THE PATRON

I work the café Tuesdays and Thursdays. Obviously just a part-time gig, but it means I can afford driving lessons, so I make the time for it.
Afternoons are busy, evenings are dead. Standard. It’s just a local business, so past the lunchtime rush, it’s only our handful of regulars.
One evening, someone I didn’t recognise came in twenty minutes before close. He’d sat at Table 19, both hands wrapped around his mug, staring vacantly into space with a little half-smile. He looked at peace. After that particular shift I envied him. Older gentleman, at least twice my age, possibly older, it was hard to tell. Business-looking suit, probably just got off his shift or something. Probably just dropped in on his way home. There was nothing special about him, really. But I couldn’t stop staring.
The eye contact was brief. Momentary. He smiled to himself and quickly looked down into his drink. I remember feeling embarrassed, I must have seemed nosey or something.
Five minutes before close-down, he’s up and gone. I went to clear his table; he hadn’t finished his coffee and he’d left a fiver on the table, neatly tucked into his folded receipt.
He’s back again next shift. Table 4. My prior theory came a little unstuck, the suit was gone. Casual wear this time: plaid shirt, close-fitting black jeans and a neck scarf. Very hipster. He was definitely too old for the look, but I didn’t hate it. He looked a little greyer that day, which surprised me, even with all the younger man’s clothes. Some droop about the eyes. What was on his mind?
I nudged Maggie and asked what she thought.
“Maybe it’s been one of those weeks.”
“Maybe..”
She smiled to herself. “Or maybe his wife won’t put out.”
I clasped my hand over my mouth to smother the snigger.
As he left, I noticed he had white animal fur down his jeans. So, he has a pet, or maybe a few. I wondered if it was a cat or dog as I slid the fiver out from his receipt.
I didn’t see him for a couple shifts, though I twitched at every late-evening jingle of the bell on the café door. Sometimes I thought I saw his face in crowds, but it was never him. When he finally came back, I’ll admit I felt a tightness in my chest for a moment. Back to the suit. I liked him in that better.
Maggie caught me staring and made that smug face.
“Didn’t your mum teach you not to stare?”
“Oi shut up.” I replied through my teeth. My eyes flitted over to him. He hadn’t heard us, or at least he pretended not to. He was sat facing away, Table 12. “How old do you reckon he is anyway?”
Maggie craned her neck to try and get a better look. She made a few hesitant movements with her lips, then said, “Mid-forties I’d have thought.” I nodded.
He fidgeted in his chair, and there was a moment of strangled silence.
We went down to a hushed whisper. “You gonna talk to him?”
I thought about it a moment. “Probably not, no.” Maggie looked disappointed.
As he left that evening, I noticed a tired redness about his eyes. No tip.
I didn’t see him for a few months after that. Shifts became dull, and as my driving test approached, I wondered about quitting.
I eventually learned he’d still been coming in, but on Wednesday evenings. I felt a little cheated. I asked to swap to the Wednesday shift.
I don’t know why I found Maggie’s teasing about it so annoying. “I can’t believe you actually changed shifts.” she said with a giggle.
“Stop.” I said with a withering look.
Maggie raised her eyebrows at this point. “Alright, keep your knickers on.” Then she leaned in and whispered, barely containing herself, “Or go ask him to take them off.”
I think he saw me as I stormed off into the back. I felt ridiculous. I don’t even know why it got to me. Maggie was cold with me until the end of the shift.
I came in the next day to apologise to Maggie, but she’d taken the day off sick. The manager caught me as I was leaving and pulled me into the back. I thought I was in trouble over the night before, but then he smiled. He handed me a copy of the local news.
There was a review of our café, his face next to it.
So, he has a name.