Espresso Surprise

We walked into our favourite local bar and passed a guy who was already standing at the counter with an empty cup in front of him. Gi ordered two espressos and then approached the cashier to pay for our coffees. This guy at the bar was blabbering in a crazy tone, complaining to the world at large. Initially we thought he might be a bit mad. A cursory glance of his appearance certainly supported that impression. He looked drunk or crazy, his rugged face, weathered wrinkly skin offsetting dark sunken eyes. Combined with his white unruly hair he looked like a long lost great uncle who has led a hard life and always smelled of cigarette smoke and sourness, with rough facial stubble, and overly familiar hands. At first glance he looked unclean, and if you saw him sitting on a bench in the park you might mistake him for a hobo. However, at closer inspection he was of working class, freshly shaven, his slender, wiry frame clad in well worn but clean clothes.

The bar man, preparing our coffees, was nodding his head as if to acknowledge what the old guy was saying without really paying attention. The cashier was an even uglier, even older man, and together with another customer they all seemed quite bored with the old guy’s presence, largely ignoring him, certainly not responding or engaging in conversation, silently willing him to leave.

Our arrival gave the bar man a distraction from the old guy’s monologue and he looked relieved to direct his attention elsewhere.

Gi needs to understand what is being said to him if someone in the vicinity seems to be talking to him. So despite the old guys crazy appearance he bluntly asked “What’s the matter with you?”

The old guy responded, “The matter with me is my bleeding family, families here, families there, what a pain in the arse they are. They always think they know things but they don’t know shit, they only think of themselves”.

“Fair enough, but I still have no idea what you are talking about”, Gi retorted and the audience at the bar quietly chortled.

The old guy said “I was married to a great woman (in Italian, like English, the word great also translates to very big and even though Gi understood that he meant great as in fantastic he momentarily considered making a joke that ‘Maybe you’re better off without her if she was that big. Exactly how much space did she take?’ but decided it was too inappropriate). Continuing on, he said, “Well she died about 3 years ago, and the loss utterly and totally broke my heart. My whole life fell apart. I was an absolute mess, depressed, drunken, angry, and bitter - the lot. And it took the greatest courage and effort to finally accept what had happened and really move on; to realise that she was indeed dead, but I wasn’t. I was still here. There are still others around me and I had to continue living. Life goes on.”

As he talked our coffees arrived. Ripping open the pyramidal packets of sugar we poured it into the thick dark liquid, stirring until it had dissolved, all the while listening to the old guy as he started talking about going out again, being part of the outside world. His family seemed happy that he was out of his grief, living life again.

The story continued to unfold; he met this woman, he courted her. She made him feel whole again, they are both very happy together, and everything was great. That is until the day he decided to tell his family about her. To say that they were distraught would be the greatest understatement. His family were completely against the relationship, one hundred percent. They just could not comprehend how he could possibly have done that, gone down that avenue, gone with someone else as though he should still be worshipping his dead wife. They couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t accept it.

Following their reaction, he decided the best course of action would be for them to meet this woman. Then hopefully they would see what he and she had together, how happy he was with her. He arranged for his new girlfriend to go to the family house the following week. This gave his family a weeks notice to prepare themselves for the occasion. It also gave his girlfriend a week to brace herself as well.

However, two days before she was due to go and meet the family she found out she was pregnant.

The old guy, still leaning against the counter, but now more animated and looking directly and solely at Gigi exclaims, “Now here I am, already a father, and a grandfather, at 69 to be a father again to the child of a 39 year old”. At this, Gi almost choked on the coffee.

He emphasised “There is a thirty year difference between me and my pregnant girlfriend. But what is time?” he asked, “And what is age when you have happiness and love?” Good questions, indeed.

The family meeting was subsequently cancelled, the couple having decided that they needed more time to think things over now that she was pregnant. But he still told his family about the pregnancy. The fireworks exploded, they told him he was crazy. To say they were angry would be another understatement.

Having thrown back the last dregs of our coffees, we were ready to leave. It was then that he delivered this gem, “Ultimately”, he said, “it’s the women, they’re like that, they all want children”. Gi turned around and in accordance with a local custom to eliminate bad luck began vigorously scratched his balls saying by way of explanation “Excuse the rude gesture but it’s never been as duly needed as it is at this moment. I’ve been in a relationship for twelve years without that being an issue and I don’t need an old codger jeopardising my lifestyle first thing in the morning”.

The barman, leaning against the back counter, was now openly laughing, enjoying the performance.

The old guy countered with “But they are like that, they’re turning me crazy, I’ve already had five espressos this morning”, genuinely believing every word having lived it, struggled and suffered, he was convinced it was reality for all.

Gi said “God at that rate if you have a couple more you could go out and impregnate five or six more women”. The bar man and cashier laughed harder, and as we headed in the direction of the door Gi threw in “And you’ll turn into a horny Tasmanian devil”. The bar man choked. The old guy looked lost, like a teenager caught with his pants down, our coffee cups sat empty on the counter.

We left him standing at the bar, Gi wishing everyone a good day adding, “It was a wonderful moment”. The wonder is in imagining what the woman is like, how the next chapter of drama will unfold and whether Viagra was involved.