By Liz Frost
A nagging feeling at the back of her mind was telling her she’d have to be going soon. Instinctively
she lifted her left hand and on her downward glance, caught eye contact with Ben across the Formica
table.
His eyes still slightly creased from laughing joined his mouth in asking her teasingly “Am I boring you?”
“You could never bore me” she smiled, stifling a make-believe yawn, which elicited a playful slap
across the dust-gathering sauce bottles.
“When will I see you again?” he was asking, suddenly serious.
“Whenever you like” she said tossing the ball firmly into his court and then reaching into her bag for
her suddenly shrilling mobile phone.
“Damn it” she cursed moving aside keys, purses, sweet wrappers and make up bags in pursuit of the
offending article. Finally she resorted to emptying the contents one by one onto the small table, much
to the amusement of Ben and the couple on the next table who’d seemingly been oblivious to the noise
of her shrill tormentor. Eventually her hand reached out and landed on the button to stop the noise.
Her alarm clock, she realized, and glancing down confirmed her position safely ensconced inside a
pair of striped pajamas and in her bed. Damn it.
Susan negotiated her way out of the tangled bedclothes and into the steaming bathroom to begin
preparations for her morning ahead. She had an interview for an Account Handling role at one of the
top Advertising agencies in town, hence her mind had been trying to drag her kicking and screaming
from her dream. She knew where she’d rather be, fancy new job or not. Sulkily she turned on the
shower and waited for it to warm, watching the water form dancing droplets and steam up the
bathroom mirror. Time was ticking on and all she could think of was Café Delight and her time with
Ben.
It didn’t surprise Susan that at night while she slept, her subconscious carried her to a place she felt
safe and relaxed. More than that, it didn’t surprise her that in her safe place she shared her time with
an invented lover who perfectly met all her criteria. Because if Susan had made up a man in her head
that was perfect for her, if she’d sat down at a drawing board and laid up carefully thought out plans,
the end result would be remarkably like Ben. She often congratulated herself on her unwitting
invention; however her self-congratulation was always slightly tinged with sadness that her dream wasn’
t her real life. Her real life wasn’t nearly as good.
Now as she stood, dried, groomed and dressed in her best interview suit she wondered if she really
wanted the Account Manager job. Already her job was stressful. Customer Services Manager
sounded powerful and impressive, but with it came the responsibility of thousands of customers’
happiness. Her job was to ensure happiness, delight even, which sounded selfless and honorable,
but in reality provided little reward for the soul. The Account Manager role would take her from looking
after the happiness of the everyday fickle individual to taking care of the delicate and unpredictable
happiness of the Client. The words ‘frying pan’ and ‘fire’ played devil’s advocate in her mind.
On the bus, Susan gazed out of the window at all the people rushing by this way and that, eager to get
to work on time to get that report out, make that meeting, send that email… She flinched at the thought
of the rush rush rush lifestyle that she’s chosen for herself. Her smart suit felt like a straight jacket.
Was this truly madness?
Susan sat in the silent reception area. After all the rushing and panicking she was ironically early.
Half an hour was an excruciating amount of time for her to wait, perhaps because she knew in her
heart that she might run across the polished marble floor and out of the swish revolving doors at any
moment. She centred herself and occupied her clenching hands with a crumpled copy of The
Guardian, full of interesting articles that were bound to distract her from fleeing the scene. This was
technically the right move for her career-wise, she didn’t know why she was suddenly having doubts
about it. She focused her mind back on reading an article about Third World poverty. Turning the
page, that’s when she’d finally seen it.
“Susan, Mr. Rogers will see you now…” The secretary’s voice trailed off as she took in the empty seat
and spinning glass doors. Susan had gone.
Susan was running now. Down the street and out of sight of the glass fronted Advertising Agency.
Not only adrenalin pumped through her veins but exhilaration because she wasn’t just running from
something which didn’t feel right, but running to something which she felt compelled towards. Turning
corners and dodging passing shoppers, probably those she worked so hard to keep happy every
working day. She felt a smile creep across her lips. Her smart high heeled shoes hindered her and so
she stopped briefly and tossed them into the road, running barefoot now she wondered if she’d been
temporarily possessed by a demonic presence, but she didn’t care. Her hand was still tightly clasped
around the copy of the Guardian.
A ‘For Sale’ sign marked above the door confirmed to Susan that she was at the right address
described by the advertisement. However, even without it she knew she was in the right place,
because it was just as described and she didn’t know why she’d never thought of it before. She was
happier in her dreams because she was in the place she was meant to be. Her life wasn’t meant to
consist of marble floors and revolving glass doors. Running a cosy café like that in her dream would
make her happy. Even thinking about it now she felt her tensed muscles relax.
As she stumbled out of breath through the small frosted door of the Cafe, a little bell tinkled to
announce her arrival.
“I’ve come about the ad in the…”
“Guardian.” The man finished for her and showed her to a seat by the window. The café was
completely empty aside from a man sitting on the table in front of her with his back to her. Suddenly,
without turning round he said
“I knew you’d come.”
“Sorry?” said Susan, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“It was a long shot, but you answered my ad” he said, slowly turning around with his eyes shining with
emotion.
“Ben?” Susan’s words caught in a lump in her throat as she recognized the familiar face only ever
encountered in her dreams.
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