Life isn't perfect
From Storieswiki.org
I was waiting for a friend in a little café, watching others as they came and went, when a little old lady came in and sat down. She looked as if she'd just lost her best friend; I could feel her pain all the way across the room. Yet there was something else there, a wishful look, a sigh. The waitress came around and I saw the lady give a short shake of her head, then speak a few words and the waitress frowned and slowly walked away.
I couldn't help myself, my imagination went into overdrive and I began to create scenarios in my head that would place a grey haired woman in a café and in her obvious mood. I'm afraid anything I could think of seemed to match the downtrodden look that the woman's face ranged into the bitter and the tragic. My mood deteriorated as I sat there waiting patiently for the company I was to meet.
Setting my coffee cup aside, I pulled out my laptop and began to take down story notes, noting the time, the weather, how many people were around, the way they were dressed, the expressions they were wearing... Then I happened to glance up. A harried looking thirtyish woman with a child in a stroller and a toddler hanging onto her hand walked in the door and glanced around. Her face went from a deep frown to a look of joy in seconds and I followed her gaze to... the little grey haired woman whose face now showed relief, and a tempered happiness. She called a name softly and the toddler scooted across the floor, wobbling on uncertain feet. Now the face of the older woman lit up and the smile she wore warmed my heart.
Unfortunately, at that same instant the tiny tot appeared to trip and her little mouth voiced a tiny plaint of despair as her feet stayed in place while her little body's momentum carried forward. The older woman lurched to catch her. Even though I was trying ineffectually to leap and catch her myself, I was watching closely enough to see the ragged flash of pain cross the older woman's face when she stretched forward to catch the tike.
"Oh. Mom, have you hurt yourself?" the younger woman spoke, having obviously seen the same flash of pain herself.
"It's nothing Pamela, just a little stitch in my side. I must have pulled something."
"Mother!" Pamela's voice had an edge. "He's hurt you again, hasn't he? Then you aggravated it when you moved suddenly, didn't you?"
"He didn't mean to hurt me, it was an accident."
"How bad is it, mother? Do you need to have someone look at it?"
"N-no, I think I'll be okay. I'm just a bit tender when I bend over."
"Mom,there's a clinic right down the street, I think after we have our cup of tea we should go there and let them have a look at you."
Oh, I really don't want to go there, they pry into things far too much. I don't like to tell people about little bruises and things."
"Mother, this is getting to sound worse all the time. I'm going to insist now."
"Oh dear, I wish you wouldn't."
"Well, I am. Now where is that waitress, she should have brought your tea by now and then I could have ordered."
"Well, to be honest, I didn't order any tea. I thought I'd do without this morning and ..."
"You didn't order? But, Mom, you love to have a cup of tea at this time of day. Just what's going on?"
"Well, I wasn't sure you were going to be able to make it and I can't really afford to waste money on frivolous things right now, Dear."
"You can't afford ... but, you should have just gotten your pension check and ... that bastard stole your money for his bloody whisky, didn't he? He beat you until you gave it to him, didn't he? I'm going to ..."
"Oh no, Dear. Please, don't interfere. If you do, he'll just ..."
"Mother, we're going to the clinic first and if they tell me that he's hurt you, I'm calling the police."
"Oh no. Please! Don't do that. It would make him so angry." The old lady was openly weeping.
