitresses usually do, so I called her the ‘Converse Girl’. By the end of my trip, I Had become a regular at the cafe, everyone working there had assumed the corner table to be reserved for me between one to five p.m. and the ‘Converse Girl’ knew what coffee I liked, and how I liked it.

 My fifteen-day long holiday in Ireland had come to an end, and so far all I knew about her was that she owned six pairs of converse of different colors, five jumpers of the same kind but of different colors, a few pairs of dungarees that she wore every day, and that she was a good waitress.  On my last day in Dublin, I went to the café one last time, with my mind set on asking her out for a date that night.

I wore my favorite shirt and expensive perfume that day.  Left my hotel with a smile, no correction- a grin on my face, purchased fresh Orchids and Lilies wrapped in a cute bouquet and danced my way to ‘Café Liffey’. I sat on my favorite table in the cozy corner and waited for ‘My Converse Girl’ to come with her notepad in her hand. But she didn’t…

I first saw him on a boring cold day in ‘Café Liffey’ in Dublin. No, he wasn’t this breathtaking, handsome man one would see, but he did make me wish he’d stay there for longer, maybe have another cup of coffee. And he did. My heart jumped like a spring every time I walked up to his table to take his order. Oh! How I wish I wasn’t wearing my despicable dungarees and those cloudy converse.  I could feel his eyes stuck on me, which made me restless while serving coffee. I almost dropped the tray twice as the mugs jived on it.

I saw him again the next day, in the café. He sat on the table in the corner, next to the fireplace and the big window. He ordered seven mugs of cappuccino that day, and read my favorite novel- The Love Story. I fell deeper in love with him at the sight of that book in his hand.

‘’Cappuccino, please. ’- those were his first words to me. I think he was smiling then, but I was too nervous to look at him, I kept staring at my notepad, trying to look engrossed in my work. His bill amounted to fifty-four pounds, he paid sixty and he was gone when I came back with the change.  I went home that day and emptied my closet to look for something nice to wear, but all I had were dungarees, jumpers, jeans, and Converse.  I’d exhausted my monthly allowance and there wasn’t a chance in hell my mother would give me money to go shopping. Therefore, I turned up at work looking as lousy and stupid as ever, the next day.

Thereafter, he visited the café every day and sat there for hours together reading books. My girlfriends said he liked one of us at the café, each one of us wished it were they. So did I.

I finally got my monthly allowance after thirteen days of seeing him at the café and trying to make ‘small talk’ with him. I took a day off that day and went shopping with my best friend.  We bought  fancy clothes, new chic shoes and accessories for me.

The next day, I got up early and spent an hour singing in the shower. I wore my new clothes, made my hair, stole my sister’s make up and wore my mom’s perfume. I reached the café before my shift was to start. I made up my mind; I had to tell him what I felt for him before any of the other girls did.

I waited at the café all morning, and then the afternoon and soon the evening passed by, I even waited after my shift got over. But he never came…