The Bell Above the Cafe Door

It came as quite a surprise to James, as he sat alone in a cafe enjoying his latte, when a ragged looking man (who he did not know) tapped him on the shoulder and challenged him to a fight. James’ initial response to the man was, “Either my ancestor wronged yours in some way I’m unfamiliar with, or you sir, are very bored today.” With that line he sipped his latte, attempting to ignore his impromptu bully. The bully proceeded to knock the caffeinated beverage from James’ hand while calling him a coward. The frothy mix of cream and coffee pooled on the tiled floor. The others in the cafe looked at the spectacle before them, not daring to intervene. The bully looked James in the eye, stating, “I’ll be right outside, and if you’re not a sissy, you’ll come out there and face me. And if you try to sneak out, I’ll find you, you little weasel.” With that eerie statement the bully left, the bell at the top of the door chiming upon contact, like the start of a boxing round.

All eyes were on James. But whose eyes were these? Let’s go over them and better set the scene. First, there is Timothy, a young college student who spends more time studying theory than seeking reality (with pencil sketched textbooks all over his table), Gloria, a young mother bursting with milk for the child latched onto her, Gary, an aspiring writer with his laptop open, and Helga, an Eastern European immigrant with more memories than words while wielding a large purse. You notice the cafe employees weren’t mentioned, this is due to the fact that they were distracted by a scone emergency and did not see the incident that set the following events into motion.

The following dialogue went like this.

Timothy: Are you all right, sir?

James: Uh…yeah. That was just unexpected.

Gloria: That guy is a jerk. Don’t go out there.

James grabbed some awkward brown napkins and began cleaning up the mess, grateful he didn’t get any on his new socks.

Gary: Well, hold on a moment. Let’s be real here, that guy was threatening. We should probably call the police, let them figure this out. Ain’t worth risking anything. That guy’s clearly nuts, not safe to be around. Could be packing a blade, too. Who knows?

James: I really don’t want to drag the police into this, sir. To be honest, I think the guy is just not mentally aligned.

Gary: That’s my whole point, bro. Guy’s nuts.

Timothy: Perhaps someone just needs to talk to him. Go out there and explain how his behavior is not proper.

Gary: Yeah, good luck with that. You ever try talking to a crazy nutter, it won’t go well.

Gloria: I agree. That’s not a good idea. Look, I don’t feel safe with that man out there. Suppose he attacks someone. I have my child with me. We should call the cops.

James: The police usually take an hour and a half to show up these days, even in an emergency situation. I called the cops last month over a domestic dispute in my apartment complex, in a place where there were small children, and it still took forever for anyone to show up. Chances are by the time the police arrive, the man won’t even be there anymore.

Timothy: Probably for the best. The police can escalate situations. I just read an article about it. Mental health services can often be best.

Gary: Oh mental health please, no amount of Rorschach tests is going to fix that nutter. That fool just needs his ass whooped. I’ll take the cops over shrinks any day of the week. Guy just needs a fist to the face to wise him up.

Timothy: Are you gonna do it?

Gary: Hell no.

James finished cleaning the spill and sat back down.

Gloria: Why did that man do that? This isn’t good. I really don’t feel safe.

James smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He tossed the wet napkins into the nearby bin.

James: Well, bullies have seemed drawn to me much of my life. Just an easy target, I guess. I still remember back in elementary school, there was this one kid, he would tease me all the time, pushed me once on the playground, he finally got in trouble for that.

Timothy: I’m sorry to hear that. Such childhood aggression is usually the result of…

The bell above the door rang again as another patron entered. Everyone stared. A middle-aged man walked up to the counter. Let’s call him Bob. James turned to him.

James: Excuse me, sir? Is there a man outside, slovenly, tall, thick mustache, evil eyes?

Bob: Oh…uh…I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.

Timothy stood and moved closer to the door, scanning the outside through the door window.

Timothy: I don’t see him. Maybe he did leave. Perhaps he is suffering from…

As Timothy began an academic monologue, Gary muttered to himself “No cups in the cupboard” and began typing away his new story. The cafe workers finally showed up, having solved the previously mentioned scone issue. They took Bob’s order and gave him a small coffee and croissant. He then opened the door just enough to look outside.

Bob: Oh yeah, he’s right there on the street corner. He’s doing some sort of shadow boxing. He does have some intense look in his eyes. Do you need him for something?

James: No. Not at all.

Bob: Oh, okay.

With that, the bell above the door chimed with Bob's exit.

Timothy looked through the window again. He saw the bully move closer to the door, then turn away, pop his back and stretch his neck.

Timothy: Yea, he’s ready to fight. He’s right outside.

Gloria: He’s obviously deranged and violent! We should just call someone, no matter how long it takes, the cops, the FBI, something. What if he is a psycho killer? For crying out loud, I have my child here! That does it, I’m calling my husband.

Gloria sat her child on her knee. As she called, James stood and walked closer to the door.

James: I’m sorry about all this. I don’t want anyone to be afraid. This is unfortunate.

Gloria: Dammit! Why won’t he pick up? I can’t leave any more messages.

James: I must confess, I really don’t know what to do now.

At that point Helga stood up. You probably forgot about her. Previously, as all the others were speaking, she sat silently with a memory replaying on a loop. It was a scene of her with her husband standing on a long stretch of road on the border of their war-torn nation.

Her husband took her by the hands, saying in their native tongue, “I have to go back. I have to fight for us. Our home. Go. Get somewhere safe, and God willing, I will see you again soon.”

They embraced and kissed.

“Why did they do this to us? We were no threat to them”, cried Helga.

“I don’t know, my dear. I wish I had an answer.”

She held his hands tight, her warm tears turning cold, “I can’t do this without you!”

He kissed her hands. “You must. You can. Just, just…never be defenseless. Wherever you go, always be prepared. Carry a weapon, any kind you can. Gun. Knife. Be safe. Protect yourself always. Please.”

She was put on the back of a truck with other mourning refugees. She held out her arms towards her husband as the truck drove across the border, the space between them growing. He waved at her throughout eternity.

Helga’s mind returned to the present. She stood. All eyes now on her.

Helga went towards the door. She reached inside her purse. The bell tolled.

The bully never saw it coming.