Essay
Mouth Watching
A writerly pursuit
Café Chai recently opened in a nearby town and is worth the short drive. Much has gone into its décor. The walls are concrete and distressed, as if someone has just scrapped off the wallpaper. Teardrop chandeliers shed soft light. The tables are wooden planks with church pews on one side and pale green metal chairs on the other. Lines of rust edge the chairs.
Behind my table is a sofa and armchair. A sea trunk sits before the sofa. In the corner is a pale green table with a lamp, three urns, a stack of hardbacks, a large wooden letter C and a long shallow box of squares that looks like a sorting box. My favourite item in the café is a large vase displaying two enormous blooms of hydrangea. Their petals are a faded green fringed with raspberry pink.
The barista is a beautiful Egyptian called Seth. His shorn curls, if he were to let them grow, would rise, spring and blossom like a hydrangea bloom. Lots of women come to Chai.
It is nine thirty, and the café is empty except for two women and one man who sit too far for me to study their mouths. I ought to move closer, but I like sitting here next to the wall. A spoon chinks on a saucer, the feet of a chair scrape the floor. I see Seth in the mirror. I think of inviting him to sit with me so I can study his mouth but realize this…
