Page 10 of Sorry, We're Closed

Days where I’m not alone behind this counter are rare. Mother turns up hours after I have opened, donning a pair of dark blue jeggings, a white blouse smothered in wrinkles and a stain over the breast, and a dark blue gem on a rope around her neck.

Her hair is strangled by a scrunchie into a bun on top of her head, with frayed strands attempting to frame whatever face she decides to wear today. On closer inspection, mascara has smeared along her lower eyelids and a dark red lipstick overlines her thin lips – that lipstick is going to plaster everything.

No matter how many hot drinks I make, how much steam is released from the wands of the coffee machine, no matter how much of the morning sun pours through our windows, nothing could combat the frost ever-growing on this counter. Even with what this café stands for between my mother and me – with what I caused within our family – I still somehow love it here.

I designed its entire aesthetic from the colour of the walls to the decor that hung around, to the menu we served. Yet somehow, she had decided there and then, sincehisdeparture, that she wanted nothing to do with the family business anymore, that was until she saw me stood behind the counter, the evening before I had planned to open, as a surprise for her, for us. I wanted to use this café to piece together whatever family we have left, but it was never seen that way through her cold eyes.

Whenever we’re here together, she dominates the front counter while I become a part of the machinery. I create all the orders while she bends over the counter and locks eyes with whoever will give her the time of day. I had grown used to being shoved in the background while a random bloke is placed on a pedestal, front and centre.

The front door sends a rippling ringing throughout the café with every customer entering and exiting. They are met with the many versions of Tracey Sombre, whether she’s flirtatious; sisterly, judgemental, bored, it depends on how you can benefit her.

“Well, hi there, Emily. How are you? How’s your mother doing?”

I peer over my shoulder to see who’s instantly won my mother’s approval – a beautiful woman who couldn’t be much older than me. Long, layered brunette hair gracefully sits on her shoulders with an even, golden tan all over. A shining smile spreads across her face, and a sprinkle of freckles spread over her cheeks, moving the rose gold nose ring which sits so delicately.

She’s dressed in a white strap top with pink flowers patterned across her hourglass figure, and leggings which appear to have been made just for her. Her hands are pretty – if hands can even be described in that way – with a lick of baby pink polish on her nails. Her hand sits inside Mother’s which are dry, cracked with chipping, red polish. I run my fingers over my bland nails, wishing for a shine of colour.

“Oh, Miss Sombre, we are both well, thank you!”

“That’s great, darling! How’s the vet training going?”

I feel my chest tighten as my mother calls Emily one of the many words I have been begging to hear for years.Darling.

“Tough, but amazing! I got a practically perfect exam result back on my birthday!”

They proceed to laugh and chat while I make the caramel and vanilla latte that Emily ordered which is far too sweet for me. I need layers.

I couldn’t even turnaround from the back wall before her chilling fingers wrap around the drink, weakening my grasp to hand it over to Emily.

“Sawyer’s twentieth just went past. I would’ve loved for some miracle like that to happen to him.”

No, you wouldn’t have.

I spent my birthday here while someone else’s father was in our house. I cooked breakfast for the two of them because my mother told him I did it all the time, and I didn’t say a word. Neither of them knew it was my birthday.

Emily’s chocolate hair is thrown over her shoulder as she waves goodbye and wishes us both a great day, her emerald eyes meeting mine as she winks with that smile and leaves. I begin to wipe the back bench while there’s a moment of quiet within the café.

“I know Emily through her mum. Emily is an amazing young woman.”

I know exactly where this is going. I pray and keep myself quiet, something I should’ve done a long time ago.

“You know she's studying to be a vet?”

I heard.

“I’m going to set you two up, she will teach you a thing or two.”

I pause, this is not a conversation I want to have in public. She knows exactly what she is doing, and I can’t fight it. Shit.

“Please, you can’t set us up.”

She leans against the counter, her arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes narrow as they meet mine.

“Why not? I can’t see any reason why she wouldn’t be perfect for you.” She cocks her head to the side, a dumb expression written all over her face.

“Mother, you know why. It would not be fair on Emily.”

She straightens her back and steps towards me, and immediately I back away until my behind is pressing into the back bench, her glare piercing down on me. She’s always had a bit more height on me as I just about meet her neck, the overpowering stench of cigarettes masking with floral perfume lining my nose.

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