The Table in Edinburgh

John was alone in Edinburgh for the weekend. The whole weekend. The girl he was hoping to spend the day with (and who knows, perhaps the night as well) had not arrived on the 8:53 train from Glasgow.

He waited as planned at the coffee shop where they had first met. They had planned to sit at that same table where they first met, but it was occupied. He sat down at the adjacent table looking towards the street.

When she did not arrive on the 9:17 train either, he decided to recheck his phone.

Indeed, she had texted him saying that she had woken up late (blah blah blah), had things to do around the house (blah blah blah), needed to visit her grandmother (who doesn’t?) and wouldn’t be coming after all.

There was no need to hide his disappointment. His hopes for a fun day, a tryst and perhaps even a lasting relationship had just faded away like the red in an old curtain.

John slid his chin onto his clasped hands, the rest of his head coming along for the ride.

Suddenly a voice. “You look like you were just run over by some bad news.”

He turned around. It was a girl who, of all places, was sitting at ‘their table’. Not a bad looking girl, either. Brunette, curly hair, green eyes. Great smile.

“Yes, I was just stood up by someone.”

“Oh, that. Happens to me all the time. Well, why don’t you come over to my table, and we’ll finish our coffee and have a walk round Edinburgh. My choir practice isn’t till noon.”

Sandra (her name) never made it to the choir practice. They walked the streets of Edinburgh, singing Everly Brothers tunes in harmony.

Sandra and John are now married and living in Glasgow. Whenever they come to Edinburgh they sit at “the table”.

He never told her that it is also the table from another story. And never will.