Wife You Up (Completed Short Story)

13• The bakery

 
 
 
I've found the location of where Reinaldo had bought that delicious cake. The old cafe that had a 'For Sale' sign up, though the business was still opened.

So I went in as the bell chimes above my head when Zayn opened the door for me.

I looked around at the empty place with a heart full of sorrow, but each breath that fills my lungs carries the smell of pasties faint in the air, but coffee being the strongest.

The old place looked as if it had never received a renovation since forever thought the walls looked sturdy enough to make history. Just as the old man that walked slowly towards the counter with his eyes on me.

I smiled, slowly approaching while looking around at the interior.

Old wooden tables and chairs. Black and white tiled flooring. Red torn old leather sitting booths and an old music box.

The only good looking things was the cakes, cupcakes and donuts in the display shelf.

"Good morning, sir." I greeted, though my eyes stayed on the cakes, feeling my taste buds awakening.

"Good morning, dear." His old voice brightens my smile as I remembered how my grandpa was like that before he died. Frail, but still going.

"I'm here to buy..."

"My building?" He says, or hoped. I wasn't sure which one.

"No." I giggled. "My... Well, this guy that is courting me bought a tasty slice of cake for me last week and I tracked the location because I really love sweet things. I'm here to buy some more because my cousin banned me from using the oven in our apartment so here I am, seeking for the next best option."

"Okay. What would you like then?" He asked and my eyes widened as I further scanned the goodies.

"Can I get all the cakes and cupcakes to go, please?" I grinned.

His tired smile widens, but he showed no teeth or gums. What I saw behind the curtain of grey curls on his forehead is a tattoo. An as he served me the cakes, I eyed his body.

Dressed in a long sleeve shirt and dress pants with a blue apron on his waist. Hidden but not concealed enough are tattoos on his old skin to prove how handsome he must have looked in his youth to rock so many ink.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He asked.

"No, why?" I blinked, looking away when I realized that he caught me staring.

"You remind me of the Jamaican lady over in Main street."

I chuckled, folding my arms. "It seems Aunty G really made an impression with everyone she meets."

"Young Miss Grace and Mister Justin used my bakery to cater their wedding twenty seven years ago." He spoke and my eyes widen.

"This is it, isn't it?" I pointed to the vanilla and chocolate swirl cake that was labeled 'Signature' on the paper. It looks identical to the cake I've seen on their wedding photo.

It's why I was focused on it on the display.

"It is." He laughs from his belly.

"She always tell Rue and I that she chose the cake because Uncle Justin is vanilla and she is chocolate. That the swirls don't mix but they stayed together despise their differences. Christian and Muslim. Black and white. Curvy and slim. One wild and the other tame." I awed.

"Their daughter is Rue, I resume?"

"Yep." I nod, watching him box the second cake.

Though slow in his step, I was in no rush so I had patience.