Autumn on the Balcony

 

 

 I sighed as I watched the wind steer the rain onto the balcony. What's the point of having one when you can only enjoy it for three months of the year? Four if you're lucky. The rich smell of freshly brewed coffee drew me back to the stove.

Then I remembered that I’d be stepping into the cold corridor after my steaming-hot shower. I kicked myself for not switching the heater on the very moment I got out of bed and sipped my espresso extra slowly to delay the inevitable. A flash from my phone caught my eye. I leaned over to see what it was, even though I knew that whoever it was would have to wait. It was a message from Mae:

‘I'm so excited xx’ 

I was suddenly reminded of why I was awake and up at eight on a Sunday morning. Mae and I met at university. She was my friend crush. You know how, when you like someone, you want to be part of their life, have them in yours, and imagine what it would be like? It was like that, but purely platonic.

I admired Mae because she was unapologetically herself. She had a one-of-a-kind humour, was wildly adventurous, and cared greatly for the people around her. I was never keen on group assignments, but it brought us together. I purposely joined the presentation group that she was already in. The rest is history. To this day, she remains completely oblivious. We hadn't seen each other since graduation. I returned to Holland, and she returned to England. Mae always made it seem like you’d just talked, even if months had passed. Even so, it was definitely time for a real reunion.

Mae was thriving in her new job as a medical engineer and was sent on an assignment here in Amsterdam. The only time our schedules aligned was on her final day. Since her flight was in the late afternoon, we decided to grab a quick meal together before she left.

That daunting shower? Well, it wasn’t so bad when I remembered it was for something—or, should I say, someone—worth it. We chose a quaint little café on a quiet street corner, known for its picturesque views and highly rated all-day brunch menu. We ordered some of everything to share. Before we could even blink, our table resembled a small feast. We worked our way through the dishes, rating each one as though we were seasoned food critics. In the end, we agreed that it had exceeded our expectations and that we’d soon be back. The pancakes were my favourite. The fluffiness was just right, and the maple syrup struck the perfect balance between sweet and nutty. Mae’s favourites were the scrambled eggs and the veggie sausages. They reminded her of her childhood, she said.

With our to-go bags in tow, we stumbled out of the café in a burst of laughter. Our full bellies led the way through the doorway.
‘I don't care what anybody says,’ I declared with the flair of a drunk man. ‘The entire notion of brunch is just a huge marketing ploy, and we’ve all fallen for it! Breakfast is before noon, and lunch is after. It's that simple.’ 
‘You're probably right, but does it matter? Brunch may not be real, but it is a vibe,’ Mae laughed.
 I couldn't help but chuckle. It fascinated me how we could see the same thing through completely different lenses.
‘Those flats are gorgeous. Look how adorable those balconies are,’ Mae cooed, her voice brimming with admiration as we strolled along the canals.

‘It's like something out of a movie,’ I replied, my gaze lingering on the tiny balconies. They had swirly Parisian-style railings, and a few were adorned with matching bistro sets. Talk about a vibe, I thought to myself. ‘Imagine having your morning coffee out there,’ I said longingly.
‘Don't you have a balcony?’ Mae asked, glancing over at me.
 ‘Yeah,’ I admitted, stretching the word longer than needed.
‘So why don't you?’ she asked with a furrowed brow. I shrugged and said I didn't know, but the truth was, I didn't feel like explaining. My balcony wasn't as scenic as the ones we were gawking at. It didn't have the same charm.

‘It just wouldn't be the same,’ I muttered.
‘You need to romanticise your life from time to time. Just get yourself a warm bite to eat with a freshly brewed cup of tea, leave your phone inside and enjoy the moment,’ Mae replied.
I felt a small wave of relief as we finally reached her hotel.

Her colleagues were already waiting in the lobby, packed and ready to go, so we exchanged quick goodbyes. Once I was alone again, her words from earlier lingered in my mind, swirling around far longer than I’d expected. I loved Mae's optimism. It was infectious, but sometimes I felt like she lived with her head in the clouds. And while that's perfectly fine for her, I'd much rather keep my feet firmly planted on the ground.

***

I felt a vibration against my leg and fished my phone out of my pocket. ‘Maeday’ lit up the screen, and I quickly peeled off my dish gloves to answer the video call. It had been about three weeks since she left, and there was already so much to catch up on. As we chatted, I didn't even realise I'd powered through the entire pile of dishes until it was time to wipe the water off the countertop, a task I secretly loved. The clean, dry surface felt like a final reward.
‘Have you done it yet?’ Mae asked abruptly, breaking the flow of our conversation. She continued when she noticed my confused expression. ‘Breakfast on the balcony,’ she clarified with a grin.
‘Oh,’ realisation dawned on me.
‘It's been rainy and freezing, so no,’ I said, trying to sound casual.
‘Okay,’ she simply replied.
The conversation drifted to other topics, but I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that her okay carried something more. It wasn't malicious or anything like that. Just indifferent. And that indifference unsettled me.

Mae was always the type to nudge you persistently with her cheerful encouragement. But this time, she simply let it go. For some reason, that stung. I stared at the now gleaming countertop, my excuse replaying in my head. The weather, really? It was as pathetic as it sounded. Deep down, I knew it, and I think she did too.

My gaze drifted to the window as I filled up the kettle the following morning. The sun shone brightly, but I wasn't letting it fool me. I opted for a change, swapping my usual coffee for a milky Earl Grey tea.
I paused as I was about to leave the kitchen. It was now or never. I scanned the kitchen for some leftover pastries. I don't know who I was kidding. I couldn't even recall the last time I bought pastries, let alone had leftovers lying around. I looked around once more and was pleased with what I saw. Two stale slices of bread. A moment in the toaster and a spread of butter would bring them back to life. 

With resolve, I dragged the taped-up wooden bistro set out of the storage and awkwardly set it up on the balcony. I then bundled up in my tatty robe and the warmest, fluffiest socks I owned before stepping outside. The cold hit me immediately. I felt my body temperature plummet the moment my foot touched the concrete, while pale ribbons of steam curled from my tea in the brisk air.

The whole thing felt forced. I sighed in deep frustration, but as I inhaled, the crisp mid-autumn air caught me off guard, filling my lungs. It was invigorating. And just like that, I felt energised and yet relaxed. My dormant senses came alive for the first time in ages.

A flock of birds sliced across the sky as they migrated south. Fallen leaves crunched like paper below passing feet. The earthy scent of autumn filled the air around me, while the cold bite of the air against the back of my hands contrasted with the warmth of the large mug nestled in my palms. And taste? That humble breakfast of tea and toast was unexpectedly perfect. Simple yet flavourful. Better than any pastry I’d been hoping to find.

I considered grabbing my phone to capture it all. A quick snap to share with Mae, but I dismissed the thought quickly. This moment wasn't for anyone else. It was for me. For once, I was fully present.

I wasn’t lounging in an affluent neighbourhood, draped in silk with fur slippers on my feet, the morning paper arranged on an ornate bistro table. But at that moment, none of it mattered. My life felt just right. I finally understood Mae. Romance wasn’t something you waited for. It was something you created in the small, imperfect moments of everyday life.