take two

the woman sits in a chair, her back towards me. the cafe is small and the furniture crammed, so even if she is a table and a chair away from me i could still almost reach out and touch her dark brown hair if i wanted to; and for a short second i play with the idea of doing so. i wonder what would happen should i do it and picture a few different possible scenarios in my head, take a few steps down on the imaginary lanes. not that i would ever actually do it, of course not; i have never been the type of person to act out the scenarios in my head, never ever; even when i was a small child i always thought before acting. 

this, i sometimes feel, is my biggest drawback.

the man - i'm assuming he is a husband but these days you never know, it is not so obvious any more to do things in the traditional order - marriage, then kids  - pulls out the chair next to the woman and places his coat on the back rest for her to support herself. she glances at him with an expression that says 'thank you' and pulls out her breast, offering it to the baby that rests in her arms. i don't actually see the baby or her breast for that matter, but it is obvious that that is what is happening. as the baby drinks the mother's milk i drink my wine, with a speed i would not succumb to if in a company of someone; but these days i drink alone more often than not and i think about the embarrassing pace much less than i used to.

the man hovers around the mother and the child like you wouldn't expect a man to do, wanting to help, to participate somehow, but the moment and the bond is only between the two, and he is not really allowed in. later on in the child's life the role of the father might turn out to be more prevalent but right now he has no part, no significance almost; and i think i can see this acknowledgement on the man's face. it is a strange mixture of resignation and acceptance, and the reason i can recognize it is because i just might have the same expression on my own features.

there was a time when i could have had a part in play very similar to the one presented in front of me; a time when the role of a mother and a wife, maybe in not that order or maybe exactly in that order, could have been mine. there was a time when i was amazing and adored,  loved and precious; but now i tend to think that all these things and more - because there was more, a lot more - were just a question of circumstances, of being in a certain place in a certain time. as the situation changed together with the time that passed, these attributes attached to me somehow ceased to exist, one by one, fell off like feathers fall off from a diseased bird. and as a result i am none of those things any more, i am bare, and somebody else is cast in the role i thought to be playing.

it doesn't necessarily make me sad, it's just -- you know, it's like when you believe in something, really believe, and then you get undeniable evidence that things aren't as you thought or rather knew them to be -- it does kind of make you think, shakes you up a bit - that maybe this isn't the only thing you were wrong about?

because i did believe i was amazing, and adored, and everything else -- i bought it all, wholeheartedly. then suddenly i wasn't any more, but still was the exact same person who had been -- it did make me feel a bit unsure of myself. when the stars and the moon weren't there to be collected for me any more, but meant for someone else; i mean really, what happened there? it made me confused, and quite frankly it made me a little bit angry. i felt i had been tricked, because i had not changed; but still i was no longer what i had been before. how is one supposed to deal with that?

the baby has finished eating and i have finished my glass of wine. the small family gets up and starts to gather their things in the process of leaving; finally the father has something to do as well, he can prove to be useful, and the vacant expression of being lost has left his face. i also stand up but not to go; and i am not lost either, not any more. the attributes that are now attached to me need to be reinforced so as not to be taken from me; so i take my coat, and my bag, and walk to the door before the army of three behind me has finished their packing. the night is still young and even if i am not as young as i used to be, i can still keep up with it.