The coffee was a little burnt-tasting. Not much crème. Even Bec could tell that this was only average, perhaps bad, coffee, and she hadn’t even been living in Slovenia. He curled his lip at the smell of it and this was a new thing. She had never seen him curl his lip like that before.

He sipped at the bitter black dribble. He swore in Slovene.

“I don’t think this was the place he was talking about. I think it must have been that place down the road.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m glad we’re here.” Bec put out her hand and found it resting on his arm and squeezed it out of habit. The coffee grinder started up. Loud. She took great gulps of her grainy coffee. Perhaps it would rattle something loose in her.

“Don’t drink that.”

He pulled the cup away from her mouth in a way that was almost impolite.

“We’ll go to that other place.”

“OK.”

“Cause I think that is where he meant. I don’t think he would have told me to come here.” This, loud enough, and the waiter passing.

She left a few dollars under the saucer when he was pushing his own chair back. She thought maybe he hadn’t seen.

It was chilly outside. She spotted the river when they walked between buildings, big brick monoliths that had once been factories. A man raced past on a kayak. She saw him for a second, muscled arms digging into the muddy water as if it were icing. Head turning towards her. Then he was gone. She wondered if he had seen her there, walking with her hands thrust into her coat pockets.

↓

The other cafe was better; she could tell before they even sat down. It was to do with the way the place was stripped back. There were cracks in the sandstone walls and a pillar with ornate carvings where it touched the high ceiling. The lights hung low on long white cords. There was a painting on the wall that one of the staff had probably made. The staff were exceptionally casual, the kind of messed up hair that would have taken hours to perfect.

“In Slovenia I worked at a café run by lesbians.”

Bec looked up at the waitress who casually slouched within earshot. Bec wondered if this waitress was a lesbian. She wondered if she would be cooler if she became a lesbian. She had slept with a girlfriend in high school. She wondered how she could casually drop this into the conversation.

She ordered a short black. Short black and a cupcake, and she only realised that the cupcake was a mistake as she opened her mouth to order it. He shifted subtly in his seat, turning his body a little away from her.

She had a thing in her satchel for him. A welcome home gift. Just a CD she had made of the music she had been listening to since he left. Bec kicked the satchel further under her chair and slouched. This seemed to be the kind of café where you were supposed to slouch.

“We would finish up at night and go out dancing somewhere.”

“With the lesbians?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He stretched, and she noticed his hand shaking. She remembered how much it bothered her. She used to worry that this was the beginning of something, a disease.

When the coffee was delivered she didn’t want black coffee anymore. She wanted a flat white. She swallowed the short black and the hot acid of it burned all the way to her stomach. She wanted a glass of water. She looked around for a jug.

“I’m tired,” Bec said.

“Yeah. I’m a bit jetlagged myself. Up all night watching bad infomercials. They don’t have those in Slovenia, you know?”

Bec didn’t know but it made sense when he said it.

“I don’t have jetlag,” Bec said, “I’m just a bit tired.”

↓

They parted company at the end of the street. She grinned and waved when he climbed into his parents’ car. He had offered to drive her home but she’d declined. She wanted to sit by the river for a while. She thought she might see ducks, though probably not.

It was public land, this boardwalk, but she felt as if she was sneaking into someone’s back garden. The townhouses jostled for position along the river’s edge. Their concrete steps leaped steeply down from tiny verandas. She was close enough to reach out and touch everybody’s portable barbeques.

She sat on the edge of the boardwalk and pulled grass up by the stems, clumps of it, that she hurled overarm into the water. A woman passed in a rowboat. It was unseasonably chilly. She pulled her coat closer around her shoulders and hauled herself up to standing. Then she saw him, the same kayak, and although she had only caught a glimpse of him she felt a sudden short wave of recognition.

“Hey!” Bec waved at him and he looked towards her, smiling, perhaps a little confused.

“Here!” She reached into her satchel and found the jewel-coloured CD case and flung it out into the water. It fell short of the kayak, but she saw the man stop and swing the craft around towards the CD, which floated briefly before sinking under the surface.

The man grinned and shrugged. Bec shrugged. The man lifted his chin in a nod and she watched him spin the kayak and power off against the tide.