Café Breton (working title)

April 10, 2011, Café Breton – Greenbelt 3

The age difference had always been an issue.

That she was older and he was younger was always a topic frequently discussed by the idle housewives of the Homeowners’ Association during the monthly bake sale.

It was immoral, it was weird, it was wrong.

That they lived honestly was not the point.  It did not matter that they paid their dues on time and that they never trodden down on anyone’s toes to be where they were.

No.  That they were going against convention meant that they were somehow abnormal, and being labeled as such meant that they somehow were to be feared.

It was long before they moved into this particular community that she’s learned to live with the arched judgmental eyebrows and the hateful whispers that were somehow never silent enough.  She knew that she (they) could handle it; they’ve been through far worse, after all.

But sometimes— more often that she’d care to admit really— something sneaks past her defenses and gets right under skin, eating at her reserves like some corrosive acid.

They were sitting outside in the ornate vintage dining set that they somehow managed to snag for a steal at a flea market in his hometown.  Sunday mornings usually meant breakfasts in bed but today they decided to dine outside and enjoy the crispiness of the waning winter season.

The whole block was relatively quiet; not many of their neighbors were morning people and the tranquility lulled them into a false sense of safety.

A brush of the thigh here, a nibble of the ear there – simple acts of affection that cannot out rightly be called vulgar or distasteful, but gestures that they certainly did not normally dare display under the harsh scrutiny of their critical neighbors.

They were laughing at something silly; she lost her balance and stumbled onto his lap, still giggling maniacally when a yellow jeep drove by slowly.  It wasn’t until a couple of moments later that she realized that they were being gawked at by all of the occupants of the said vehicle.  Flashbacks of the her Aunt May, catching her red-handed— her hand already halfway down the cookie jar— entered her mind as she stared at the three pairs of shock-widened eyes of two little girls and their mother.

It wasn’t until she heard the mother say in that oh-so-familiar quivering voice full of judgment and scorn, “The nerve.  And in front of my children too,” did she feel herself flush bright red.  Her eyes automatically dropped, staring at but not completely seeing the manicured grass of their lawn (that they spent all of last weekend to perfect).  She heard the jeep drive away, the sound of the whiles crushing gravel mixing with the voices of the little girls asking what exactly was wrong.

And even though she knew she shouldn’t, she still could not help the feeling of shame bubbling insider and engulfing her.  All the faces of past neighbors, landlords, co-workers, her family, his friends, swam before her eyes.  Suddenly she was once again at the lowest point of her life, the fingers and the voices once again condemning her for falling in love and choosing to be with the only man who understood her.

It was his touch, warm and steady and gentle, that pulled her out of her spiraling panic.  He tugged at her hand, pulling her frame against him.  She felt his long arms envelope her in a familiar and comforting hug.

“Don’t mind them,” he whispered in her ear.  She can her the relaxed easy smile in his voice.  “We’re all that matters, remember?”

She leaned back into his touch and closed her eyes.  She found herself consciously breathing in deeply, a conscious effort to match his rate of breathing.  He made soothing noises in her ear and slowly she found his smiling face rising above the other nameless faces in her mind.

Deeming herself calm enough, she pulled back slightly and turned to face him.  The same gentle smile etched in her mind greeted her line of sight and she could not help but smile back.

Gradually she nodded, both as an act of assent to his previous statement and as an answer to his unspoken question.

Yes, he was the only one who truly mattered.

And as long as he was at her side, they could live through anything.

-Fin-