cakes, a few couples wander in.
Going by the conversation of the couple I’m serving, they only met the night before at a club. “Would you like to share a couple of desserts with your coffee? I can recommend the panna cotta and semifreddo.” I smile, trying to melt the ice between the two. “Sometimes one is too much at this time of the day, but I could bring you two forks.”
“That would be great,” the guy says, and I can already see the cogs turning behind his eyes.
My chest puffs out ever so slightly as I make my way to the counter until the doorbell tingles, and I glance up to Reef and three other guys walking toward their usual table.
I suck in a quick breath to compose myself.
Reef slides into his seat with his back to the window. I bet he wears different coloured jocks for every day of the week.
He gives me a slight nod when I make my way toward their table.
“Morning, gentlemen. I don’t usually see you on a Sunday.”
“Reef tells us you have the best coffee in Adelaide.” A new guy grins at me.
The guy with the red mullet I recognise. “You already know that, right?” Mullet guy says.
“And the best biscotti,” the guy with dark hair adds. And what do you know, he also has blue eyes. How did I not notice because with Reef, I think this is my thing.
“We do. Usual coffee?” The men nod. “What can I get for you?” I ask new guy.
“Same as Reef. Skinny latte, lactose-free.”
He doesn’t need to reiterate. I know their orders like the back of my hand. “Any dessert or cake?”
Red mullet guy also orders the biscotti. Reef and his mate decline. Both on skinny lactose-free milk, I walk away considering their diet. It’s preseason and assume they’re watching carbs despite being lean and muscular.
Thankfully the restaurant fills quickly, and my thoughts are all about work. No time to worry about my father or time to glance over and listen to the mocking at my favourite table. It is only after the guys walk out and I head over to clean away the table, I see another napkin with a note under the sugar jar.
I tuck it away without reading it because I want to get through the day without being side-tracked. Besides, I might need cheering up tonight when I’m alone.
After visiting Dad in the hospital, coming home, and washing clothes, I’m grateful to know I can sleep-in on Monday.
Before heading to bed, I unfold the note from Reef and read it.
About that coffee?
You haven’t given me an answer.
If you don’t drink coffee perhaps a tequila shot?
You seem to like them.
I fold the note.
Cheeky bastard.
Waking up to a six o’clock alarm and knowing I don’t need to go to work instigates a long stretch before curling back in a ball.
When I rise, I take my time showering, tidying our small home, and sit down for a coffee. It’s quiet. No television blasts from the living room. No radio with sports announcements. I didn’t even tell Dad about meeting Chance or the coffee sessions with the footballers at Lombardi’s. Knowing he’ll be impressed puts a smile on my face.
The smile growing when I open Instagram to notifications from Reef and Chance. Both are now following me.
I walk into Dad’s room on the medical floor, and he is his usual bubbly self. “Here’s my girl,” he announces to the elderly man in the bed opposite.
He has a patch over his left eye. “Hello, beautiful,” the man says. “I might only have one eye, but I see well enough to know you don’t take after your old man here.”
“She has my brown eyes and my outlook on life,” Dad tells him.
“She’s in trouble if she enjoys life as much as you,” the old man jokes. “Don’t party hard to break a leg.”
“Or lose one,” the guy with a toothless grin says in the bed next to Dad’s.
“I told you ol’ buggers I lost my leg when I was truckin’.”
As a child, the day he stopped taking me for rides in his shiny chrome semi-trailer was like going to a carnival with no money.
I smile at him exchanging banter with these guys he’s just met as if they’ve been friends for years. “Even then, I struggled to slow Dad down,” I tell them. I drag a chair close to the bed and lean in to kiss his cheek
“Still got another leg, sweetheart.” He squeezes my hand.
“Any results,” I