CAB

They were complete opposites. Their mutual friends had never thought to introduce them. 

He worked unsociable hours. His restaurant needed his constant attention. He was in the kitchen from the start of preparation until they served the last dish. When he was curious about an order, he would escort his creation to the table. Sometimes he chatted, always about the dish of course. Most times he amused himself by standing there watching the service. For him it was a bit of a ‘truth or dare’ moment. He observed the conversation, the wines that were chosen and the table manners. His patrons surprised him on occasion but not often. Usually, they mortified him. He was a snob, and he knew it. 

She worked away, long stints in strange and dangerous places. Her young daughter lived with her parents while she was gone, for however long to who knows where. She juggled her small family and her career with care. She was grateful for her mum and dad’s help, ravenous for the time she could spend with the three of them. Her work gave them all a better life, that is what she told herself. She was blunt and basic and made no apologies for it.

He split his normal day in three. Down to the markets in the predawn to organise the day’s deliveries and then back home for a second go at some sleep. If he was fortunate to have a little spare time he would fit in a haircut. Or a manicure. Or pick up his dry-cleaning. He had everything dry-cleaned and pressed. Come early evening he headed off to the restaurant. He must oversee the preparation and the menu run-through. 

Today would be different. He was awake for well before his alarm went off. His son was coming home, not quite all the way home, so he was catching a train first thing to meet him. He could not handle flying, never liked it, never saw anything special in it. The train suited him fine, he should be there by late afternoon. 

She had three days leave and there were no flights out. The irony was not lost on her, given what she did. The train was her only option, a day each way and one day there with them. Better than nothing, without doubt better than nothing. She needed no alarm; she was ready to go.

She was one of the first aboard and settled into a forward-facing seat without any fuss. Her bag stowed above her, anyone who cared to notice it would figure out what she did. Her name and rank were clear on the duffle bag’s side.

He was one of the last seated, picking who he sat next to with great deliberation, even though his choices were few. His close inspection of his fellow passengers was borderline rude. He placed himself in the seat opposite her. He looked up to the luggage rack above them, noted her bag and felt relieved. He’d made a good choice, a safe choice, but he did not expect that there would be much conversation between them.

She already seemed immersed in a large book she had on her lap. She also had a notebook and pen sitting on the open book. He tried to look at what she was reading, without letting on that he was. It was a recipe book, his recipe book. Now he had no choice, he asked her what she was planning.

‘A special meal. I always do one when I go home. It’s something I do with my daughter, she wants to be a chef, it helps us reconnect - stay connected.’ She answered. To be polite she asked him why he was travelling. She expected to hear that he was on a business trip. His polished appearance and small overnight bag hinted at that. 

‘My son has just been posted back from overseas duty, marines, and I’m off to see him.’ He said. ‘We don’t have a lot in common, me and him, but I am so proud of him, so relieved he is safe. Can’t wait to set eyes on him actually.’ He had said much more than he intended. He coughed into his hand and sought out his laptop with purpose. 

‘Where has he been?’ She asked, waiting for him to look back at her. When she had his attention she added, ‘How long has he been away?’ Well, that did it. They talked all the way. She appreciated that he worked in a sort of war zone, one that restarted each day, one that demanded his best.  He realised that she, like his son, was genuine. Their manners were not a veneer. They knew their stuff, they knew themselves, no airs and graces.

They disembarked the train together, shared a cab to her home and then he continued on to his hotel. He called his son to let him know that he was there. He would meet him downstairs for a drink and then they would head off for dinner. The last thing his son wanted was a ‘fine dining’ experience, but it was a small price to pay to spend time with his dad. His father had one last instruction for him before he hung up.

‘Oh, dress casual, no uniform if you can, but neat, okay?’ He had his son wondering - casual was not a word his father often used. His son found him in the hotel bar, stole up on him and bear-hugged him as soon as he turned around. They had a whiskey each, top shelf of course. His father checking his watch the whole time, nervous, anxious to order a cab and set off. 

‘So, where are we going dad?’ His son said. 

‘We’re not dining out tonight son, hope you aren’t too dissapointed. We have a dinner invitation for a “special” home cooked meal.' He replied. ‘I made a new friend on the train trip up … a helicopter pilot, a marine can you believe. I think you’ve both seen the same sort of places.’ There was a moments silence between them as they pulled up at her address. He paid the driver and got out.

'Truth is I haven’t looked forward to a meal like this for a very long time.’  He said as he held the taxi door open for his son.

Go to Story BLOG