The clock on the wall indicated that it was well past 9:30 pm. Yet, there were new customers coming in to order coffee as well as to take refuge from the cold wind that was blowing increasingly stronger outside. Those who had just entered were busy hanging their jackets on clothes hooks, before ordering their hot drinks. They were totally oblivious to the fact that we were closing. Makan Café was open until 9:30 pm daily.
"Nur, the kitchen is sorted out. Is there anything else?" asked Ahmad, the kitchen manager who was responsible for ensuring that everything was clean and tidy. Woks and cooking utensils had to be washed and dried before they were put away in the cupboards. The cookers had to be sparkling clean before staff were allowed to leave at the end of the day.
"No. You can all leave now," I replied, realising that the hands of the clock already pointed to 10:00. Ahmad realised that there were still about 15 customers at their tables. Old and young. Individually and in groups. Boisterously engaged in their respective conversations.
"Are you sure? Let me stay on. I don't have anything else to do tonight," he offered as he took off his apron. I asked him to change the "Welcome" sign on the door to "We are closed", so that no more customers would enter.
I let the other staff leave. Most of them were students working part-time. They must be tired. Studying in the morning. Working in the evening. They would surely want to go back to sleep after being busy the whole day.
I asked Ahmad to give the remaining cekodok and banana fritters at the counter to the customers still in the café. At the same time I served a few customers that I had not met before. Most of our customers were regulars. If there were new faces, I would surely have a friendly chat with them. I had to be warm and affable. That was the way we treated customers in this café.
"It's freezing tonight. My whole body was shivering when I was out there," said the 30-something male who was enjoying milky coffee while gazing outside. The woman of a similar age who was seated beside him smiled as she sipped her hot chocolate.
"Come from far?" I asked casually.
"From Bayswater. There was a party earlier at a friend's place at the end of the street. We were on our way to the bus stop to go home, but it was so cold, we came in here to escape it for a while," he explained. I nodded. We chatted for a while.
Other customers started to get up to leave. Most of them had just realised that the café had long since closed for the day and we were just waiting for them to be on their way. Ahmad helped hand them their jackets and coats, and opened the door for them. He was very warm and polite in dealing with customers. After the last customer had left, Ahmad locked the door.
"Nur, you're a gem. The café was already closed, but you still let them come in," exclaimed Ahmad as he wrapped a scarf around his neck. I had already grabbed my handbag and was ready to leave.
"It was very cold outside tonight. After recharging their batteries, they'd be more prepared to handle their way home. Anyway, we had one less headache deciding what to do with today's leftover cekodok and banana fritters," I explained, switching off the lights. Ahmad chuckled.
We opened the door and stepped outside. The chilly air hit our cheeks instantly. Brrr! Ahmad double-checked that the door was locked and then we walked to the nearest bus stop. We were chilled to the bone with every step we took.
At the bus stop, Ahmad stood with me as I waited for the bus. It was what he did every night we closed the café. He said that it was not safe for a woman to be alone in this area, especially late at night. There were many drunks and hooligans hanging around.
As soon as I boarded the bus, Ahmad left for home. He lived nearby, just a street away behind the bus stop.
It takes me about 30 minutes to get home by bus. Novels were my regular companions during each trip, but today, I did not feel like reading. My mind was on Eunice and her father.
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Note: Cekodok is a traditional round fritter made from flour and usually bananas, which is then fried.
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Tangled Dreams
General Fiction8 people. 2 countries. 1 life. Just how tangled up can one be in pursuit of dreams? Experience the journey of different walk of lives as each of them pursue a dream that might or might not be theirs. And in that pursuit, do they know for sure what i...
