"The Tapestry of Us" P1

 Stephen was staring  at the ceiling wondering when will be his order would ring up, It's been almost 30 minutes since he stepped inside the Café. The black coffee served here tastes like any other black coffee in town, but it’s not the coffee that keeps Stephen in his seat; it’s the feeling. The feeling he experienced getting coffee from the counter with his Father when he was little, his father's hard yet comfortable hand wrapped around his tiny hand. His urge to stay and savor the aroma was stronger than the annoyance of the long wait. It's been a Decade since he visited this shop, after his old man passed away, both he and his mother moved North. It's a first time in while he is visiting the café.

"One Black Coffee" finally a waitress in red apron brought his order to the table.

He wiped his watery eyes and took a sip from his cup. He took out his laptop and opened the University's homepage. He never thought he would even secure a place at the same college where his father once taught. When he was a Kid he always dreamt of winning the football cup for his University team. Literature is not something Little Stephen loved, he was always ended up bad in that subject. His mother felt that he was blessed with the talent in Football, but she was shocked when he told her that he is going to be an English Professor just like his Dad. He is not gifted. He had to put extra work on his studies compared to his pal's. But those things never mattered to him; at the end of the day, he believed he was destined to become a professor.

Time passed and when the coffee disappeared he got ready to leave the coffee shop and that's when he bumped into a woman quarter his size and lost the laptop to the newly fixed marble floor. He was furious, not because of the machine, but because he was already on the brink of exploding, and then this happened.

"Where the hell did you come from? Can you please move aside?" he shouted. Deep down he knows it was not for the laptop, He needed to shout. He wanted to shout at anyone: the cashier who kept asking for change, the loud woman blabbering behind him on her phone, the waitress who brought his coffee. He wanted to shout at them all, but he remained quiet. He couldn't close his mouth when all of universe trying to mess with his brunch.

"I am sorry, I didn't know you were getting up. I am sorry" the woman's voice nearly broke but somehow she kept composed.

Stephen was sorry the instance he turned at her direction, 'what have I done' he thought for himself, his anger became regret. The woman in the wheelchair kept apologizing to him. She picked up his laptop from the ground and checked for any damages.

"I am sorry, I can pay you for the damages, I am terribly sorry" she handed him the laptop, just then Stephen found that the screen was splintered. Stephen said nothing as he walked out of the café, never looking back or hearing the murmurs exchanged inside the shop.

The Next day,

The shattered laptop screen looked right into Stephen's eyes. He knows he made a mistake, but he doesn't know how to fix it. Stephen's getting late. He promised one of his childhood friends from around the neighborhood that he would catch up with them today. He walked down the stairs to the hallway and saw that his mom had company—an old neighbor of theirs. They probably heard that the family has returned to their old dungeon. Stephen went there to greet their new/ old neighbors. As he approached them, he noticed someone else sitting beside them, causing him to gulp hard. It's the same woman he shouted the day before.

"Dear, you remember Mrs. Jones, don't you?" his mom called out to him. 

He came back to his sense, "Yes, Yes yeah Mrs. Jones How are you?" Stephen asked her

"Good Lord, how much you have grown! And this is my niece, Mary," Mrs. Jones said, introducing the woman in the wheelchair.

Stephen stood there for a whole minute, trying to process the situation. Not only had he shouted at her, but she also happened to be their neighbor. His mother was not going to take this well when she found out. What he is feeling right now is not regret, but a sense of guilt.

"Hi," Mary said, extending her hand. "I can't stand up to shake yours," she chuckled.

Stephen felt sorry not because of the words he had thrown at her yesterday at the café, but because of the pain she had to hide behind a laugh whenever anyone looked at her with pity—like the look Stephen was giving her now.