I load up boxes of the things we had in the back room — CDs we listened to, the calendar with the funny notes and cartoons we’d drawn on it, personal items — because you settle in when it’s two years.
I take the garbage out for the last time.
It’s 5:30 and dark out and everyone is next door at the Toasted Frog. The sidewalks are icy and we make several trips to her car and truck. Our shoes pick up salt and slush and I realize I won’t ever have to mop or sweep that floor again.
She is a little silent. There are mixed feelings for both of us — relief and sadness — and I look at the mural I painted and realize it will soon be gone, too. The brown tables. The empty cases.
A man comes to the door and tries to get in. We keep working, but he is insistent, and the phone begins to ring. It is him, and so I go to the door.
We’re closed, I say.
But we want to have a wedding consultation, he insists.
It’s after hours anyway, but we are really closed. For good, I say. We are closed for good.
He leaves after a moment of confusion, and I go back to loading up boxes.
Another man comes to the door and she opens it this time and he sees me standing there and inquires after all the other employees but me, and I wonder why, after two years, he continues to refuse to acknowledge me. It’s too bad you’re closing, he says to her.
I think of my co-workers and feel sad. Elizabeth, and the funny moments with her. Kristin, who was quick to laugh at my stupid jokes. Courtney’s delicious Italian wedding soup. Nathan’s spotless sink. The jokes, the Disney music and crazy dancing when no one was around. The dough pets and bagel fights and my imitation of a shrieking monkey. We had some fun sometimes.
She locks the door as the man walks away, and we return to packing and cleaning.
I think of the angry emails, the cruel comments, and the critiques people left online, and I wonder what place these last two years will have in my life once I put in some distance from them.
We are almost finished.
I think of the regular customers I grew to enjoy — Beverly, Connie, David, Peter, Emily, the Raspberry Scone guy, the Molasses Cookie Guy, the Roast Beef Provolone Guy, Mr. Coffee and Caramel Roll, and Quiche Grandma — so many, and so many more. I realize how I will miss those regulars who were so kind and so patient with three very tired and very broke workers who didn’t always come with their game face.
That’s the last of it, she says.
So for three years she has put every last bit of effort into this place and now we are done and I wonder how people will react. Will they understand, or will it be a matter of gift certificates not used and things we didn’t do right? Will we fade quietly away and let some of those difficult memories go? Were we people , or only people who made them food? No more making quiche, no more scones, no more messy brownies, no more cakes and cut hands from the cake knife slipping, no more dirty dishes. Thousands of cupcakes, cookies, bagels — done.
Yeah, I say, that’s it.
I think of how I was always worried that the cookies were burning, and how I might never make egg salad ever again. I tell myself that I’m done with baking. So much change, and all at once.
I take one last long look around. Goodbye, Patisserie. It was quite a ride, I think.
She flips off the light and we walk out for the last time.
Many years ago my mother and oldest sister opened a fabric store/alteration shop and poured their heart and soul into it. For three years or so they crafted team cheerleader uniforms, wedding dresses, prom dresses and the like….truly professional works of art. They were left with little more than bitter memories after the years of customer complaints over prices. They closed and liquidated the shop and it was nearly torn apart by the same complaining customers coming to snatch the bargains.
A vivid piece of writing for a sad moment. I’m always sorry to hear about the end of a business like the Patisserie, and I wish customers were more thoughtful and appreciative of small businesses that strive for high quality. I take it the owner decided she needed a job that would pay a living wage?
How’d you guess, Michael?
Yeah. For all of us, I think, we were worn out and weren’t seeing much personal financial return. You can’t keep doing that.
Chambers of commerce like to make a big deal about convention centers and downtown beautification projects as ways to bring visitors and new industries, but they undervalue places like the Patisserie. Someone visits a city for the first time and finds a cozy place for coffee and dessert downtown and suddenly they see the whole city in a positive light. If banks and lawyers and assorted chamber of commerce big shots would use local businesses instead of chains to cater their business lunches and events, it would help boost the city’s uniqueness and appeal to newcomers.
So what’s next for you, Julie?
(Some pretty cool and exciting things, Michael. I’ll probably write more later once I feel like it’s for real.)
You did a great job of capturing the moment. It’s almost sounds like breaking up with a long-time, live-in boyfriend. Had to be tough, but I’ll bet (with time) there will also be a certain (perhaps guilty) sense of relief, as well.
[...] decided to try again. We made scones at the shop all the time, except that wasn’t one of my usual tasks and I can’t seem to remember [...]