When I laid out my final design for the week on Saturday evening my right arm felt numb. I turned around and watched Mark who must have gone past forty thousand words by this stage of the month, staring outside his writing window and into the night.
He held his reward with one hand, chilled, and half full, sipping his German beer lusciously, as if every mouthfuls of it slowly contributed to the full appreciation of his moment; filling up his belly, bubbling up his soul.
I’m rather tired, but I wish to go to Tazza in the morrow, I said.
Why? We can set up a chair outside our porch in the afternoon, and have some barbeque and chat all we want. I’ll buy the cat some fish at Karen’s and we can all stay together in the luxury of our little home.
“But I miss their Rainbow cake. It’s our day off, and we’ve been working all week. Anyway you could have your coffee there too.” I replied. “It’s one of my favorite quiet places to go to recharge.”
Mark said it was expensive, and that he didn’t like to pay for anything overly expensive ‘cause it didn’t make him feel right; not even for a Php100 coffee or so.
Don’t enable the practice, he’d say, and he said it just when I expected him to do so with his back against me still.
“There’s no way I’m paying for something like that when I could get the same for so much less. I’ll have my instant coffee and sit here, or spend just the same for another German bottle.”
And so we ended up at Tazza Café around 3 in the afternoon.
I was excited the very moment I stepped in and saw the colors of my favorite dessert, and Mark didn’t seem too sassy at all ordering the cheapest coffee in the menu.
Cheer up, I said, and he gladly obliged, more for the fear he’d ruin my day off than for wanting to look hip in a coffee shop with bold colors and pop art.
I was just glad to take some pictures in such a neat and dainty place. Above me hovered an upended huge cup and saucer that served as the chandelier.
It has nice colorful chairs, one with “sugar and spice” written on it, and a bloody red door next to the sofa looked like a telephone booth in some street in London.
At the end of the day we were awfully glad we pampered ourselves for having worked hard all week, practically non-stop. We ended up spending only close to Php300, but had the best time watching people, and automobiles that seldom passed the street on a Sunday.
It was the old Cebu we remember in college, and I didn’t like finishing up my cake ‘cause it looked so nice and all. But it tasted even better than it looked, and it kinda broke my heart.
Thanks for buying me the cake anyway, I said.
“Forget the things I told you last night. I take it all back. It’s such a lovely day today, and thank you for dragging me here. I’d buy you that Rainbow Cake slice anytime you want if I could. This place reminds me of the good old days.”
“Time flies.” I said reflectively.
“We’re at the end of the rainbow, Claire. Time flies so fast, yet we’re never forsaken.”
“We’re here now, and we just can’t believe it. Somehow we didn’t believe we’d still be here some twenty years into the future, but we are here all right. Two to three decades ago, today was that light at the end of the tunnel. And that’s what a rainbow means- we’re never forgotten.”