The Crying Man

I lean over and put a comforting arm of reassurance around Simon. His head is down, almost on the table and his shoulders are violently shaking as he releases all the emotions he's been holding on to. He's a silent crier, thank god. At least there's no wailing or loud sobbing. I look around the café momentarily and a few people in the coffee line are looking at us. The other tables seem to be talking amongst themselves for the time being. The waitress who took our order seemed uncomfortable, she could obviously pick up on some drama. She left quickly but I can feel her looking over at us every couple of minutes and I know she's probably already told her co-workers about the crying man at table 30. I hope she doesn't ask what's wrong when she comes back. I couldn't bear the thought of it.

"Chin up Simon. Come on. Everything's going to be alright", I say, leaning towards his bowed head and pulling him closer to me with my arm. I just wish he'd stop crying like a big baby, I'm not used to it and it's kind of embarrassing.

Caitlyn walked away from table 30 quickly. She'd never seen a grown man cry like that in a public space, or at all. She felt sorry for him as he had tried to blubber out his order but thankfully the woman with him knew what he was saying. She wondered what their relationship was. The woman seemed kind enough but not overly concerned, she seemed a little embarrassed. Caitlyn kept flicking a glance their way as she got their order prepared. She was tossing up whether or not she should walk back over and place some extra napkins on the table so the guy could wipe his eyes but she didn't know if that would be appropriate. Maybe he just wanted to pretend like nobody noticed anything. Yes, she thought. That's the least awkward situation, she'd just walk over and give them their drinks and wish them a nice day.

The waitress returned with our order and I looked up and smiled slightly. She did the same back and said; "Have a good day folks , then walked away. She had kind eyes. I wondered for a moment what she must think of me, a man of my age crying like this. I didn't care. I steadied my breathing and watched as Phillipa took a sip of green tea. She's always so calm and collected. She ordered me a chamomile tea to steady my nerves but it's not what I wanted. I don't even know what I wanted. What kind of beverage do you order when you've just said goodbye to your beloved dog? Phillipa doesn't get it. She's never been an animal lover. She thinks I'm insane, that it's hurt me so much but I can't help it. Spike was my best friend. Twelve years of unconditional love, walking, playing, chilling out on the couch. A true companion and friend now gone forever. I feel the tears well up in my eyes again and there's a lump in my throat that burns. Phillipa breathes out heavily which results in a large sigh and she looks at me.

"Simon, come on now. You've got to stop crying. It's alright, he's not in any pain and you gave him a good life. You can always get another dog when you feel better. Here take some tea", she said pushing the teacup and saucer in front of me.

A few hot tears run down my cheeks and I look at my sister and wonder if she'd say the same thing if a person died. Maybe I'll just replace her one day when she's gone.