Between Cups of Coffee

by Tajalli Keshavarz

  I went to bed. Carol’s smell was still in the flat. From the shelf I took a book that I had wanted to read for a long time. I read some 20 pages before I fell asleep. As I was going to sleep, I thought of the bonsai.

  39

  In the office, I started to do some clearing up of the papers collected over the last semester. I had some time to spend on it. I left the door to my office open and had done a couple of paper stacks when Ana came in.

  ‘Could I see you?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, of course. How is your research going?’

  ‘Fine.’ She paused.

  ‘Do you want to discuss it?’

  ‘Just wanted to say that I have thought about leaving.’

  ‘Oh, yes, and?’

  ‘I have decided to go.’

  Suddenly, I had no time for her. Maybe it was because I didn’t expect her to arrive at that decision and that was why I was angry. I tried not to show it much.

  ‘Well, that’s your decision. I am sure you have thought about it carefully.’

  In a matter of seconds I had lost all my interest in her. Now I wanted her out of my office, the lab and my sight but she wouldn’t go. It was as if she expected me to insist on her staying. But that would never happen now.

  ‘I wish you all the best,’ I said.

  ‘Do you think I have made the right choice?’

  ‘I don’t know Ana, I gave you my opinion last time.’

  I knew I was cold but I didn’t feel like parenting her.

  She said, ‘thank you,’ and left quietly.

  I kept on clearing the stuff. I thought I couldn’t understand modern women. They insist so much on going to work, being equal to men. They make sure to imitate men’s behaviour in pubs and discothèques; they consider that their appetite for sex and sexual behaviour is identical to men’s. But then they are so subservient on other occasions. They are prepared to change direction with just a whisper of a promise.

  I was getting tired of filing and dealing with documents I had no particular files for. The phone rang.

  ‘Is that the idle man?’ It was Fiona on the phone. The call changed my mood. She had a special way of... how should I say... a way of always expressing herself with double meaning.

  ‘You could have been in trouble my friend! How did you know it was me? You could have dialled a wrong number,’ I said

  ‘I didn’t! But after all, all men are idle!’

  ‘Now you are placing us in an elevated position.’

  ‘Only trying to please you,’ she said.

  ‘I am pleased! You don’t need to try! Where are you? You are, I suppose, in that cold and dreary town.’

  ‘Could any place be dreary if I am in it?’

  ‘It depends on what mood you are in. You can be quite off-putting you know.’

  ‘Oh, thanks very much! I suppose this is in retaliation for what I said? I don’t budge. You men are all idle!’

  ‘If you say so! I am what you say as long as you phone, it’s OK! Anyway, what’s the occasion? You don’t phone me just to say I am idle! I would prefer it if you looked into my eyes and said it!’

  ‘I will! Just wondered if you are going to that lousy meeting Juan suggested?’

  ‘Yes I am. I told you.’

  ‘But you haven’t confirmed it with them!’

  ‘I thought everything was taken care of by your beloved colleague.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid! Are you new in this?’

  ‘Clearly someone is! It would have helped if he had sent me the necessary information. I have been waiting for the stuff.’

  ‘I will remind him of that. So we can have dinner together somewhere warm for a change.’

  ‘Great! I have to start writing the talk.’

  ‘I am sure you will do that at the last minute.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘No! I wouldn’t have accepted the talk. It is too general for my liking.’

  She would evade or argue whenever she felt like it.

  ‘But you would write at the last minute an article very specific to your work anyway.’ I said.

  ‘Well, perhaps.’

  ‘Don’t argue with me on this. I know how you work. Do you have to argue about everything? I suppose you practise it with your daughter all the time, poor Jane,’ I said.

  ‘Now you feel sorry for Jane! She is a young devil. She was a mischievous child and now, she does her best to get on my nerves. Don’t remind me of her.’

  ‘This is a mother-daughter syndrome! I thought you, as an educated mother, were much wiser.’

  ‘Now don’t be patronising!’

  ‘Would I see you before the meeting?’

  ‘Only if you bother to travel to the dreary place.’

  ‘Have things to do at present.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘Then we shall be in touch anyway! Don’t get serious! It will be nice to meet and forget about all the things around us.’

  ‘The things around us? Certainly,’ she laughed.

  40

  On my return home, I stopped at the bistro for an early supper. Hanna came over, happy to see me.

  ‘Where is your mother then?’

  ‘In bed! She has a cold.’

  ‘It must be difficult for you running this place alone.’

  ‘Yes but Mark is helping us now.’

  ‘Who is Mark?’

  ‘He is a new one. My mother employed him just three days ago.’ She went red.

  ‘Does he know how to deal with the customers?’

  ‘Yes. He was working in another restaurant until last week. He is a part-timer. He is a student of arts.’

  ‘How did she find him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think my mum put an ad in the local paper.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘I am not sure, may be twenty.’

  ‘Is he handsome?’

  She blushed again. ‘I don’t know.’

  I had a Whisky and a borsch. I didn’t feel like having a big meal. Then I asked for a coffee. As Hanna brought the coffee, I noticed she was wearing small earrings.

  ‘Nice earrings.’

  ‘Thanks. I had my ears pierced last week. My mum finally agreed.’

  ‘Do you like to have some tattoos as well?’

  ‘My mum would kill me,’ she smiled, ‘I am not sure... I sort of like it but then I don’t know how it would look on me, most girls in the school have done it though.’

  ‘Are they happy with their tattoos?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  I sat there with the coffee cup in my hand. I just wanted to sit there and do nothing, just look at the customers coming in, ordering their food, talking, arguing, complimenting each other, leaving, eagerly looking forward to their future hours, leaving sleepy, bored, hoping to get to bed, wishing they could sleep there and then. Was I in the right profession? I was asking myself this question again. I did enjoy my work, the research, the teaching, the travel, meeting people, so what was the problem? I suppose I am very intense. I must relax a bit more. Why should I always check my actions, the best line of action? Who is there to question me? Even if I had a family to go to, did I have to be so regimented? Can’t I be all these things? Hanna came over. ‘Do you need anything else?’

  ‘Thanks Hanna, you take good care of me. Could I have a large brandy please?’

  ‘So not another whisky?’

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘Of course.’

  I held the brandy glass between the palms of my hands, the cold glass was warming up. The bistro was now full. Mark was serving at the far corner. A couple were sitting at a table close to me. The man was complimenting the woman and she was laughing. What is so important in a compliment? Does it matter if it is a lie? You want to create a good atmosphere. The people around you enjoy your comments, so is there something wrong with it if it is a lie? I was, again, thinking about right and wrong. Perhaps I was becoming a lonely old nagging man. Perhaps none of these questions would
matter if I had someone to go to, a family to take care of rather than a single body ending up in a flat with just enough time to go to bed. I was finishing the brandy. I wondered why I asked for the brandy. I don’t even like it. But it was nice that night. Hanna came over with the bill.

  ‘Tell your mother I was asking about her.’

  ‘She knows it already. I told her. She is still in bed.’

  ‘I am sure she will be OK soon.’

  I came out and went for a walk. When I arrived at the flat, it was after midnight.

  41

  The large hall was completely packed. I wondered how it would feel after three hours with so many students breathing with anxiety in a hall with closed windows, late May. The sun was out; inside Michael was announcing the exam regulations. I was watching as students fidgeted in their seats waiting for the start. I wondered why the students subjected themselves to this. It was so nice outside. They could sit on the lawn, have a pleasant chat, read a book they liked, enjoy each other’s company. Instead they were in this hall answering questions that most of them couldn’t find any use for or any relevance to their lives. Michael mentioned plagiarism in his announcement. They must, by all means avoid doing it otherwise they could be expelled from the course. But what made them plagiarise, go through the trouble of preparing the material to use in the exam? Maybe they have a secret desire to beat the system and this was a way to enjoy a double success. This shows how uninterested they are in what they do. Maybe they lack the self confidence for it but, for whatever reason, they lack interest. Cheating has a clear message saying they want out, out of the situation. So perhaps we do them a favour by throwing them out. In an hour’s time they would have to put down their pens. ‘All remain seated until all manuscripts are accounted for!’ Now what did they think about? Now that they had passed a hurdle? Going out to the park? The sun was still out. But somehow I doubt if they were interested in the park.

  We walked back to the campus central office, large envelopes of exam papers in our hands. Michael was in a happy mood. I thought he liked this sort of thing: instructing the students, talking about rules and regulations, having a pint or two with ‘mates’, talking about old colleagues who died some years ago, with anecdotes about them.

  As we were walking he said, ‘all went well,’ as if something unpleasant should have happened.

  ‘Yes, but what could have gone wrong?’

  He laughed. He was more than happy to explain:

  ‘Many things. Somebody could have fainted. It happened two days ago. We had to call paramedics. There could be a fire drill! That is a real pain. What do you do? You know nothing is wrong but then you have to evacuate. Then it is case of whether they should go back to continue with the exam or not; what if there is plagiarism? You must write a report for the Subject Board. Do I need to say more? I prefer it the way it happened today. Nothing happened.’

  ‘Will you be going anywhere this summer?’ I asked him.

  ‘No. I have lots of work to do at home. I am doing up the old kitchen. Keeping the wife happy. What about you?’

  ‘I have an invitation to talk and haven’t thought about what I would do after that. Don’t mind getting away for a couple of weeks.’

  I looked at his shoes. They were brown, old but polished. I thought, each morning he spends some minutes shining his shoes. He had gained weight over the years I had known him. I suppose I had too. It is always easier to observe others. We walked without talking, passed through the park, green and colourful. I went to my lab when we returned to the campus.

  42

  ‘Does your mother feel better?’

  Hanna was talking with Mark outside the bistro.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Is she in?’

  ‘Yes.’ As she was going to show me where she was, Anita came out of the kitchen. She had lost some weight, and that in only a few days. I remembered a schoolgirl when I was at the school. Sometimes I saw her getting on the bus in the mornings. Each time I saw her, she looked different; sometimes podgy and other times she looked emaciated. The bus was always full. I used to lean against the window in a corner. She would come in with her books and notes wrapped in this leather belt. It was fashionable, but I could never have them. My mother thought they weren’t clean and tidy enough. I suppose I have inherited this obsession with tidiness, and only this I hope! But why did I remember her? Just a change in weight?

  Anita came out too. ‘Such a lovely day,’ she said.

  ‘It is always a good feeling when you recover from an illness,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but we haven’t had such good weather for some time. Days like this, I wonder why I ever thought of leaving this country.’

  ‘I suppose you want more of things like this.’

  ‘Yes, but so what? It is impossible.’

  ‘It must have been difficult for you to be ill now, with all the customers, and John gone.’

  ‘Not really. We can manage well, Hanna and I, and I have got this boy, you have met him, Mark.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why don’t you come in? Come in, have a coffee. This is on the house!’

  ‘Oh, thanks very much. I would like that.’

  We sat at a table by the window. Hanna came over, ‘what can I get you?’ looking at us playfully.

  ‘Coffee and cake,’ said Anita.

  ‘I am still not sure if I want to continue with this place.’

  ‘But what has happened? What has changed? OK, John has gone but you liked it here not because of John, didn’t you?’

  ‘I am not sure. Yes, I like the place but is that enough for me to stay? I think of Hanna. What would she do if we go back? It would be a big change, particularly for her. And now, there is Mark.’

  ‘Oh, yes. How did that happen?’

  ‘Well I needed someone to help here and he found me from my advert at the grocer’s. He is a nice boy.’

  ‘Nice enough to make Hanna unhappy if you decided to go back?’

  ‘Anything can make her unhappy!’

  We had the coffee together and the cake was fresh. I looked at Anita. The wrinkles under her eyes were deeper than before. Her skin looked tired and pale. She had put on some make-up that made her face oily. I patted her hands as they were sitting idle on the table. They were cold. ‘All will be OK. This is a period of adjusting.’

  ‘To what?’

  I thought perhaps I had put too much emphasis on John in my mind. It seemed as if Anita had moved on already. I stood up. ‘Better be going, too many things to do! Come over to my place sometime, whenever you like. Bring Hanna and Mark too; that is if you prefer. In any case, see you around.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ she smiled.

  ‘Thanks for the coffee; the cake was delicious.’

  There was a cold breeze. I turned into my street. I wasn’t sure what to do next.

  I walked past my flat and continued on. I hadn’t gone through that street before. The street got narrow towards the end and through a curve continued on. It was darker there, there were fewer street lights and I could see the lights coming out of the windows of terraced houses with the same shape and design. But it seemed that the developers were only interested in the houses at the start of the street where it joined the wider road. I continued on. It was a long street. I could hear the odd words through the low windows as I passed by, the TVs, the music from time to time, mainly from the first floor rooms. I could picture the interiors in my mind: sitting-rooms downstairs with a TV in them. The husband watching TV, the wife coming and going between the kitchen and the sitting-room where a table was placed at one end, wallpaper with large flowers, perhaps small flowers if the occupants were younger couples, narrow staircase leading to the first floor where a teenager was listening to music. Walls full of motorbike pictures, young celebrity pinups and odd things hanging from the ceiling. Smell of feet and other smells mixing with the smell of cooking. I suddenly felt I couldn’t continue. I stopped and turned back. I started going
back fast, nearly running to get to my flat. Once inside, I poured myself a large whisky and dropped onto the sofa. Was I becoming increasingly detached? I took the newspaper and flicked through the headlines. There was nothing that could attract me. The so-called political titles, editorials, banal arguments. Now the broadsheets covered crime reports on their cover page. They talk about disillusionment of people with politics; yet loads, millions go out to the funerals of celebrities. The whole structure is robust, working successfully. What are they afraid of? I put the newspaper aside. Why did I get it everyday? A habit! It is like buying milk. They go together; one is incomplete without the other. Did you add milk to your morning coffee? Did you glance through the newspaper while drinking your coffee?

  I had a sip of the whisky and stretched my legs. I thought of Anita. She was considering leaving her restaurant, something she has acquired by luck. Now she was not sure because of her daughter. Is it because of her daughter though? Hanna is growing fast, exciting times ahead with Mark around. I could imagine Anita having a dialogue with herself.

  ‘It was your fault, you employed him. Did you really need someone else?’

  ‘Of course I did. How could I run the damn place on my own with Hanna going to school?’

  ‘Was he the only one?

  ‘He was the right one.’

  ‘So, what’s your problem?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Perhaps her problem was not Hanna, was not going or staying. She was lonely, that’s all. But was she craving for one of those terraced homes I was passing by? She was a good cook! And what about the other aspects of married life? The emotions, the arguments about the curtains, the garden over-growing, the rubbish man not taking the cut branches. And what about the touch of skin after you had that argument? Now you were in bed. You paused. You waited for the other. Perhaps you took the initiative. You approached it logically. So what if he was a real pig, irresponsible. This was the bed and it was supposed to witness your bodies coming together, in harmony, for a few minutes, OK?’ She would turn around facing him. ‘How was your day darling?’ as if nothing had happened, as if there was no shouting half an hour ago. And fifteen minutes later, her eyes closed, she would think of her skirt when she was 18, the one that Piotr touched. It was an early evening and the whole group of them had gone out to this restaurant. Lying on the bed she would feel her body warming up. She would feel her skin and eventually she would go to sleep. Outside there would be the sound of the siren of a passing ambulance and then silence.