A Wordless Love Story

There's a local family who goes to the same cafe almost as regularly as I do, that is, just about every morning. They are even crazier than I am. With my house less than 5 minutes' walk away from the coffee shop, I choose to have my coffee out there, and this family lives even closer from it, as their house is about half way between mine and the cafe. As if none of us have any coffee at home.

We are on greeting terms, a nod, a smile or mouthing a hello or good morning. The friendliest gesture ever shown was that a couple of times one of them had passed me the newspaper once they had done with it, instead of putting it back on the rack near the entrance. Occasionally our tables are by chance very close, but we have never exchanged even the briefest conversation.

This morning was one of those that our tables were next to each other, so I could hear parts of their conversation. I said parts because they always speak in Catalan, which I can only understand about 50 or 60%, although I can read a lot more than that. Normally this family seems very close, old couple in their late 60's I reckon, son about 35 or so but his wife was rarely there. During weekends and school holidays, a boy of about 9 or 10 would be with them sometimes, 3 generation together. I envy such closeness, the whole family together having breakfast in a local cafe, every morning, reading the papers, or amiably chatting. I often wonder why the son can be there every morning until about 11 a.m. Doesn't he work somewhere?

This morning though, the harmonious atmosphere was absent. The old couple especially, both looked a little distant, bordering on indifferent with each other. No more of those occasional glances at each other with a smile, and no more exchanges of words. I wasn't overly concerned about this at first until I heard the sudden raised voices, first from him, then her. After a couple of minutes I could tell they were in fact quarrelling about something. The son kept his attention completely on the food as if he hadn't notice anything not quite right, or as if his parents weren't even there. Before long the argument got louder and, the old man especially, seemed to be furious with his wife.

I adopted their son's attitude and kept my gaze firmly on my newspaper to avoid embarrassment. When I stole a quick glance later over their direction, I saw the old lady keeping her mouth tightly shut but with a very angry expression. The son finally finished his food, got up, and just walked out of the cafe. I don't think he had said a word, not even good bye.

Soon after the old man paid the bill, got up, stretched out his hand towards his wife, but said nothing. She hesitated just a few seconds before deciding to give him her hand. He took it to help her up. They walked out of the cafe and, from the glassed window, I saw him put his arm around her, and I swear I saw her head tilt a little, to rest briefly on his shoulder. They move towards the direction of their home, with his arm round her & her head still on his shoulder, all the way till they were out of my sight.

I put down my paper and thought: what a beautiful ending. He was the angrier one during the argument, but he was also the one to offer her his hand first. And she graciously accepted without having to say a word. The way they walked off like the devoted couple they must have been all their lives; the mutual unspoken conclusion they gave to the unpleasant episode, leaving it in the cafe instead of taking it home ...

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