Toshikazu Kawaguchi - Before the Coffee Gets Cold

‘Fine then, go… Whatever… It’s not as if anything I say will stop you going to America.’

After saying this, Fumiko gulped down the rest of her coffee. ‘Whoa.’

When the cup was empty, the dizziness started again. She was once more swallowed up by a wavering and shimmering world.

She began pondering. ( What did I come back for, exactly? )

‘I never thought that I was the right man for you.’

She didn’t know why Goro would be saying this.

‘When you invited me for coffee,’ he continued, ‘I always said to myself that I mustn’t fall for you…’

‘What?’

‘Because I have this…’ He ran his fingers through his fringe, which had been combed down to cover the right side of his forehead. He revealed the large burn scar that spread from his right eyebrow to his right ear. ‘Before I met you, I always thought women found me repulsive, and I couldn’t even talk to them.’

‘I…’

‘Even after we had started dating.’

‘ It never even bothered me! ’ shouted Fumiko, but she had become one with the vapour and her words didn’t reach him.

‘I thought that it was only a matter of time before you started liking other, better-looking guys.’

( Never… How can you think that! )

‘I always thought that…’

( Never! )

It was a shock for Fumiko to hear him confess this for the first time. But now that he mentioned it, it seemed to make sense. The more she loved him, and the more she thought about marriage, the more she could sense some kind of invisible barrier.

When she asked if he loved her, he would nod, but he never said the words I love you . When they walked down the street together, Goro would look down sometimes, almost apologetically, and stroke his right eyebrow. Goro had also noticed that men walking down the street were always gawking at her.

( Surely he hadn’t been hung up on that. )

Yet, as she thought that, Fumiko regretted her own thoughts. While she saw it as his little hang-up, for him it was a painful, long-standing complex.

( I had no idea he felt that way. )

Fumiko’s awareness was fading. Her body was engulfed in a wavering, dizzy sensation. Goro had picked up the bill and was making his way to the cash register with his bag in his hand.

( Nothing about the present is going to change. It’s right that it is not going to change. He made the right choice. Achieving his dream is worth much more to him than I am. I guess I have to give up on Goro. I’ll let him go and wish him success with all my heart. )

Fumiko was slowly closing her bloodshot eyes when—

‘Three years,’ Goro said with his back to her. ‘Please wait three years. Then I’ll return, I promise.’

It was a faint voice, but the cafe was small. Although now only vapour, Fumiko could clearly hear Goro’s voice.

‘When I return…’ Goro touched his right eyebrow out of habit and, with his back to Fumiko, said something else that was too muffled to hear.

‘Huh? What?’

At that moment, Fumiko’s awareness of that place became shimmering steam. Just as she was slipping away, Fumiko saw Goro’s face as he glanced back before leaving the cafe. She saw his face for only a split second but he was smiling wonderfully, just like the time when he had said, ‘Perhaps you could buy me a coffee?’

When she came to, Fumiko was sitting in the seat, alone in the cafe. She felt as if she had just had a dream, but the coffee cup in front of her was empty. Her mouth still had a sweet taste in it.

Just then, the woman in the dress returned from the toilet. When she caught Fumiko sitting in her chair, she swooped silently up to her.

‘Move,’ she said in an eerily powerful low voice.

Fumiko started. ‘I… I’m sorry,’ she said, standing up from the chair.

The dreamlike sensation had still not dissipated. Had she really returned to the past?

Going back in time didn’t change the present, so it was only normal that nothing felt different. The aroma of coffee drifted from the kitchen. Fumiko turned to look. Kazu had appeared carrying a fresh cup of coffee placed on the tray.

Kazu walked past her as if nothing had happened. When she got to the woman in the dress’s table, she cleared Fumiko’s used cup and placed the fresh cup of coffee in front of the woman in the dress. The woman gave a small nod of acknowledgement and began to read her book.

Returning to the counter, Kazu asked casually, ‘How was it?’

On hearing these words, Fumiko finally felt sure that she had travelled in time. She had returned to that day – one week ago. But if she had…

‘So I’m just thinking…’

‘Yes?’

‘It doesn’t change the present, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘But what about the things that happen later?’

‘I’m not sure what you’re saying.’

‘From now on…’ Fumiko chose her words. ‘From now on – what about the future?’

Kazu looked straight at Fumiko. ‘Well, as the future hasn’t happened yet, I guess that’s up to you…’ she said, revealing a smile for the first time.

Fumiko’s eyes lit up.

Kazu stood in front of the cash register. ‘Coffee service, plus late-night surcharge, that’s four hundred and twenty yen, please,’ she said quietly.

Fumiko gave a big nod and went towards the cash register. She felt light-footed. After paying 420 yen, Fumiko looked Kazu in the eye.

‘Thank you,’ she said and bowed her head low.

Then, after looking around the entire cafe, she once again bowed, not to anyone in particular, more to the cafe itself. Then she walked out of the cafe without a care.

Kazu started entering the money into the cash register, with her deadpan expression, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The woman in the dress gave a slight smile as she quietly closed the book, a novel titled The Lovers .

The cafe has no air conditioning. It opened in 1874, more than a hundred and forty years ago. Back then, people still used oil lamps for light. Over the years, the cafe underwent a few small renovations, but its interior today is pretty much unchanged from its original look. When it opened, the decor must have been considered very avant-garde. The commonly accepted date for the appearance of the modern cafe in Japan is around 1888 – a whole fourteen years later.

Coffee was introduced to Japan in the Edo period, around the late seventeenth century. Initially it didn’t appeal to Japanese taste buds and it was certainly not thought of as something one drank for enjoyment – which was no wonder, considering it tasted like black, bitter water.

When electricity was introduced, the cafe switched the oil lamps for electric lights, but installing an air conditioner would have destroyed the charm of the interior. So, to this day, the cafe has no air conditioning.

But every year, summer comes around. When midday temperatures soar to above 30 degrees Celsius, you would expect a shop, even one that is underground, to be sweltering inside. The cafe does have a large-bladed ceiling fan, which, being electric, must have been added later. But a ceiling fan like this one doesn’t generate a strong breeze and simply serves to make the air circulate.

The hottest temperature ever recorded in Japan was 41 degrees Celsius at Ekawasaki in Kochi Prefecture. It is difficult to imagine a ceiling fan being at all useful in such heat. But even in the height of summer, this cafe is always pleasantly cool. Who is keeping it cool? Beyond the staff, no one knows – nor will they ever know.

It was an afternoon in summer. It was only early in the season but the temperature outside was as high as on any midsummer day. Inside the cafe, a young woman seated at the counter was busy writing. Next to her was an iced coffee diluted by melting ice. The woman was dressed for summer, in a white frilled T-shirt, a tight grey miniskirt, and strappy sandals. She sat with her back straight, as her pen raced across cherry-blossom-pink letter paper.