Back then, as I sat there, my legs shaking nervously beneath the table, it was crystal clear. I had done something to make myself unwelcome.
Not that I cared about being liked. But that feeling… the thought that you had done something wrong without knowing what, it just gnaws and nibs at you, slowly pulling you closer towards with every breath you take. And as such, slowly turning your mind into never ending spirals.The way he simply overlooked me. The fact that nothing was said when he brought me the coffee.
The sensation that everything felt just slightly off, like I no longer quite belonged in it.
I never truly belonged here anyway, nor to anywhere else. But I always felt like people at least tolerated me. However now…it felt like this wasn't a given anymore and that I wasn't even allowed here anymore.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
The truth couldn't have been further from it. It was hidden far beyond my narrow, self-contained way of thinking. Still, the longer I sat there, the heavier that feeling became. It settled somewhere deep, turning into something close to disgust. Not toward the café, not toward the old man… but rather toward myself. My thoughts spiraled, looping over and over, each one feeding the next like flames engulfing one another.
Did I say something wrong?
Did I come at a bad time?
Was I too silent when greeting him… or too distant?
Did I forget to do something?
The questions came faster than I could answer them. And none of them led anywhere.
Eventually, I exhaled and pushed my chair back.
Enough.
I placed my hands on the table, ready to stand, ready to leave. To step back out into the cold and not come back for a while. Or ever for that matter.
Not because I had the grit to stop drowning in my misery anymore, but rather because I couldn't bear to sit there anymore.
"I'll pay—" I began, turning slightly toward the counter.
Clack.
The sound of wood hitting the ground cut me off mid-sentence. The broom—the one the old man had rested on next to the counter—fell onto the floor, its hilt rolling slightly before coming to a stop.
The old man had knocked it over as he moved, almost stumbling in his haste, and was already halfway to the door before I realized something had fallen. It wasn't the slow and careful way of dragging his feet over the ground just ever so slightly, that I was used to. But rather something urgent. Almost desperate. I had never seen him walk like that, nor had I ever seen his face hold so many expressions at once. Just moments ago it was so empty, and yet somehow unexplainable, it now carried a faint shimmer of something alive, as if his very soul has returned from the mourning.
Hope, unmistakable, breaking through the deep creases of his skin, forming at edge of his cheeks as a consequence of his wide and grateful smile.
And beneath it, there was something else.
Fear.
It showed in the way those same creases trembled ever so slightly, in the faint quiver along his jaw, in the way his lips partly opened but never quite formed a word. His eyes, glossy now, struggled to hold steady, a thin layer of tears started gathering without yet falling. A small and dry sound escaped those same lips. As if he had tried to speak, to call out a name, but it got stuck somewhere in his throat, refusing to come out. It never became a word. Just that faint, broken sound, caught somewhere between his breath and voice.
His hands, trembling in what it seemed like to me in disbelief, reached out into the empty air, stretching toward the door.
Through the window, just beyond the glass, I caught movement in the courtyard.
It was his wife, the old woman.
She stepped forward slowly, guiding a young girl by the hand. She was no older than eleven, maybe twelve. The girl walked carefully, each step she took was feeble, giving of the feeling that each movement itself was unsteady, as if her legs didn't quite obey her.
Similar to how a newborn just taking their first few steps.
But then she looked up.
"Grandpa!"
Her voice was bright. Too bright for how weak her steps had been just seconds ago. She let go of the old woman's hand and made her way forward, half walking, half stumbling, a little unsteady as well, but smiling like none of that mattered.
The old man didn't stop.
He reached her in seconds, kneeled in front of her with one leg and placed both of his hands on her shoulders, holding her there, as if afraid she might disappear if he didn't tack her down. For a minute he simply looked at her. His eyes moved over her face, searching, almost counting every detail, as if trying to make sure she was real, that nothing was missing, that she was truly standing in front of him.
Again, his mouth moved slightly, as it seemed he was trying once more to form the right word. However nothing but a faint stutter came. Half-formed word that never made it past his lips.
"I'm okay," she said, a small laugh slipped through her tiny voice, as she seemed a little breathless. "See? I'm okay."
He didn't answer. He didn't have to, she knew what was going through his head as he simply gave her the warmest, most gentle grin I had ever seen. His eyes were narrowing, almost closing to the point were they were barely open. And in that split second just before his smile reached the edge of his cheeks, just to then turn into a tragic frown and his eyes fully giving in, just before they shut and the dam of tears began to break, she could feel it clearly. His deep love.
With that, he pulled her into his chest, pressing her against him as much as he could without hurting her fragile body. His chest yielded as he held her, and a long, deeply heavy breath left him, the kind that seemed to carry a massive burden with it, as though a weight had finally lifted off of him. His whole body followed suit, as his shoulders dropped almost onto her and the tension in his body leaving him all at once, yet his arms only tightened around her, holding on as if he never wanted to let go. The old woman joined them a moment later, her hand rested gently on the girl's back, and even her expression softened in a way I hadn't seen before.
And then something in the old man gave way, as if everything that had been holding him together suddenly collapsed the second he felt her entire delicate body in his arms.
It wasn't loud, nor was it dramatic.
Maybe it was the air around him that shifted. Or maybe he had simply reached his limit. However that was of no matter.
Because I could feel it—his true, unfiltered emotions, finally giving way.
Everything he had been holding in was spilling out at once, real and downright undeniable. And with it, all my own restless thoughts that tormented me, all the worries circling in my head, simply… fell silent.
My attention shifted entirely to him. Every part of my consciousness leaned in to absorb it. I was caught, completely and in my entirety, as if under a spell.
It's hard to put into words what I saw, because in these few seconds, I felt more present than I have ever before.
His hands trembled where they held her. It wasn't just light tremor, but more of a catalyst, starting there and strong enough that it carried itself throughout his whole body. Soon enough even his knees started to shake. His grip tightened without him noticing, his fingers pressed into the fabric of her coat.
A sound, almost tormented by something, slipped from him.
"Hnn—"
It was low and quiet, almost too subtle to be noticed.
Broken.
His lips moved again, trying to form it, trying to say something—anything at all—but all that came was that same fractured sound.
"Hh—nngh"
His eyes blurred. Yet this time, the tears didn't hold back.
They didn't come with any sobs. They didn't shake him nor did they break him. They simply arrived silently, without announcing themselves. One drop after another until soon his face was masked by waterfall, as though it was trying to blur all the woe and sorrow underneath.
He didn't wipe them away. He didn't even care to notice.
Just that raw and unhinged letting free of everything he'd been holding in. All the love. All the fear. All the relief. It all came out, right there and then, and he let it.