Work Text:
Tiffany stepped into the bustling cafe. It was mid-afternoon now, and the light from outside streamed through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Even indoors, Tiffany could feel the warmth on her skin.
It seemed that today was going her way - she had the day off, Chad had taken the kids to school, and he would be staying late at work tonight.
She had also been lucky enough to be alone that morning, which she had needed after another one of her dreams. She smiled at the memory of erotic encounter from the night before, then to Skroce as she approached the counter. He returned her smile warmly.
“Afternoon, Tiff. The ‘ushe?” he asked.
Tiffany had never enjoyed fancy coffee, opting for an americano with one cream and sugar instead, but she felt like something different. ‘Why the hell not?’
“You know what, Skroce? I’m going wild. I’ll have a cortado today.”
It was a minor change to her routine, nothing to bat an eye at, but Tiffany felt proud of herself. It felt empowering yet somewhat sad that a switch from water to milk in her espresso had such an impact on her self-worth. She didn’t dwell on the thought for long before a voice spoke behind her.
“Mind if I get that?”
Tiffany turned towards the voice and was surprised to see Thomas. She didn’t think she would see him again, especially after how awkward their first meeting had been, and she was more than happy to see him more relaxed this time.
Thomas was as handsome as she remembered but he stood more confidently this time and he seemed to radiate an inviting warmth that Tiffany felt drawn to. She couldn’t help but look him up and down appreciatively - Tiffany hoped he didn’t notice.
She was too distracted to notice that he had already paid for her coffee. Once she realized what he had done, she tried to argue, but he waved his hand as if to swat away her protests. Tiffany relented and thanked him.
They paused for a moment and Tiffany found herself getting lost in his eyes. At first glance, they were a deep, warm brown, but now she could see that they were flecked with gold.
Skroce cleared his throat behind her. Tiffany turned back to the counter and she already felt as though she lost something when she had torn her eyes away from Thomas. She glanced down at the coffee. Skroce must have noticed her staring because he had given them both ceramic mugs instead of to-go cups.
She felt her cheeks flush and, without turning back to Thomas, asked, “Care to join me?”
Tiffany wasn’t sure what compelled her to invite Thomas to join her. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, or maybe it was the softness in his voice. Whatever it was, she had felt the urge and acted on it, and was more than pleased when he agreed.
Although their conversation had been superficial at first, Tiffany enjoyed his company. It was as if they were two old friends catching up rather than strangers getting to know each other. She noted how he leaned forward each time she spoke as if to hang onto her every word, and Tiffany appreciated how attentive he was. She couldn’t remember the last time someone listened to her so intently nor did she realize how badly she needed someone to do so until now.
While Thomas wanted to learn more about her, Tiffany wanted to ask a few questions of her own. The need to learn more about him was overwhelming and she was relieved when Thomas let her steer the conversation away from herself.
It didn’t take long for them to realize how much they had in common; they both frequented the same noodle shop, they loved to read poetry, and their favourite movie was Before Sunrise. The more they talked, the more fascinated Tiffany became. If Chad wasn’t in the picture, Tiffany could see herself being interested in Tom. At least interested enough to act on it. She felt a little bit guilty as she lusted after the man sitting across from her but at this point in her life, she wasn’t interested in causing marital strife.
The conversation began to slow in time with their emptying mugs. Not wanting Thomas to leave, Tiffany offered to get them another round. She didn’t need the caffeine but she did need more time with Thomas. He nodded enthusiastically in response.
“So,” Tiffany began after rejoining Tom at their table. “What’s it like being famous?”
Thomas’ cheeks turned a deep shade of pink and Tiffany noted how cute he looked when he was flustered. He looked away momentarily before meeting her gaze again.
“I wouldn’t say I’m famous,” he said, sheepishly.
“That’s not what Jude said.”
Thomas blushed harder.
“Jude says a lot of things,” Thomas laughed awkwardly as he brought his mug to his lips. Tiffany raised an eyebrow and waited for Thomas to take a sip.
“Are they true?”
Thomas sputtered on his coffee, clearly taken by surprise by Tiffany’s question, and Tiffany found it hilarious - she liked teasing him.
When he finally recovered, Thomas gave her a knowing grin. He knew exactly what he was doing and the gleam in his eyes was evidence that he also liked their bantering. “Jude isn’t the fountain of knowledge he thinks he is.” Tiffany nodded in agreement. Jude gave her the impression that he didn’t know much about anything.
They were silent again. It was a comfortable silence, though, and they found themselves lost in each other's eyes again. The way Thomas looked at her made Tiffany feel nostalgic for something or someone she couldn’t quite place. She must have known someone who looked at her with the same admiration before but she couldn’t remember who.
It seemed like she couldn’t remember much these days.
Tiffany was told that her motorcycle accident had been gruesome and that she was lucky to be alive and, while her body recovered, her mind never did. She didn’t have time to dwell on her memory loss, not with Chad dumping all the responsibilities of maintaining a home and raising children on her. But now, time seemed too slow and the earnest - almost loving - look Thomas gave her now made her desperately wish she knew who he reminded her of.
After some time, Thomas finally spoke and revived the conversation.
“So you have two kids?”
His voice seemed distant now and his words barely registered. She was too busy grasping at the loose threads of broken memories that plagued her day and night.
“Tiff?”
Tiffany blinked at him twice. Kids? Right. She had those.
“Three. Two boys and a girl. They can be a handful sometimes, but the little moments make it worth it.”
It was an honest response and Tiffany meant it. She didn’t share that she couldn’t remember many of the little moments from when her kids were young and that her kids were distant now. It was a sore spot for her, not remembering the milestones and her childrens’ indifference, and it made her feel like a failure of a mother.
“So, did you always want kids,” he asked, oblivious to her inner turmoil. It wasn’t the first time she heard the question before. She was usually the one asking it. Tiffany gripped her mug tighter and averted her eyes. She loved her kids but it wasn’t good enough. They deserved better. ‘So do I.’
“Sorry, I’m overstepping, aren’t I?”
Tiffany met his eyes again. They were sad and apologetic. She forced a reassuring smile, hoping to ease both his and her concerns. His response wasn’t surprising, nor were her emotions, but she was surprised by her openness to share so much of herself with him.
“I remember wanting a family, but was that because that’s what women are supposed to want? How do you know you want something yourself or if your upbringing programmed you to want it?”
It wasn’t a complete lie but Tiffany still felt a pang of guilt for being dishonest; it felt so much easier than admitting that she couldn’t remember a time that she had ever wanted a family.
Tiffany was a career woman at heart. She loved working with her hands and the thin layer of grime that coated them when she was assembling a bike. She wore the scent of engine oil as a perfume by the time she left work. She loved it - it felt nostalgic and it reminded her of home, wherever that was. Home wasn’t in the suburbs, which she knew for certain.
Thomas looked at her without judgement and Tiffany felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had been carrying the guilt for so long and, while she didn’t fully admit how she felt, it was a start and she was glad that Thomas was such a good listener.
“I pay my analyst a lot of money to answer such questions,” he replied with a hint of humour in his voice.
An analyst. Tiffany had tried therapy once but decided that she didn’t like the idea of sharing her personal life with a stranger. The irony of her sharing her personal life with a man she just met wasn’t lost on her.
“Smart. I should get more therapy but honestly, I’m too goddamn tired. Kids are exhausting, you know?
But she knew he didn’t. She looked him up online after meeting him, and she knew that he wasn’t married, never had been, and didn’t have kids. Tiffany also knew that he was elusive and avoided the media, especially after his suicide attempt. The rumours seemed endless during the months following the attempt and Tiffany chose to skip any articles that mentioned it.
“No. Never had kids,” he answered.
Thomas sounded sad, as if in mourning, and Tiffany felt guilty. She didn’t intend to offend him with her comment. She apologized, but Thomas’ expression didn’t change. Tiffany racked her brain for something to ease the tension.
“Sorry, I googled you,” she admitted, hoping Thomas noticed her teasing tone. Her efforts were well-received and she was rewarded with a soft chuckle. God, she loved the sound of his laugh.
Tiffany changed the subject to something lighter. “So, what’s it like being a world-famous game designer? Must be amazing."
She was genuinely interested in Thomas’ work and she hoped that he would have lots to say. She couldn’t begin to explain how badly she wanted him to sit and talk with her longer.
“Uh…a lot of hours. Sometimes it’s amazing. Most times…I don’t know…” Thomas trailed off and looked down at the table before finding Tiffany’s gaze again. There was a deep sense of sadness in his eyes. Tiffany’s breath hitched as she fought the urge to take his hand in hers. She didn’t expect him to get so withdrawn over his life’s work.
Her innate need to comfort and soothe was overwhelming. Tiffany swallowed hard. She had been here before, seated across from a man completely at a loss and unable to help him. She bit her lip. She would have to deal with the uncertainty of that thought later. She turned her attention back to Thomas, who was now running his hands up and down his thighs.
“But you made The Matrix. Even I’ve heard of that,” she said in a self-effacing tone. She hoped her attempt at humour would put him at ease.
“Yeah. We kept some kids entertained,” he admitted, seemingly taking the compliment. Tiffany lifted her mug and toasted his achievement then leaned back in her chair as she watched Thomas for a moment while she mustered up the courage to ask him about his game.
Something about her life felt wrong and, at first, she chalked it up to memory loss. But after meeting Thomas, looking at clips from his game, the deep-seated feeling that she knew him in her past had her reeling. The whispers of uncertainty kept her up at night. The only time they subsided was in her dreams. And now, with Thomas.
Tiffany took a grounding deep breath.
“Can I ask you a question?” Her voice was hesitant and no amount of false bravado could hide her nervousness. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and her chill ran down her spine. She didn’t wait for Thomas to answer her.
“Did you base your main character on yourself?” The question was innocent enough – plenty of artists based their creations on themselves – but Tiffany wasn’t interested in Thomas’ creative process. There was something else on her mind. Thomas confirmed her suspicions so Tiffany continued.
“There’s a woman in your game…” she began. Tiffany couldn’t bring herself to say the name of the lead heroine aloud. The discomfort she felt was indescribable and seemed to stem from nowhere.
Thomas finished her sentence for her, saying the name softly.
“Trinity.”
Trinity.
The name evoked something deep inside her, more so when Thomas was the one saying it. It felt unexplainabley right.
“Which is also a weird coincidence, right?” It wasn’t a question. Nothing made sense anymore but Thomas still sat across from her, his sincerity unwavering as he listened to her every word. He seemed to understand exactly what Tiffany meant even though she hardly understood it herself.
“I like her,” Tiffany admitted. “I like Trinity.” She felt proud. Proud that she was able to finally say the name aloud and proud that she had the strength to do so.
“And I dig her Ducati. Another coincidence. I love motorcycles.”
And she did. So much so that she was unwilling to get rid of her bikes even after her accident. It didn’t matter that she and her husband argued over it almost weekly. The bikes were hers and the only time she felt like herself was when she rode down the empty freeways at sunset.
“My friend Kush and I actually build them,” she explained. It was so easy to be candid with Thomas.
“Really?” Thomas asked. His eyes glowed with genuine interest and Tiffany couldn’t help but beam with pride. It was refreshing for someone to show interest in her hobby and line of work.
“You have your analyst, I have my bikes,” she said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Another moment passed and Tiffany found herself staring at Thomas’ lips. They were soft and pillowy. Desperate for a distraction, she took another sip of her cortado. She almost felt brave enough to kiss him. Almost.
Thomas seemed distracted by something. He looked down nervously at the table and Tiffany could see that he was gripping the sleeves of his jacket tightly, rolling the fabric between his fingers. He seemed to grasp at his clothing each time she mentioned something about his game. While she didn’t want to cause him more stress, Tiffany pressed on.
“So, I was looking at images of your game…at Trinity. Well, I showed Chad a scene and I was like, ‘So, what do you think?’”
Her eyes cast down to the table and her reflection looked back at her. She looked scared and confused. She looked tired. Tiffany took a shaky breath; she hoped Thomas wouldn’t react the same way Chad did.
“He didn’t get it until I said, ‘Don’t you think she looks like me?’”
Her words hung in the air and she wished she could take them back. Thomas gripped his sleeves tighter and Tiffany felt embarrassed. It was silly to think she looked like a character 20 years her junior. Trinity was everything she wasn’t.
Trinity was headstrong, determined, and free. She didn’t take shit from anyone. She loved and was loved. Tiffany would give anything to feel half as strong as Trinity and any resemblance she saw had to be in her head. It had to be.
“You know what he did?” she asked. Thomas shook his head ‘no.’ “He laughed.”
Tiffany felt her blood boiling as it had the night she showed Chad the images. He mocked and ridiculed her and she had felt small and defeated.
Thomas’ expression changed to one that she couldn’t quite place. It was one of…disappointment? His brow furrowed and it was as though was as hurt and angry as she was.
Relieved by his reaction, Tiffany continued.
“And I laughed too,” she said flippantly. “Like it was a joke. How could it not be, right?”
But Thomas didn’t laugh or nod in agreement. Maybe it meant nothing. Or maybe…it meant everything.
What came out of her mouth next surprised her. She always kept her darkest thoughts to herself but she couldn’t stop her words even if she tried.
“I hated myself for laughing.” She lowered her voice. “I wanted to kick him so hard. Not too hard. Maybe just hard enough to break his jaw off.”
Tiffany wasn’t a violent person by nature, but something about Chad and his controlling arrogance made her see red. Even the way he looked at her made her skin crawl.
Thomas, on the other hand, made her feel calm and at ease. The tension in her shoulders dissipated the moment he greeted her hours ago. There wasn’t a time that she ever felt this way, not that she could remember, and Tiffany wished that Thomas was the one by her side instead of Chad. Thomas’ gaze made her feel light; she wanted his eyes to linger on her for the rest of her life.
Tiffany had never felt so deeply connected to anyone before. They had only just met, but she felt like she had known him for a lifetime. It was almost as though they had a history. In a few short hours, they had opened their hearts to each other and Trinity felt safe in his presence.
It felt like she had been waiting her whole life for him, she just didn’t realize it until she met him.
She wanted to tell him how she felt. How she felt like everything about her life felt wrong until he looked at her. How she had forgotten about her loveless marriage and three kids and that she increasingly found herself wishing they didn’t exist.
Tiffany longed to tell him that holding his hand when they first met made her feel alive, like a pulse of electricity flowed through her the moment his fingertips brushed against her skin. She wanted to ask him if he felt the same way.
She wanted him to know how badly she wanted to kiss him and how it felt like her life depended on it. She wanted him to hold her in his arms and comfort her as they worked through her confusion together. She wanted him to stroke her hair and whisper that everything was going to be alright. And she knew that she would believe him because he had no reason to lie to her.
But Tiffany held back. She didn’t want to scare him away. In actuality, she was the scared one.
“And right now, you’re probably regretting sitting down with me,” she lamented, all too aware of the slight shake to her voice.
To her surprise – and relief – the corners of Thomas’ lips curved upwards. God, she loved his smile. ‘It’s nice to see him without that worried expression,’ she thought to herself. She furrowed her brow for a moment. Nothing made sense anymore.
Thomas’ voice brought her back to reality and gave her an immense feeling of relief.
“This is the best thing I’ve done in a long time.”
It took everything in Tiffany to fight the urge to lean over the table and kiss him. He somehow knew what to say to slow her racing thoughts. And he was honest. The connection she felt towards him seemed to grow and she couldn’t deny how loved she felt. It didn’t matter how irrational his supposed affection was. What mattered now was that Thomas was here with her and they both were enthralled in each other.
The urge to act on her desires was becoming harder to ignore. Tiffany shifted in her chair anxiously. She leaned back in her seat and took a slow, deep breath. Tiffany wanted to kiss him. She needed to. It would go one of two ways – either he would kiss her back and everything would feel right in the world, or she would have to find a new cafe.
She decided to take the chance and mentally prepared herself to push back her chair, rise, and bend over to kiss him. But before she could stand, the shrill ringing of her phone snapped her attention to her bag that hung on the back of her chair. Tiffany shot Thomas an apologetic look before answering.
She hardly listened to the person on the other line, hearing only keywords and phrases. The conversation was short. She hung up the phone and tossed it back into her purse before looking at Thomas again.
“My, uh, youngest stuck a Lego up his nose.”
Tiffany’s body screamed at her; the muscles in her legs were tense and her lips tingled at the lack of sensation. But the moment had passed. Thomas probably didn’t feel the same anyways – ‘He’s just being nice," she rationalized – It was the only explanation for why he had sat with her in the cafe for the last four hours. ‘Had it really been that long?’
She reached for her bag and stood up.
“I gotta go. I hope to see you again.”
Her words were laced with regret. She hoped Thomas understood how much she meant the sentiment. He whispered a soft goodbye and Tiffany had to strain to hear him. She convinced herself that she imagined the heartbreak in his voice. Tears stung the corner of her eyes as she turned and walked away quickly, not wanting him to see.
When she reached the door, Tiffany turned to give him one last longing glance. His eyes were still fixated on her. He looked helpless and lost. His fingers dug into his thighs again.
Tiffany smiled sadly before opening the door and stepping outside and back into her reality. The emotions she felt seemed to dissipate instantly. She felt right as rain.
That night, though, the mysterious dream man was replaced by Thomas. Instead of frantic lovemaking, he held her close and murmured into her hair, promising that everything was going to be alright.
He called her Trinity.