Jason,
I'm watching you playing that trumpet like you don't have a care in the world, although I know that you do. It sounds so beautiful. You're watching me watching you. You probably think I'm song writing, sipping my coffee, writing about her and you and everything... I so easily could have been, but I'm not.
I arrived here 3 hours ago to get ready for the gig. You've always loved playing cafes, haven't you? Cath gave me a drink and I started scribbling lyrics - me and my misery and you, lurking in the shadows. Then this guy comes and stands over the table blocking out the light. He's fiddling with his waistcoat button grinning at me:
"I can help you with that," he says
I glare at him. "Look buddy, I'm married. Now push off!"
I scribble something in my jotter - I've no idea what. His shadow doesn't move.
"Would you mind getting out of my light?" I ask him in just about the most sarcastic tone I can manage. "You're not invisible!"
He laughs. "Sure," he says and sits himself down in the chair opposite!
I thump my pen down. "Look, I know the manager and..."
"Yeah? So do I!" he says enthusiastically. "She's great, isn't she?"
Then he smiles at me like he's known me for years. I feel exposed.
"Look, what... what do you want?" I ask.
"I've already told you," he says and takes this grape from a bunch in the middle of the table that I hadn't even noticed.
"I...I don't want any help, now go away please..."
He leans across the table points to my first attempt at a song - it was about you, Jason. (You might have guessed!)
"You don't mean that," he says.
"Do you mind?" I yell. "That's personal!" I push my chair back ready to get Cath, but he tells me to sit down.
He doesn't shout; he isn't angry - I'm the one who's angry - he just sort of says it like he means it, like he's in control. You'd laugh, but I actually do as I'm told.
I stare at him. He smiles back and takes another grape. "You should try one," he says. "They're very good!"
I don't know why, but I do. It's ridiculously delicious.
"Hey! You're right!" I say forgetting about you for a second.
Then I stop myself.
"What am I doing?"
He gives me another one of those looks. "Do you know what these are?" he asks holding one in his fingers. The room stands still for a second and I feel like I've found a spot in the sunshine under the garden wall - it's so warm and cosy and private I don't want to move.
"N...no," I answer in a whisper.
"Fruit," he says simply. "Precious fruit! But it's also the beginnings of wine. Course, it takes time..."
He pops it in his mouth.
I have no idea what he's talking about; it just sounds like it ought to make sense.
"HE's weaving you two together," the guy says. "HE's really excited."
"What? Excited? Who?"
I feel suddenly drunk and I glance down at my coffee.
The guy laughs then his face becomes serious. "You've married a klutz, Lizzie, but listen to him, he is sorry. Don't uproot, not now. Give him a drink, don't pour yours away."
He squeezes my hand.
The tears well up. "I...I don't understand."
"Yes you do!" he says, and he points to the words I scribbled a moment earlier.
I stare in disbelief: I can't even remember writing them, but I know they're what I most want to say. When I look up, his chair's empty! It's crazy. One minute he's there, the next...
I stand up, I walk around the table, even pull out the chair. Then this thing falls to the floor and rolls across the boards. I pick it up. It's a button; a beautiful ivory button. But here's the strangest thing: it has two tiny bunches of grapes carved around the edge growing into each other.
I don't know where that guy came from, Jason, but it's like I think he meant I'm supposed to do this thing back up, if that makes sense.
I better end this letter before I make any more ink run. Anyway, you're probably wondering what those words are, aren't you? I've written them out for you:
I forgive you darling. Please, don't ever break my heart again.
Your wife
Lizzie X
