Springtime is for lovers

The Almond Tree café isn’t exactly what you would call a popular tourist destination. Its story is interesting to be sure, but it frequently lacks customers for no other reason than the laziness of the people who might visit.

Now before you get uppity about my insulting of the fine people that may come here, imagine the scenario. You, a regular person from a backwater village, get told of a wonderful place. A place where the drinks are cheap, the fireplace is warm, and the company is good.

Great, you might say. Yet, upon hearing directions, how you would need to go off the dirt roads and into the magical mushroom forest, a place where if one is not careful, they could literally go insane, and then find one almond tree in a troop of many, is it a wonder why, if this café is supposed to be so good, why has no one provided a map for the less adventurous among the people to come here.

To be honest, it’s not much of a wonder. The literacy rate of the Kingdom of Westerland is about six percent.

However, on one particular day, the first day of spring, there was an attempt to change that.

Please, do come in.

***

Gwen Greenbottle narrowed her eyes. She had been at this for hours, so many hours. She couldn’t understand why this was so difficult. You take a nail; you hammer it into a tree; the nail stays in. She forced back a curse as another nail bounced in, then out of the trunk of the tree.

“Ouch darling! You know, you are the world’s worst acupuncturist. If I wanted the best of eastern culture, I’d pack up roots and make for the Jade Isles myself! I bet they’d know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

“Oh, get lost, you rotting old plank.” Gwen waved a hand casually. “You know we need to put the sign up. We do this every year. It’s difficult to get customers as is, but with the Spring Harvest going, more people are going to be coming to Westerland from far and wide. We are a multi-cultural tourist destination, remember?”

“If I wanted to, I could walk away from this right now. This is slave labour!”

Gwen made a show of preparing another nail.

The tree gasped. “I will not be rendered a pin cushion for your capitalist agenda! Down with the oligarchy! Viva la revolution! Eat the rich!

“Really?” A smile played across Gwen’s lips. “Because I was talking to that Oak you sway at sometimes. What was his name again?”

“Graham.”

“That’s it! Anyway, I told them about the advertising campaign, and they were very impressed. I quote: I wouldn’t mind exchanging pollen with such a strong, enterprising, community minded being, I find altruism very attractive."

“They said that?”

“As sure as your new blossoms are fabulous, is that a new shade of magenta this bloom? it looks good on you, really brings out the sheen of your bark.”

The air carried within it a still silence. Gwen really hated talking like a big city cosmetic salesperson, it very much hurt her mouth. She would be much more comfortable telling the tree that doubled as her café to piss right off. She was by this point, however, well versed in the mood swings and temperament of her colleague, so she waited and quietly counted under her breath. “Three, two, one.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, woman!? Businesses are ultimately good for all of us, the freer the market, the freer the people, HAMMER THOSE NAILS IN ME!”

She smiled. It was too easy sometimes. She wished that all her customers were as easy to deal with as the tree. If all it took was a few tears and a compliment, she could probably retire early.

***

Springtime is for lovers. So declared the sign reluctantly hoisted upon the café exterior. Gwen knew her only job now was to endure all the sickeningly sweet romanticism that would envelop her business for the next twenty-four hours. It was all in the name of profit; she told herself. After today, she could go back to the sweet sound of the quiet rumble of her sparsely occupied business.

Now though…

“Yeah, so like, we’re in love and stuff” a glitter clad Automaton droned. They were clearly just as bored as Gwen was, and their lack of desire to be at the event was matched only by the eagerness of the Catfolk gentleman attached to their arm.

“Really?” Gwen asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes!” the Catfolk said. “Lizzy is my muse, my flame, my everything! I would crawl into the Dark Lord’s pit if that’s what it took to declare my undying love for them! I would end my own life!”

“I really wish you wouldn’t. The last time someone spilt blood on my floors, I had necromancers chanting outside for a week.”

The Automaton’s eyes sparked to life. “Oh, my gosh! Really?”

“No, not really. They tried, but I took my axe to their skulls to make them leave. It was the blood leeches that came after that who become the problem.”

“Oh, my days! You’re like a boss ass bitch! Go off, queen!”

“What about me, my angel?”

“I guess, whatever.”

Gwen quickly grew tired of the couple. She knew that Elizabeth, to put it politely, was a robot that was used to playing the field and while she felt sorry for the hapless well-meaning gentlemen that was with her for the moment, given that the only love she had was for her old axe from her mercenary days, she could appreciate individual freedom over feeling sorry for a less than capable guy.

Doing her due diligence, though, she kept glancing periodically at the anatomically mismatched couple. She was very glad she did.

The first time she looked around, she saw the young man begging and pleading with Lizzy about something. The second time he was serenading her with a song, and the third he was sobbing frantically, trying to tie a noose of rope to the tree.

It was at that point, bored with the idea of romance entirely, she asked him to leave.

***

It was at the seventy-fifth attempt to write his opening paragraph of his one hundredth attempt to write a novel that Gregory Goode decided he needed to go outside. Making his way to the cafe was easy now given that there was a giant magically lit sign declaring that springtime is for lovers or some such nonsense.

The fact that Gwen had agreed to go along with this disgusting display of commercialism was astounding to him, but it wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go, and besides, he really needed a cup of coffee.

When he arrived, he opened the gate to the entrance of the garden, though he did not expect something to rugby tackle him. With a loud thump, he fell bottom first onto the floor with something attached to him. He realised after a couple of seconds of rather pathetic struggling that something was Gwen.

“Gregory, you miserly old bastard, where have you been? I've been alone, having to deal with these lovesick fools all day. I needed somebody to be grumpy with.”

Gregory did not respond. He was still deeply ashamed after the conversation with Gwen yesterday. He could not admit it though, he could not admit a lot of things, so instead he just stood in silence.”

Gwen noticed her mistake and smiled. “Bit too commercial, isn't it?”

“Yes, absolutely it's ridiculous! If people want to find love and they want to talk about how happy they are, they should do that in the privacy of their own homes! I don't want to hear about that kind of stuff! For all I know, they could be lying.”

Gwen sighed in relief. She was happy to have been able to cheer up her friend, but she noticed within his speech there was some kind of anguish she could not place. Gregory was always very reluctant to talk about his feelings but as the owner of a drinking establishment. It was her job to ensure the well-being of customers. At least, that's what she told herself.

“But... Would you like a partner? At all? I know you like your own company, but wouldn't you like somebody to share things with? Opinions? Story ideas?”

Gregory blushed. Even he knew it was stupid to hide it, so he just let himself go red. “In case you haven't noticed, I like to be alone. I prefer my own company. Also, I'm not stupid enough to fail to notice that everyone around me sees me as some kind of busybody know it all.”

“No, I'm sure they don't-”

“Love is nothing more than a chemical reaction. I understand this and I'm quite content to be alone. You know as well as I do that, I'm not a religious man, but I feel that if the Gods wanted me to fall in love, they would make it pretty obvious! I do not want to think about love unless it falls directly into my lap.”

***

Dear reader, I am sure that you are reading this story and thinking that you to wish that love could just randomly experience such a pivotal emotion as love. Unfortunately, you live in a world of chance and chaos, so such things are down to your effort alone. You can take comfort in the fact that I believe in you.

We, however, live in a world of fantasy. And it just so happened that on this spring afternoon the gods heard the plight of one grumpy bespectacled man, a man who secretly deep down within his heart wished to be understood, for whatever reason they chose to take pity on him.

As he felt himself take and knock to the chest and being pushed to the floor. Gregory had no idea what the Gods had waiting for the Almond tree café.