Omelette

"You still might?"

Josie wipes a tear from her eye and smiles. "We still will," she says defiantly. She picks up the fork and half-heartedly breaks off the first mouthful of omelette.

***

There's a space on the wall. Yesterday there was a seascape on the wall opposite her; a beautiful red sunset, a yacht pushing off into the distance. A perfect calmness on a vast sea. Yesterday, Josie stared into the painting and imagined floating away on that ocean. Floating peacefully away.

"The painting's gone, the one with the sunset." Josie indicates the space, the wall faintly scarred with grime, marking out where the frame had been.

The waitress blushes. "I sold it."

"Congratulations. I like that one. I'll miss it."

"Thank you. It's the first one I've sold."

"Then you should do something special with the money."

"I'll probably just pay the rent."

Josie looks across the room at the wall. The empty space feels ominous.

"How's your friend?"

Josie shakes her head. "Not good."

"Are you hungry today? Would you like your omelette?"

Josie pauses. She thinks of her plain omelette; she thinks of Meg not getting better. "You know... maybe... could I have a mushroom one today, please?"

"Of course. I'll bring it over when it's ready."

***

"Cheese omelette, please."

"Good choice. That's my favourite. I'll throw in some chives, then it'll be perfect. You seem happier today... Your friend?"

"Meg's doing well. Rallying, the doctor said."

"That's good news. She's lucky to have you visiting so much. It must be helping her, knowing you're there for her."

Josie shrugs. "She'd do the same for me."

It takes a few moments, sitting down with the smell of the omelette already wafting from the small kitchen, to realise there's a new painting on the wall. Two old ladies sitting on a bench, laughing like school-girls.

"I put it there for you, for your friend."

"You painted it for me?"

The waitress looks sheepish. "Well, no. I had it at home. But when you were talking about your friend the other day, I remembered it. I thought it would cheer you up."

"Thank you." Josie smiles, but it's a thin, thoughtful smile. "That's such a lovely thing to do." Her eyes are drawn back to the picture, lost in this world that might never happen. "It's breast cancer, you see, what Meg has. She was in remission. But she's..." Her voice shakes a little.

The waitress is unsure how to react. Hesitantly she reaches out and touches Josie's arm. She moves away, clearing a table close by; not wanting to leave this poor woman completely alone, glancing back at her every so often.

The café isn't busy, not since the road works started – a few people are dotted here and there, either talking in couples or reading books and newspapers alone. Only Josie looks around, aware of her environment, opening herself up. She looks out of the window, noting the start of another downpour; she glances at the headline on the newspaper left behind by someone else. Neither of these things properly register.

Her gaze returns to the picture on the wall, again and again. There are tears bubbling, but she's smiling as well; a soft smile, a slow sad smile. She leaves the omelette half-eaten. She leaves the café and walks out into the rain.