Sharing the last table at a cafe
*****
It’s a cute place. Big picture window out front, and all the tables apparently come from used – no, wait, vintage – furniture stores. Sort of a Parisian theme, here in the middle of Brooklyn, with macarons and eclairs in the pastry display, and coffee served in dainty teacups. Yeah, definitely not her usual type of place (he used to tease her that she prefers hipster coffee shops), but then she wasn’t the one who chose it.
Wanda walks up to the counter and waits her turn. It’s busy but not too busy, unfortunately; there are still several empty tables, but she can take care of that if need be. When she finally gets to the front of the queue, she orders a large Americano with hazelnut syrup, plus a slice of quiche. Too much going on at home this morning for her to grab breakfast, and she’s starving. In keeping with the French theme, the server hands her a figurine of the Eiffel Tower and says her order will be out shortly.
There’s a table next to the unlit fireplace, its hearth surrounded by brightly-colored tiles that remind her of her honeymoon in Provence all those years ago. Perfect. As she sits down, her gaze catches the wedding ring still on her finger. She slides it off and slips it into her pocket. Not a good idea to keep it on, at least this morning. Then she sets up her laptop because she’s supposed to be getting some work done. The prospect of staring at spreadsheets and email is exhausting, though, so she opens up Chrome and starts reading Buzzfeed. And she waits for something to happen, though she’s not sure what that will be. The mystery is always the best part, anyway.
*****
It’s a beautiful morning. A rather hectic start to it, yes, but Vision wouldn’t have it any other way. Though he has places to go and tasks to complete later on, this morning is entirely his. What could be more enjoyable than a cafe and the book in his satchel?
When he walks through the door of Cafe Amelia, it is busy but not too busy. A woman at a table near the hearth catches his eye then returns to her laptop. There are a few empty tables, though he has a hunch that those will fill by the time he places his order.
He selects a cup of chamomile and three macarons in pistachio, lavender, and vanilla, then revises the latter to cherry, as the reddish hue feels more appropriate. Once he has paid and dropped several bills in the tip jar, he turns around to find that, sure enough, every table is occupied. This is not a surprise, of course, nor is the way that one empty chair at the woman’s table seems to beckon him. A figurine of the Arc de Triomphe in hand, he walks over and asks, “Is this seat taken?”
The woman smiles and says, “Now it is.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
He takes the seat, carefully arranging his limbs on a rickety antique chair not designed for his rather large frame. Are the two of them meant to begin conversation now? The woman glances at him, a smirk toying along the curves of her lips, before turning her attention back to her computer screen. Vision withdraws his volume of Darwin from the bag and opens it to chapter four. He begins to read, though the temptation to steal glances at her proves a distraction.
A server arrives with both their orders. The table is too big for a laptop, book, two plates, and two teacups, so she closes her computer and returns it to her backpack. After a sip, she says, “Hi. I’m Wanda.”
He smiles. “I’m Vision.”
“Nice to meet you.”
*****
He’s cute.
Blond hair that is both tamed and a bit spiky on top. Nice cheekbones. Glasses that are far sexier than they should be. His pinky sticks out when he raises the teacup to his mouth, though it looks like he doesn’t actually take a sip. That’s odd.
And he’s got on a wedding ring. Bummer.
Still, what’s the harm in a little flirtation? If he shuts it down, that means he’s devoted to his wife. Or she doesn’t care. Or he doesn’t. Whatever. Might as well give it a whirl.
“So, out of all the tables in this place, why’d you choose mine?”
He shrugs. “You look interesting.”
“Really? More interesting than that guy over there holding a giant stuffed peacock?”
Surprised, he turns around then back at her, eyes narrowed. “I see no such thing.”
“Maybe I just magicked it away.”
“Ah, so you know magic?”
Wanda raises an eyebrow. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” God, she’s bad at this.
But he just smiles. “Well, I’ll be here for another hour or so, if you feel like telling me.”
Okay, maybe not that bad at it after all.
*****
She’s cute.
Her face is dotted with tiny moles that resemble freckles. Her eyebrows are slightly darker than her hair, indicating dye, though she wears the red quite well. When she attempts to flirt – and she’s not that talented at it, as if he’s one to talk – her nose crinkles in a rather adorable way. Red polish on her nails, and a variety of silver rings on her fingers, along with a slight discoloration that could be a tan line from one which has been removed. A wedding ring?
His own (metaphorically) burns a line around his finger. His wife would find this extremely amusing. He’ll have to tell her later. For now, why not flirt a bit? It’s why he is here, after all.
“What brings a lovely woman such as yourself here today?”
She takes a sip of her coffee, her gaze never breaking contact with his. “Someone told me this was a great place to… meet new people.”
“Ah. Is that working out well for you thus far?”
Another slight smirk. “I’ll let you know.”
“I look forward to it.”
“And what about you? Can’t be because you’re dying to read that book. I mean, seriously? Darwin? Yikes.”
Vision feigns indignance. “I’ll have you know that Darwin’s writings were revolutionary. I’d even hazard the opinion that they are influencing our interaction here today.”
She just stares at him, so he continues, “He posits that human sexuality is driven by the need to choose the most suitable mate for both biological and, in my opinion, personal fulfillment.” Oh, he could say so much about this topic, but the look on her face implies that it would be unwelcome. “My apologies. This might not be the most appropriate subject for coffee shop chit chat.”
The woman across from him tilts her head, as if she’s indulging him. “So, going back to my original question, you chose this table because you think I’m a suitable mate?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She reaches over and takes a macaron from his plate, and the way her lips curl and eyes spark as she bites into it tells him that his assumption of flirtation was indeed correct. Fortunately for both of them, he knows the answer to her question is “yes”.
*****
Cherry-flavored macaron. Nice. Her favorite. Good choice, Vision. She puts on a little show for him, letting her tongue slide over her lips to catch the crumbs. It works, judging by the way he shifts slightly in his chair.
“Since we’re already on the subject of mates, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”
He cocks his chin to the side, ready with a story, of course. “Well, I am an accountant.”
Wanda snickers. “That’s the best you could do?”
“What? It’s the truth.”
She knows it isn’t – why tell the truth in a situation like this? – but she indulges him anyway. “Riiiiiight.” She draws out the word long enough for him to blink. “An accountant. All those numbers and equations and so on. Very sexy.”
“They have a certain appeal.” He takes another non-sip of the tea. “And yourself?”
“I’m a witch.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“How fascinating. Do you read fortunes and cast spells and the like?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m a big hit at birthday parties.”
Vision laughs. “I can imagine. I’ll have to book you for my sons' next birthday.”
Ah, there it is. “Your sons? Should’ve guessed, since you’re wearing a wedding ring. Does your wife know you’re here flirting with me?”
He gives her a look. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
Wanda just smirks and finishes her cup of coffee.
*****
Vision had forgotten how good it felt to simply sit and chat with a lovely woman. Truth be told, he had never really experienced much of it even before he got married and settled down. Now his life is full, in the most marvelous way, but it doesn’t leave much room to relax like this.
Fortunately, Wanda proves to be an excellent conversational partner. They talk about work and families and the assorted minutiae of their lives, though without revealing too much, of course. When she finishes her coffee, he offers to go up to the counter and purchase another; as he walks up there, he glances over his shoulder to find her admiring his posterior. Well, then. Things appear to be going quite swimmingly, indeed.
The cafe is less crowded now, though they remain at the same table, long past when either of them should probably have left. Despite his full schedule for the afternoon, he does not want to leave. Her body language and facial expressions indicate that she feels the same.
Of course, this little bubble they’ve created for themselves doesn’t last.
Their phones chime in unison. Vision reaches into his jacket pocket while Wanda retrieves hers from her backpack. “Shit,” she mutters. “Tommy twisted his ankle.”
Vision tamps down the frisson of alarm that always rushes through him whenever the school nurse texts them – a common occurrence with their rambunctious sons. “Ms. Shah says it’s nothing to be worried about.”
His wife rolls her eyes. “Probably tried to leap off the jungle gym again. Maybe this time he’ll learn his lesson.”
“Knowing him, likely not.”
They both laugh through the parental concern. “Guess it’s my turn to pick him up from school, since you have that meeting with Sam this afternoon.”
“Thank you, darling.”
Vision stands up and gathers his things, as Wanda does the same. She steps over to give him a quick kiss. “So much for our date, huh?”
He gives her a second, third, and fourth kiss for good measure. “Shall we try again next week?”
Wanda – his beloved, his wife, the mother of their children, the Scarlet Witch, and so many other incredible identities – winks and squeezes his hand, her wedding ring already back on her own. “Same time, same place.”
“I’ll count down the days, my love.”
A smile, then they return to their lives.
*****