Toshikazu Kawaguchi - Before the Coffee Gets Cold

‘I keep telling her I don’t want to go home. But she keeps on asking time and time and time again.’ Hirai bent the fingers of both hands one by one as if she was counting the times. ‘Saying that she was persistent would be an understatement.’

‘But you don’t have to hide from her.’

‘I don’t want to see it.’

‘See what?’

‘Her face.’

Kei tilted her head inquisitively.

‘I see it written on her face. Because of what I did, she is now going to be the owner of an inn she doesn’t want to run. She wants me to come home so that she can be free,’ Hirai said.

‘I don’t really see how all that can be written on her face,’ Kei suggested doubtfully.

Hirai knew Kei well enough to know she was probably struggling to picture this. Her very literal mind sometimes missed the point.

‘What I mean,’ Hirai said, ‘is it just feels like she is pressuring me.’

Frowning, she blew out another plume of smoke.

Kei stood there thoughtfully tilting her head to the side several times.

‘Oh god! Is that the time? Oh dear!’ Hirai said dramatically. She quickly stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I’ve got a bar to open.’ She stood up and gingerly stretched from the hips. ‘You sure feel it in your back after three hours crouched down like that.’

Hirai thumped her lower back and headed quickly for the entrance, her beach sandals flip-flopping loudly.

‘Hold on! The letter.’ Kei picked up the letter Kumi had given her and presented it to Hirai.

‘Throw it away!’ Hirai said, without looking, waving it away dismissively with her right hand.

‘You’re not going to read it?’

‘I can imagine what it says. It’s really tough for me by myself. Please come home. It’s OK if you learn the ropes once you’re there. You know, that sort of stuff.’

As she spoke, Hirai pulled out her dictionary-sized purse from her leopard-print pouch. She put the money for the coffee on the counter.

‘See you later,’ she said and left the cafe, clearly desperate to get away.

‘I can’t just throw it away.’ Kei’s face showed her dilemma as she looked at the letter from Kumi.

While Kei was still standing frozen like this, the bell rang again and Kazu Tokita entered the cafe, taking the place of Hirai.

Kazu had gone out today with Nagare, the cafe’s owner and her cousin, to buy supplies. She returned carrying several shopping bags in both hands. The car key was jangling with other keys on the key ring hanging off her ring finger. She was dressed casually, wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans. This was in stark contrast to the bow tie and apron she wore when working.

‘Welcome back,’ smiled Kei, still holding the letter.

‘Sorry we took so long.’

‘No, it was fine. It was pretty quiet.’

‘I’ll get changed right away.’ Kazu’s face was always more expressive before she put on her bow tie. She stuck out her tongue cheekily and darted into the back room.

Kei kept holding the letter. ‘Where’s that damn husband of mine?’ she called out to the back room, looking at the entrance.

Kazu and Nagare did the shopping together. This wasn’t because there was so much to buy, but because Nagare was a difficult shopper. He would get so caught up with wanting to buy the best that he would often go over budget. It was Kazu’s job to tag along and make sure he didn’t. While they were gone, Kei handled the cafe alone. Sometimes when Nagare was unable to find the ingredients he wanted, he would get in a stink and go out drinking.

‘He said he would probably be late coming back,’ Kazu said.

‘Oh, I bet he’s gone out drinking again.’

Kazu poked her head out. ‘I’ll take over now,’ she said apologetically.

‘Argh… I don’t believe that man!’ Kei said, puffing out her cheeks. She retreated to the back room, still holding the letter.

The only people left in the cafe were the woman in the dress quietly reading her novel and Fusagi. Despite it being summer, they were both drinking hot coffee. There were two reasons for this: firstly, you received free refills with hot coffee, and secondly the coffee being hot didn’t bother these two customers as it was always cool inside the cafe, and they sat there for so long anyway. Kazu soon reappeared dressed in her normal waitress’s uniform.

Summer had only just begun, but today it was over 30 degrees Celsius outside. She had walked less than a hundred metres from the car park but the sweat still beaded on her face. She exhaled sharply while wiping her brow with a handkerchief.

‘Um, excuse me…’ said Fusagi, who had lifted his head from his magazine.

‘Yes?’ said Kazu, as if something had surprised her.

‘May I have a refill, please?’

‘Oh, sure.’ She let her usual cool demeanour slip, and replied in the casual tone she had used while wearing a T-shirt just earlier.

Fusagi had his eyes glued on Kazu as she walked into the kitchen. When he came to the cafe, Fusagi always sat in the same chair. If another customer was sitting there, he would leave rather than sit anywhere else. Rather than coming every day, he normally made an appearance two or three times a week, some time after lunch. He would open up his travel magazine and look through it from cover to cover while occasionally jotting down notes. He would usually stay as long as it took to finish the magazine. The only thing he ever ordered was a hot coffee.

The coffee served at the cafe was made from mocha beans grown in Ethiopia, which have a distinct aroma. But it didn’t appeal to everybody’s tastes – though it was deliciously aromatic, some found its bitter fruitiness and complex overtones a little overbearing. On Nagare’s insistence, the cafe only served mocha. Fusagi happened to like this coffee, and he seemed to find the cafe a comfortable space to leisurely read his magazine. Kazu returned from the kitchen holding the glass carafe to pour Fusagi his refill.

Standing by his table, Kazu picked up the cup by the saucer. Fusagi would normally continue to read his magazine while waiting for her to pour his refill – but today was different: he looked directly at her with a strange expression.

Sensing that his manner was different from usual, she thought he must want something else besides the coffee refill. ‘Is there anything else?’ she asked with a smile.

He smiled at her politely, looking a little embarrassed. ‘Are you a new waitress here?’ he asked.

Her expression didn’t change as she placed the cup in front of Fusagi. ‘Er… hmm,’ was all that she replied.

‘Oh, really?’ he replied a little bashfully. He seemed pleased to have communicated to the waitress that he was a regular customer. But satisfied with that, he immediately lowered his head and returned to reading his magazine.

Kazu went about her work with a deadpan expression as if nothing was out of the ordinary. But with no other customers, there was not much to do. Her only work at that moment was wiping some washed glasses and plates with a tea towel and returning them to the shelf. As she went about this task, she started talking to Fusagi. In this small, intimate cafe, it was quite easy to hold a conversation from such a distance without raising one’s voice.

‘So, do you come here often?’

He lifted his head. ‘Yes.’

She went on. ‘Do you know about this place? Have you heard its urban legend?’

‘Yes, I know all about it.’

‘About that seat as well?’

‘Yes.’

‘So are you one of those customers planning on going back in time?’

‘Yes, I am,’ he replied without hesitation.

She let her hands pause briefly. ‘If you return to the past, what are you planning to do?’ But realizing the question was too intrusive and not something she would normally ask, she immediately backtracked. ‘That was a rude thing to ask. I’m sorry…’ She bowed her head and returned to her wiping, avoiding his gaze.