Short Story: A Moment in Time
Holly nervously twisted a stray thread from her scarf around her finger as she waited. She was sitting by the front window of the small coffee shop, watching busy shoppers strut up the high street with fists of paper shopping bags. He was fifteen minutes late now. She knew he always ran a half hour behind but she was hoping that just this once, Ben would respect her time.
She let the thread fall and wound her fingers around the mug, letting warmth pierce her flesh and melt away the tension from her always cold hands. She took a small sip, knowing it was a bad idea considering the fluttering of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Down the street, she could see his brown hair bobbing over the crowd of shoppers before he reached the door. At least his pace was brisk, she thought. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to be late.
Ben bounded inside the coffee shop sending a chilly gust of wind through the room and up the exposed flesh on Holly’s neck. She resisted the urge to pull her pink scarf closer to shield herself from the cold and from the man who she used to glow at the sight of. She rose from her seat and greeted him with an awkward side hug that sent her face straight into his armpit. “Hi Ben, would you like to sit down?” She asked. Her voice sounded strong and clear even though she felt anxious at their meeting. It had been over a year since they’d seen each other face to face, after all. “Yeah, I’m gonna grab a coffee first though. Can I get you anything?” He asked. “No, I have mine.” She nodded toward her cup on the small table. “Right.” He said as he turned back toward the till.
Holly slid back into her seat to wait, fighting the urge to touch up her lipstick or comb through her brown curls with her fingertips. She straightened her spine and waited, her coffee warming the palms of her hands again. It was comforting to hold something warm, to give it her attention so she wouldn’t have to think of Ben even though he was right in front of her. She’d gone over this moment — this long-awaited meeting — thousands of times in her head. She knew what she’d say, how she would feel but now the moment was here, Holly couldn’t recall all the fantastic one-liners she had quipped and queued up in her mind or the eloquent phrases she’d use to express herself, her healing, her triumph over the loss of their marriage.
Ben returned to their table carrying a coffee in one hand and a plate with a single croissant in the other. She avoided looking at the croissant now sitting between them, an omen to the past. He used to buy them one to share every Saturday morning after their run. Things were different now and she certainly didn’t want their hands to accidentally brush against each other as they reached to pick off pieces like they had on distant Saturday mornings.
“So, what’s new? You look great!” Ben asked as he sat down. He was cheery and upbeat. His dark blue eyes were earnest but they always looked earnest, even when he was lying. “I feel great.” Holly didn’t want to sound as severe as she did, she didn’t want him to think she hadn’t moved on, or that his betrayal still wore at the threads of her confidence. She cleared her throat, reached into the oversized bag lying at her feet and pulled out a manila envelop. “We should probably address the elephant in the room.” She said as she handed it to Ben. “Right.” He said for the second time.
Holly fished around in her bag for a pen before she heard a click and glanced up to see Ben had already pulled his trusted Parker from his shirt pocket. He began leafing through the documents, barely reading them before initialing. While he was preoccupied, Holly took time to study him. The lines at the sides of his eyes had grown deeper, his complexion was tanned as if he’d recently been on holiday.
“I think that’s it then.” Ben said as he made a final signature on the last page and returned the stack of documents to the envelope. He sealed it and handed it back to Holly, looking her in the eyes as she took it from him and placed it back in her bag. He leaned back in his chair comfortably and took a long, slow sip of coffee. Mirroring Ben, Holly leaned back into her own chair, letting her guard down just a bit. A year’s worth of therapy coming to use.
“You look tan. Have you been on holiday?” Holly asked, trying to sound conversational. It was awkward, the conversation still felt forced. “Yeah, Sophie and I spent two weeks in Portugal. It was amazing. Have you been?” There was an awkward beat between them. Ben knew Holly hadn’t been to Portugal. She rarely spent time outside of the UK and if she did, it was to see her father in America. “No, I haven’t. I’d love to go someday.” It was true. Holly had a list of places she wanted to go but her list of to-dos was even greater. She didn’t want to take the obvious route in conversation and ask about Sophie. Oddly, it still hurt. Though she had come to terms with Ben’s affair, she didn’t see how he could go on to a successful monogamous relationship. It’s not your problem anymore, she reminded herself.
The sun began its decent behind the tall buildings on the other side of the road, casting the clear sky into a deeper shade of indigo. Holly wondered at the time and how much longer they would have to spend reaching for “safe” topics. “I went to your new bakery in central. It’s amazing, Holl. Congrats!” He said earnestly. “Thank you, it’s been a hell of a year and so much good has come from it.” She felt relieved at the turn in conversation. Her success was something easier to talk about than Sophie. “Any plans for another?” Ben asked. It was a simple question but reminded Holly of the unexpected path life had led her down. Two bakeries in London was never the plan but after the viral success of her cookbook, setting up shop was the natural next step. She fought off memories of window shopping baby clothes or wishing to paint the tiny upstairs bedroom in a soft, pastel shade. “I’m quite happy with two for now.” She said, feigning a laugh.
“Well, no doubt whatever you decide to do, you’ll be great at it.” Ben looked down into the depths of bitter, black liquid in his mug, a stain of pink touching his cheeks. Holly watched the shade darken into burning red, again wondering at time. She studied him how you might study the beauty of a marble sculpture in a gallery, with distant reverence, admiring the soft curve of his cheek and severe line of his jaw but feeling nothing deeper. How long had it been since Ben blushed in her presence? He looked so different than he did when they met at twenty. Her eyes moved down to the faint lines at the corner of his lips, smile lines. She’d always appreciated smile lines.
The avenues of conversation were limited. Holly didn’t dare ask about work or home, knowing perfectly well that all roads led back to Sophie. All roads led back to the breaking up of their marriage. She allowed herself to melt into silence and whatever uncomfortable feelings were held there. She didn’t reach for small talk or reminisce on the shared failure of their past. Her mug had cooled between her palms before she spoke. “I have a confession to make,” A slight smile played at the corners of her lips. “I’ve always hated the coffee here.” Their eyes met and Ben laughed, “Me too.”
