Chapter 7: The Cafe of Aspirations

Excerpt: "Ah! What shame began to course, and thus began to pinch upon his blood!"

“ The Cafe of Aspirations”

The city in which Rose, Charles, and Robert dwelled was known as the City of S---. This city, perhaps to many may have seemed a common humdrum place. To Rose, the city was a grand utopia. 

The city was founded some two hundred years past. It’s founders had laid it out to resemble the masonic emblem. The city was intermixed evenly; with modern facilities along with buildings of rich, historical culture. Interestingly enough, once one had left the  masonic emblem, ( the downtown area ), it became a modern shopping wonder. Many shopping outlets and restaurants suiting all kinds of tastes were laid out at least for a good mile or two.

Rose loved the rich historical downtown more than anything. Most all the buildings were historically refurbished, and had the most charming, and sometimes most peculiar looking architecture. There were many antique shops. Rose’s most favorite was Violets; a small antique store that sold old books, toys and jewelry at reasonable prices. Violet would often negotiate well on prices, which made the buying experience a lot better. ( For books, it certainly did keep Rose coming back.) On the same street was another antique store. It was quite large, and rented out to various people who would set up tiny venues to sell there goods. On the opposite side of the street was the grand state theatre, which recently had reopened after closing, yet not to long. None of these places were to far from the water. Downtown S---  wasn’t that far from S-- Bay. The sidewalks were splendid for leisurely walks down the waterfront. There was a fish foundry upon that waterfront, which made the most mouth watering deep fried fish. Rose’s most favorite place however, besides the antique stores was the small cafe called Mrs. Anderson’s.

The cafe was very modern, but at the same time cordial, and very family friendly. It’s entire atmosphere was one made up of a creative entity, relaxed, it also gave an appeal of the times many decades ago. Fashioned both of modern and vintage to a ideal balance.

One would walk into two doors, and be met by a narrow passage that held two antique metal tables and a pair of matching chairs, if they were to walk further upward they would be met by a second pair of double doors. Upon opening them one would find themselves to have entered a both relaxing, but at the same time engaging cafe. Several round wooden tables laid about the place with two to three sturdy black chairs per each table. Their were two comfortable couches, one sitting in a corner of each side of the place. There was also a book shelf, that held a few reference books, magazines, and novels. The entire place was carpeted, with deep somber red and blue shades. 

The real feast, however, wasn’t to the stomach. It was to the eyes, ( though the sandwiches were best in town.) The entire establishment was decorated, on one wall, with old coffee bean bags of colossus size. On another was coffee memorabilia; both old, and new clocks that made some sort of reference to coffee hung on that wall, and so did many other things, ( but the narrator makes only a reference to the clocks, for they were most interesting ). What lay against another wall were two large china cabinets, filled with old coffee pots, and an assortment of elegant china cookwares. The real treasure, however were the paintings. The walls of the cafe were adorned with them. All modern styled, they were simply engaging and beautiful, of course, their was always one or two that seemed astray, but that mattered not the slightest. What was so wonderful about these paintings is that they were all painted by local artists, and they were all for sale. A little card was hung up next to each one, giving both the name of the artist, and the asking price.

Rose loved coming to this cafe. Their sandwiches were phenomenally fresh. This cafe was well known for appeasing the appetites of everyone. They had a rather large menu of soups, sandwiches, and other small luncheon plates especially made for vegetarians and vegans. Also, ( and the narrator shall add that this was Rose’s real favorite ) they had, also, a few varieties of warm chicken wraps and paninis. Rose loved the grilled chicken club panini, she ordered it with a side of cottage cheese, and an orange cream soda. Mrs. Anderson's was quite renowned for their selection of fresh brewed coffees, teas, and a selection of old fashioned fountain sodas.

On this day, a blithe wind was amusing itself around Rose. She felt happy, and cheerful on this day, but apparently for no reason. Rose saw it as her “Papa” was visiting her especially. The fluttering she felt in her chest was him hugging her soul. It warmed her heart, and her being very much. Though the weather grew colder, as the season of summer began to depart, one would have thought after seeing Rose on this very day that it was the preamble to spring. 

Rose had been walking, or literally ‘bouncing’ all about downtown S---. She was by herself, truthfully speaking, but one couldn’t have said that to her, she was far from being lonesome, she knew certainly that her Papa was there with her on this particular day. Blithe joy encompassed her being as she skipped into Mrs. Anderson’s coffee house..

At the same time, there was a gentleman, who, just as Rose was about to walk into the coffee house, was seated inside awaiting his warm bowl of soup. The meanwhile he was taking small sips of his freshly brewed coffee of a rare bean. This man, of course, was none other than Charles. He was contentedly unaware that anyone of his acquaintance, ( or Rose especially ) was going to come “skipping” into the cafe at any moment as he was sitting there. Actually, he was quite unaware of anything that was transpiring before him.  Today Charles was in a perpetual daydream. As he awaited for his soup he barely even took notice of his newspaper that was laid before him. 

He slowly became mesmerized by all that occurred outside, that he watched through a window of the cafe. He noticed nonchalantly that the trees were really beginning to shed themselves of their overbearing leaves. Seemingly, though the leaves cared not as they jostled one another down the side walk, accompanied by the playful wind. The wind, too was also making merry fun with some garbage that someone had negligently tossed into the street.

Charles didn't know how much time had elapsed, he awoke from his reverie when, from his standpoint seemed like the door of the establishment had swung open, and bounded in an ecstatically smiling lady, that swung herself over to his table. 

Rose had, unintentionally, nearly startled him out of his wits end, however he remained composed. 

Rose had calmed down, and smiled at Charles warmly. “ Mr. Williams, it is good to see you again, it’s been a long time, no?”

Charles held his cup of coffee close to his chin, he raised his eyebrows scrutinizing Rose, he had no recollection of her. He thought this young woman as quite mad.

Rose caught this, she too, raised her eyebrows, however, pitifully at him. She pulled out a chair out from under Charles’s table and sat. The two didn’t remove their unwavering gaze from one another.

“ Remember a few months ago at the library--” Rose began, “ You were looking at the used books, and I had happened to come up behind you. I inquired of that stamp pressed into that book, you showed me a picture of Mr. Martin??”

Charles thought with immense difficulty, for a second he had even closed his eyes. His memory was vague. He remembered however, speaking to a rather energetic young lady at the library several weeks ago, perhaps this was her?

“ You are Rose, aren’t you? He asked.

Rose smiled broadly, “ yes, ah! So you do remember Mr. Williams, I am glad!”

“ Mr. Williams, your soup.” Rose and Charles turned their heads up, Mr. Anderson himself was bringing Charles his meal.

Mr. Anderson placed the bowl down, he looked at Rose oddly, than turned his head toward the counter where the prepared orders were placed by the cook.

“ Did your daughter order anything Mr. Williams?”

Rose blushed, Charles stuttered; “ No, no sh-she isn’t my daughter..” He paused briefly, “ just an acquaintance.”

Mr. Anderson laughed, and then gently tapped his forehead, “ Duh, Rose. I am sorry!” ( Mr. Anderson and his wife knew all their number one customer’s names by heart.)

Rose’s cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, she chuckled. Rose was far more flattered than embarrassed, even though she wasn’t yet very well acquainted with Charles.

Correcting himself, Mr. Anderson asked with a broad smile, “ What will you be having Rose? Or have you already ordered?”

Rose returned his smile with a small chuckle: “ I’ll just have an orange cream soda..”

As Mr. Anderson began to walk towards the kitchen, that is when she caught herself: “Please!”

In response, Mr.Anderson friskily twirled his self around and ‘okayed’ her with a whisk of his finger before spinning around again and heading back again toward the kitchen.

Charles chuckled at all of this as he sipped his coffee. He briefly glanced his eyes up toward her, and that was at the same time that Rose had turned herself around. she peered back at him.

She tilted her head rather childishly, “ Mind is I sit here Mr.Williams?”

Charles shrugged his shoulders, “ I’ll be leaving in a few moments, so I don’t care.”

Upon Charles behalf, he assumed that Rose, although he vaguely began to recall the time when she sputtered correctly the names of all those composers, thought of her just as one of those peppy, annoying teenagers. Surely, in a moment she would be bored of his company, and quickly as she had surged in, she would flood out. Anyways, at the particular moment Charles was quite annoyed with her presence, but, just over the course of a few seconds, with no conversation transpiring between them, and Rose with her attention far adrift Charles thought repeatedly upon his own self: “I can leave soon, yes, yes.”

Charles had many chances to leave, Rose’s attention was far from her actual person, but he stayed. Charles fairly began to notice that Rose, lost her daydream looking at all the things in Mr. Anderson’s coffee shop, appeared to look at those things with a sincere interest, greeting the objects she liked best with a real smile.

Mr. Anderson had brought over her orange cream soda.

Rose shook herself out of her reverie: “Thank you Mr. Anderson.” She removed her purse from her overcoat and from that removed her pocketbook. Rose handed two dollars to Mr. Anderson. 

“ Thank-you!” Mr.Anderson replied with a bow of his head.

Rose looked upon him and smiled, then she turned back to Charles. And too, smiled at him.

Charles smirked at her in return. He remembered, just at that moment that he hadn’t even begun to sip at his soup, he couldn’t leave just yet. He wished yet that Rose would make an effort to, she had but just a single orange cream soda.

However, Rose remained seated. As Charles began to raise his spoon to his lips he hesitated, and inadvertently glanced at Rose.

Rose caught this; “ Is that a good soup Mr. Williams?”

“ I wouldn’t know,” Charles replied hastily. “ As I’ve never had a chance to try it.”

Charles caught Rose off guard at how pronounced so boldly that he’d never had a chance to try it.

“ I am sure it is delicious!” She exclaimed enthusiastically, nodding her head slightly.

Charles rolled his eyes, “thus began..” He thought.

“ I don’t fancy soup,” Rose began, but she caught herself. “ Oh! Not that there soups are bad or anything, it is just that I am not so particularly fond of soups, you see. Certainly though, that one you have there looks delicious, yes. But, I haven’t an appetite for soup, you see.

Charles thought to himself,  “ My, my.. Can that girl sputter endlessly about herself!”  he did not pay a bit of attention to Rose, as she blathered on and on.

Rose had ceased talking, now her shyness was closing in on her. She peered out from one of the windows. It was eerily dark outside, but it hadn’t even passed four-thirty yet. It wasn’t that the sun had settled, rather but the beginning of one of those nasty chilly fall storms had arrived, and was apparently ready for a grand gala.

Seeing Rose’s attention had drifted afar again, Charles brought out a pair of black rimmed pair reading glasses from his shirt pocket and set them on himself, picked up his newspaper and began to read it while beginning to spoon his soup. However, no sooner than he began to eat, and read Rose darted back around. Charles heard her, and unconsciously glanced up. He turned his head toward the outside, a real storm had blown over which made him wince. Rose looked outside again.

“ I like listening to Beethoven when it’s storming.”

“ I’ll listen to anything but a storm.” 

The reader shall notice, this was the first real sentence of any sincerity Charles had related to Rose.

Rose turned her head, “ You don’t like storms, Charles? They do not fascinate to you?”

Charles continued to look outside, “ No, a long time ago; yes, they did. Not now.”

“ You are frightened of them then?” asked Rose.

“ There are more important things in this world to be frightened of then a petty storm, but they do not help.”

“ Ah, ‘tis true!” ( Yes, Rose did really say ‘ tis’ ).

Charles continued looking at the storm; he hadn’t really paid much attention to their conversation. Charles slowly came out of his daydream, and noticed promptly that he had almost opened up to this lady, well,. To Charles, Rose was more of a child than anything else.

Ah! What shame began to course, and thus began to pinch upon his blood!

Charles picked up his soup spoon, his peppery eyebrows wrinkled; “ Rose, how do you propose that you will be getting home?”

Rose shrugged, “ I walked here from my Aunt’s house, she went out to Krogers. I don’t think she’ll be out for a while..” Her voice tapered off.

Charles nodded his head, now sipping his coffee.

A gloomy aura suddenly took Rose ahold. Charles looked at her, as she turned to look out the window again. 

When Charles looked, he saw that Rose’s eyes appeared most swelled with helplessness. However, reader. Only yourself shall know that this was not so, Rose had a particular, and entirely unconscious way about her of casting a sadden look upon herself when something was as too Rose as it shouldn’t be. Such as it storming when she hadn’t a ride home.

Charles, much unknown to himself, was a very sympathetic person. And we too shall learn more of this as our journey with them continues.

Much against Charles’s being, seeing Rose as he did, he commenced and asked her: “ Will you weather the storm here?”

Rose turned, “ ah, they close in fifteen minutes.”

Charles peered out the window carefully. The storm had changed from just a playful dog to a savaged wolf. In fact it was so black from the clouds that the eyes could hardly distinguish any light of life beyond the vague outlines of trees that were scraping helplessly against the window and door of the little cafe.

“ Would you like me to take you home Rose? Surely, you couldn’t get ahold of your aunt?”

Rose pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, and shook her head. “No, my phones dead, and I don’t my aunt’s number by heart..”

Charles hastily thought about what he had gotten himself into now. Well, as he thought, he couldn’t let this child down.

He sighed with great agitation. “ Well let us leave now.” He bolted from his seat, this slightly startled Rose, as a loud crack of thunder infiltrated the sky at the apropos moment. 

Charles, however was thinking something along the line of: ‘ I just offered a teenager a ride home, what have I gotten myself into? What will she expect next?? These kids are so rude these days...’

Chiefly, Charles’s objective was to leave Rose wherever she wanted to go, hopefully in return he wouldn’t ever have the burden of seeing her again...