By: Ryan Howarth

He mops his stomach with a sock, gets up from his bed and goes into the bathroom. His reflection antagonises him with shame. The expression shifts to delight. He’s impressed with his physique today.

In the shower he soaps his body and stomach, admiring his washboard abs. The veins on the lower abdomen impress him. He looks up at the full length mirror in the shower in front of him, confused. Confused that he’s woken up alone like this for the past 46 years, for the most part. Out of the corner of his eye he catches the sock staring at him through the shower glass from the floor of the bedroom.

“Fuckin’ pathetic.” he mutters, wondering what he’d just done and what the barista girl would think about her role in it.

He gets out, combs his half greyed hair, puts on his corporate attire and heads out the door.

Outside in the hall a woman in her thirties that lives a few doors down waits at the elevator. The usual tense awkwardness is shared as they make the painful wait. Before the even more painful ride twenty floors to the ground. They say nothing to each other like they have for the past three years. They exit and then enter the world.

As per his usual routine he walks several blocks through the city centre and arrives at the same cafe near his work office.

“God she looks good …” he exhales under his breath as he waits in line to order his coffee.

The barista serving looks to be in her mid twenties and he’s observed her every other day for the past few months.

Say something today. Fuckin’ anything. Anything other than that awkward silent shit you normally do, he coaches himself in his head.

The line gets smaller, her energy glides closer.

“What size? … Yeah, what size cup do you want?” he hears the barista say to a naive customer.

Waves of panic and tormenting chatter warp his hearing. His face flushes warmer, adrenaline fills his body.

“Anything else?” he faintly hears her again, her words apathetic and impatient.

Well what do I say? And how do I say it? Will she like it? What if she doesn’t? What if I make a scene and people see? I can’t humiliate myself or I won’t be able to come to this cafe ever again …, his mental chatter relents.

“What can I get for you?” she says coldly to the customer in front of him, with a stoic expression.

Oh god. No way, he thinks, as his internal battle continues, only minutes away from the moment. His heart races and his body becomes humid as he observes the woman, overwhelmed by her aura. It’s his turn.

“Heyyy what can I get for you??” the barista asks him with a warm smile.

There’s a pause.

Ask her how she is, he thinks.

“Um, hi … Aaahh … how … Just ah … ahm…  a cap… cappuccino. Aahh regular. Please …”

The fuck was that?!, echoes his mind.

“Sure. Could I grab a name please??” she asks, smile remaining.

Mate, she’s into you, look at the smile. Make some small talk. Bit of banter. She wants it.

His confidence grows slightly.

“Um … aahh … Nigel …”

Say it, come on. It’s right there. Say it, it’s the perfect thing – “And you?”. She’ll love it. Do it. Do it … do it quick … before it’s too late! … What are you doing!? Say it! Say you idiot! …

Time passes. He chokes.

“That will be $5,50 thank you.”

He makes payment and stands aside.

You fuckin’ loser. What is wrong with you? Why are you such a pussy? 46 year old man, can’t say a single word to an attractive girl. Pathetic.

The barista, who he doesn’t want to, hands him his cappuccino. He looks at the one who served him. She’s busy taking an order. He leaves.

“Eyy there he is, how are ya big boy?!” says Brent, Head of their Cyber Security department, 6 ‘6 and still all 120 kgs he was when he served in the Army.

“Hey, I’m alright man, you?”

“Good mate. So did you do it?”

“ …… nah. Bottled it again.”

“Ooooohhh come on man. You gotta get her number.”

“Yeh I dunno. I just choke.”

“Well mate, if you finally want to stop paying and actually get a girlfriend, you gotta step it up!”

Embarrassment hangs off Nigel.

“And the amount of Vaseline you must fly through gotta be hurting the wallet too!”

“Fuck you …” Nigel’s words quickly drowned out by Brent’s bellowing laughter and accompanying thudding slap on his back.

“Nah but seriously man. We’re in our mid forties. Our youth has almost gone. Time is running out!”

“Yeh.” Nigel says with a heavy sigh.

“From what you described, it sounds like she’s interested. You have nothing to lose. Do it tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Nigel replies, unsure of the tone in his own voice.

The next morning Nigel gets ready for work and heads out. She’s working at the cafe again. He gets in line.

Just be calm. Keep it simple. Just a normal chat, that’s it, he plots, trying to settle his raging anxiety.

“Yep, what size? Can I get a name please?” she asks mechanically to the customer in front of him.

He admires her symmetrical facial features and long delicious dark brown hair. He can’t remember the last time he has been so attracted to a woman. His thoughts race.

God, she’s just perfect … Why would she be interested in me? … She seems at least 20 years younger than me …Yeh this is a bad idea … People are gonna think I’m a creep …

It’s his turn. There’s nobody else behind him. He steps towards the counter waiting to catch her eyes.

“Well hellooo, back again …” she says to him with a smile.

His mind moves.

Look, she’s clearly open to it. Warm and smiling, positive signals!

“Ahhh … yeh. Um … hi …”

Nah she does that with everyone. It’s just for tips … stop deluding yourself …

“Cappaccino riiiiight? …” she guesses.

“Aaaaaahhh … uumm … ah, yes … ah, please …”

“Oh I go a cap as well! But I like mine with almond milk. I tried it and like, haven’t gone back …”

“… Ahh, oh yeh? … ahhh … I, ah … I’ve never tried it …”

Nice! Keep that up! … keep it going!

“You should. First time for everything right? …” she says, looking him dead in the eyes.

He can’t tell if her slight seductive stare is real or imagined. He holds her gaze.

What the fuck is happening … is this real?

Thoughts turn as he feels himself begin to get hard.

“Uuumm, ok … ahhh … I’ll try it. Um … yeh, Almond Cappuccino … ah please …”

“Great. Nnnnn … ?” she begins “… nniiii? …”

“NIGEL” they both say in unison, followed by a silent shared gaze.

His heart thumps in his chest. She smirks as she writes his name on the coffee cup. There’s an awkward silence after he pays and remains standing there with nobody behind.

“Oh, ah, sorry …. Ahh thanks!”

He stands aside and waits, trying not to make his stares obvious.

Alright, on the way out just ask her if she wants to go out one time and get her number. Easy.

He discreetly watches her move. The minutes drag on. His courage deflates.

“Nigel?” asks the barista girl, holding his coffee. Her warm, slightly naughty smile returning to her lips.

Terror floods his whole being as he motions towards her. They make eyes. He can feel that she can sense an intention in his energy. Curiosity flashes in her eyes as he reaches for the almond cappuccino.

“Ahh ….. thanks ……… ummm ….. Sorry, do you think I could ….. “ he begins, with sincerity.

A hint of hopeful excitement flashes in her eyes.

“………aahhh ……..”

Her expression morphs with every passing second.

“……. um …… get …. Ahhh …….. a serviette?”

“Ah, sure. Enjoy.” she says with a smile.

He leaves.

You fuckin’ pussy! Are you kidding! What is wrong with you! Are you fucking serious!

He lambasts himself all the way to the office.

“… Wow, you really are a pathetic loser. No offense …” says Brent in a poor American accent, quoting Dumb & Dumber.

“None taken.” Nigel responds, laughing at the reference momentarily before returning to shame. “But seriously though, I don’t know what’s wrong with me man. It’s like I gee myself up to ask her out then just completely wimp out. I get overwhelmed with fear and freeze up.”

“It’s normal to feel nervous. You just gotta push through it man and say your piece despite that. She won’t laugh. If anything she’ll find the nerves endearing.”

“Yeh.” Nigel says, still reeling with embarrassment.

“Well you’ve got a bit of momentum now from what you described. So why don’t you just go back this afternoon and ask her out?”

“Dunno man. I feel like I’m just gonna choke again.”

“Nah don’t be negative, you’ll psych yourself out. You got it. Sounds like there’s enough of a vibe. Just stop by this afternoon when it’s not busy, go in, say you’re on your way but want to see if she wants to go out sometime. Get her number and bounce. Easy.”

Nigel exhales heavily.

“Haha come on, stop being a pussy. Nothing to be afraid of. The worst she can say is no, or she has a boyfriend or something.” Brent continues.

“Well if she says no I’ll never step foot in there again! How could I?”

“Don’t assume the worst.”

“Oh hey it’s me Nigel again! How have you been since that incredibly uncomfortable moment the other day when I asked you out and got completely obliterated as a result? Just an almond cappuccino thanks!”

“Oh shut up!” Brent says laughing.

“Eh whatever, alright, I’ll go back this arvo.”

Brent goes to his desk.

“… This tastes like shit …” Nigel mutters to himself, discarding the coffee.

Nigel doesn’t focus much for the rest of that day. He runs scenario after scenario over in his head. From smooth and Hollywoodesque, to downright humiliating and soul-crushing. He goes between fantasies of having sex with her in the cafe bathrooms, to sitting in a nearby park, racked with pain, feeling like he’s been permanently traumatised. 5 pm rolls around.

“Get in, get out. Quick and simple. Don’t overthink it. Godspeed, soldier.” Brent says, bumping Nigels fist outside on the street as they go opposite ways in the city.

Nigel’s adrenaline picks up pace with every passing block as he closes in on the cafe. The scenes play over and over in his mind. Of what he will say, how she will respond. What if she doesn’t agree and what if she does.

“Just like Brent said, quick, get in, get out. And go in straight away so you don’t psych yourself out then just shoot … “ he mutters to himself.

He arrives at the street of the cafe. He waits at the crossing on the opposite side of the road gazing at the shop. He can hear the thuds of his heart as his ears begin to ring slightly. The cafe looks mostly empty, which he feels reassured by.

The pedestrian light turns green. He walks. The shop grows and warps as he approaches. For a moment he feels disconnected from himself, sensing his body propelling him towards the door on its own. He sees her behind the counter from outside as he steams forward, adrenaline pumping.

He gets right before the entrance. But then, suddenly, at the last second he veers away and continues walking down the street footpath.

Oh come on man what the fuck?! What are you doing!?

He lambastes himself internally at losing his nerve and does so for a couple more blocks. He regathers himself before long and turns back, determined to do what he said he would.

As he powers back towards the cafe the adrenaline kicks and his mind races, running the game plan over and over in his head. But this time it feels different. A strange wave of determination comes over him.

“I’m gonna do it no matter what. Fuck it. I’m sick of this shit. I’m sick of being alone. Done living like this. I don’t care what she says I’ve just gotta do it …”he says to himself righteously, surprised he believes his words.

He gets back to the block of the cafe. He storms for the door with vengeance in search of the barista girl.

“Let’s go. Let’s fucking go …”he says, pumping himself up as he approaches the door.

You got this. Nice and simple. Get in, get o- ………..

His thought is suddenly cut off right as he gets to the doorway, almost colliding with somebody who’s on their way out. He looks up and sees it’s her. He locks eyes with her in shock. She stares back with a glad grin, carrying her purse appearing to be leaving. He freezes.

“Hi.” the barista girl says shyly, breaking the silence.

“Aaaaahhh …. Ah … hi?”

Her grin loosens, shifting to a look of confusion.

“Aaahhh …. Sorry. Umm … ahh … hea … heading off? he says, his voice shaking, feeling the weight of the earth.

Feeling discomfort, she moves from in front of the doorway to the street, turning back towards him.

“Yep. You?”, she asks, already sensing why he had returned at such an hour.

“Aahhh …. Ah, yea. Ah …. m … me too ….“

Come on man, go for it. Fucking do it!!!!!! his mind screams, desperately urging him to find the courage.

The seconds drag on.

“Aaahhh …………. Ahhh ……..“

The longer they do the more he feels himself sink into the quicksand. She looks at her phone.

“Well, I have to get going. Have a good night.” she says, beginning to walk away.

As she leaves his space, a wave of confidence grows.

“Ahhh … you too! Aaahh ….. see you tomorrow?” he asks, surprised by his ability to suddenly speak.

“Afraid not. I just got fired.” she responds, turning back to him. She poises for his response.

“O … oh ……. Ah ….. Ahhh …”

He freezes once again. There’s silence.

“Well. See you later.” she says, smiling.

He watches as she turns and walks, disappearing into the crowd. He walks in a different direction, turns down a narrow alleyway. The walls echo with his loud screams and curses for several minutes. He curses in his head and scolds himself more than he ever has done in his life. Rage fills him and his head pulses with a migraine.

He arrives at his apartment building before long. He takes the long ride up to his empty apartment. He goes to his bedroom, sits on the edge of the bed removing his clothing, still cursing and ruminating over the humiliating encounter. He drowns in shame and dread.

After a short while he remains sitting. He’s calmed somewhat. He takes off his pants and lays back on his bed. The barista girl returns to his mind.

“I go a cap as well. But I like mine with almond milk ….” her voice rings in his head as he pictures her face and body.

A sock stares at him from the floor. He hesitates. His hand motions for it.

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Ryan Howarth is a writer based in Sydney, Australia, with a passion for creating narratives that explore the intricacies of human relationships in raw, honest, and sometimes extreme or absurd ways. You can find more of my work on my website: beardlessnomad.com