Between Cups of Coffee

by Tajalli Keshavarz

  I woke up and didn’t know what time it was. It was dark and raindrops were hitting hard at the window. I looked at my watch, it was after 2 in the morning. I listened to the rain. I remembered that I liked the rain in my childhood. I liked to walk under it, splash in the puddles, run on the edge of pavements parallel to the cars passing so that I would be splashed. I made sure they splashed me!

  I listened to the rain for a while. I opened my eyes. I could see the drops under the street light that shone on the window. I remembered my earlier thoughts. Anita would be asleep now in the room above the bistro. My mind wouldn’t go further. I turned in the bed. I couldn’t go to sleep. I always slept well. You go to bed, you sleep! It was a matter of seconds not minutes for me to go to sleep. And if, for some reason, I couldn’t sleep, it would be a catastrophe. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What were you thinking about?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing serious. It was raining; I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.’

  ‘But surely you had something on your mind. Otherwise why not go to sleep?’

  ‘No. I just woke up and couldn’t sleep after that.’

  Then the thoughts came. How many friends did I have? None! And what about family?

  ‘What? Family? Yes there are odd relatives here and there. I don’t see them really.’

  ‘Don’t you want to have a family?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Me? I am OK the way I am thank you very much.’

  ‘So what do you do when you get old and frail?’

  ‘I die!’

  ‘Yes, but before that?’

  ‘So you are telling me that I should have a family, change my desirable life-style now because sometime in the future I might need someone to take care of me? Is this a reason for having a family? And anyway, since when should one lose the happiness of the moment for the ambiguous security of the future?’

  ‘But we all do that.’

  ‘Not me!’

  ‘So perhaps that’s why you can’t go to sleep!’

  ‘And what about all those with their families snoring away? Are they all in a deep sleep now?’

  Then I thought about couples sleeping next to each other. One curled away, one clinging to the other; some facing away, some breathing into each other’s face. I thought of all those tiny microbes getting exchanged, pushed from one into the other. One sleeping under the background snoring noise of the other. Waking up as the partner is going to relieve himself. One getting up earlier than the other in the morning going to work.

  ‘Bye.’

  ‘Bye.’

  Why don’t they have their own bed? Have the space, the fresh air, the freedom?

  ‘You can’t understand love!’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Just all those things to share!’

  ‘Yes! I am in love with all the commuters in the morning then! I share the same bus with them. Sometimes I breathe their breath directly as we are pushing against each other, standing tight so as not to fall on the other with the sharp brakes.’

  I listened again. The rain was subsiding. I had a feeling of weakness. Then I went to sleep.

  43

  The sun is shining through the window into my office. The exams are finished, the Boards are held, the results are announced. The corridor is silent. I am sitting in the middle of piles of useless paper trying to get rid of them. Each year I decide to organise my room. Each year I throw away less than a quarter of what I should throw away. Each year I am left with more rubbish. Piles of filed marked exam scripts are sitting in the corner waiting for me to return them to the central office; exam paper documents have filled my top drawer. Double copies of projects are waiting for their owners to come and collect them but no student has ever come. I think about writing my talk but I cannot work in this chaos. I look at the boxes of papers sitting next to each other on the shelves for years. I need the courage to throw them out. Did I say courage? Why courage? I haven’t referred to most of them for years. I don’t even know what is inside most of them. Yet, I cannot throw them away. I have to look at them one by one to decide. And looking into a box, it takes time.

  ‘Oh, I need that paper. I am going to read the other one, this is really important and I have to keep it, what about this one? I had forgotten about it but it is so useful. I should remember to keep it somewhere not to forget!’

  So the box goes back to where it was. And it is funny that I am famous for having the tidiest office. Yes, I have all the good intentions to get rid of stuff but I end up keeping them. Is the same true about friends? I mean people I know? Why is it that I cannot say no to some of these people around me?

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  Richard came in. He looked happy.

  ‘So, you are now prepared for society!’ I said.

  ‘I have been ready for this for a long time.’

  ‘So what is your plan?’

  ‘I have a job waiting for me already.’

  ‘Oh, that’s great. So you’ve been writing lots of job applications.’

  ‘Not really. It was a good interview for my first application.’

  ‘Congratulations. You are a lucky man.’

  ‘I don’t know. I wanted more money but they said it will come in six months.’

  ‘That is not bad at all; given the situation in the job market at the moment.’

  ‘Well perhaps. I just came to say thank you and goodbye!’

  ‘I didn’t do anything. I wish you well.’

  ‘And as for the calculator.’

  ‘Oh, forget about it. I have forgotten already.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He left with a grin on his face. I wasn’t sure why he came. I wasn’t interested in him and he knew it. Perhaps he came to show me what a successful person he was. It was a sign of I won, you lost! I thought of many better students who don’t have a job but he had got it with his first attempt. I wondered if his family had pulled some strings for him. Perhaps, but he came across so confident that anyone could easily get fooled by his disposition. I suppose once they find how useless he is, they will get rid of him. But by that time it might be too late to admit their bad judgement. And how does this help society? We create these cases. Each student is a case. I suppose he will be a bully, an arrogant businessman with a pin-striped suit and a house in the country. A commuter who reads his newspaper on the way to work every day to look more informed when he arrives at his office. I suppose he will be one of those young employees who are greeted by the smiling, inviting faces of their female colleagues. He would sleep with most of the hopefuls and go up the ladder and then, nobody would be able to approach him; he would be an isolated man with great influence! Yes, he is the student who went from one office to another to improve his marks through complaints and appeals. He did everything but studying for a better mark. Now, he is ready to start in a job in this posh block in a green square. He would promise things to everyone and part deliver those which he thought would be useful for his future. He would look into your eyes and confidently say, ‘trust me, it will go through, it will be OK.’ But can you trust a man who is prepared to do anything to get what he wants? Perhaps yes. He shows how committed he is to his own success.

  44

  ‘I’ve had enough.’ Ian was sitting at his usual table in the pub. He was rolling his large beer glass between his hands.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing in particular; I think it is about time to leave this dump.’

  ‘Something has happened, surely.’

  ‘You’ll be surprised to know that nothing new has happened. Do you expect anything new to happen in this place? There are lots of forms for you to fill in. That’s all. Even now that I am leaving.’

  ‘What? You are leaving?’

  ‘I told you I’ve had enough.’

  ‘Why the sudden decision?’

  ‘Th
ey’ve offered me one of those offers you can’t refuse! This is the honourable way to bow out. Everyone thinks you have been so valued, even you yourself get convinced. In reality, a couple of hundred here and there to motivate your moving out. Basically, this is a scheme for those who want to leave but need a positive jolt. I just drank to the jolt! Handed in my letter and had my drink!’

  ‘Oh, well. There is only so much that one can do now.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘The same would do, the usual, thanks.’

  I got the drinks. As I came back, he was searching his pocket.

  ‘Had an address, I think I’ve lost it... It was for this stamp shop, one of those traditional shops with old style service.’

  ‘There you are, you have already started your next assignment.’

  ‘Yes. The wife would love to hear this!’

  ‘You haven’t told her you’re about to leave the job?’

  ‘Not really. She should have guessed. She will know tonight alright. She doesn’t need to know. Anyway, we will have more time together. That’s what she wanted, so no reason to be dissatisfied.’

  I finished my drink. As I was coming out, he was still sitting at his table with another full glass. I thought, it will be a long night for him. I wasn’t sure if there would be a goodbye ‘do’ for him. It was summer and most people had gone away.

  The flat was warm. The sun had shone all day while I was away at work. I opened the kitchen window, there was a nice breeze. I poured a whisky, sat on the sofa and opened the book I had taken from Kate’s flat,The life and times of an Andes flower . It was as good as new but I knew she had read it, meticulously, and perhaps had taken notes too. I just turned the pages without knowing why. I didn’t have the slightest interest in that topic. I actually wasn’t sure what it was all about; and yet, I was flicking through without reading it. Then, there was a thin piece of paper towards the last pages. It was her handwriting. I had a sip and took out the paper. The thin paper sat in my hand. I could see the lines of my hand through it. It was somehow difficult for me to start reading it but I did:

  ‘I am in the library. I have just come back from the coffee shop. I had the most exciting moment with David. He speaks with such passion about everything. It doesn’t matter what, it is bliss. I am fortunate to have these moments. It is so good to have the library silent at this moment. It is as if everything has gone silent for me, to let me feel my moments with him. I know I am going, I know that all the tests and appointments and repeat tests will end up in disappointment. This is something I do not want to share with him. I want to see him as energetic as he is. I want to keep this memory for myself. It is not that I am afraid of his response. I think that is irrelevant. I think my illness is irrelevant to our relationship. So, I will have no contact with him after a certain point. I just hope to linger the moments, the dialogues. I don’t care what happens later, the bed, the smell of the hospital, the bored nurses, the enthusiastic ones, the humanitarian ones. The flower by the window, the plastic white curtain between the beds, the tube-light, the subdued noises. Those will take their own time and I shall deal with them when they come. Those are specifically made for me and no-one else, not even for David. The days are even more unpredictable now but the moments are dearer. And for now, the silence is going, I see students coming in so I’d better go with the flow. There are books to be stamped. I shall ask David if he thinks we are stamped?’

  I put the paper carefully back in the book and returned the book to the bedside table. I walked around the flat, went to the kitchen, to the sitting-room and back to the kitchen. Then took my jacket and went out. I rushed into the bistro. It was busy and both Anita and Hanna were serving customers. Mark came over.

  ‘How are you?’ he said. He had a grin on his face.

  ‘Fine. Could I have a whisky please and a soup a bit later?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I wanted him to go. I don’t know why I couldn’t stand him at that moment. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I expected Anita to serve me, to have a chat, to get involved with her daily mental chores. But now I had to do with Mark. He came with the whisky.

  ‘So are you happy working here?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, it gives me the money for my studies.’

  I suddenly felt that I could not create a dialogue with him.

  ‘Good,’ and I started with my drink. He left.

  I looked around. Anita was talking and laughing with a customer. Hanna was taking the used plates back to the kitchen. I thought how well she had learnt to serve. Mark came out of the kitchen and passed her by. I thought that there was no reason why I should dislike this boy. But I did. I think it is true that our feelings are shaped by faces. I couldn’t put it into words but there was something in his face and posture that I didn’t like. But then, so what? It was no business of mine. Perhaps it was because after John, I now considered myself as the man in their life! Strange! I wasn’t involved with them but it was an interesting feeling. Perhaps in a strange way I felt responsible for Hanna’s future and I didn’t like Mark playing a central role in it. He came with the soup. He was very friendly. He put the soup and the bread on the table. He had even heated the bread. But I immediately thought it was Anita who told him to do it. I did feel guilty for my thoughts about him though. A warm piece of bread, a newly acquired guilt!

  45

  It was an early flight but I looked forward to it. I arrived much earlier too. Somehow everything happened smoothly; there was no queue for the check-in, there was no waiting for the security check and there was no customer at the exchange desk. So I found myself sitting at the tall table in the coffee shop with a coffee in my hand and a pastry on the table. I was still sleepy but I liked the feeling, coming out of sleep gradually just to go to sleep again on the plane. I finished my coffee and started to walk idly in the hall. Most of the shops were closed. I stood outside the pen shop. A young girl with unkempt hair was opening the shop. First the metal security door was opened, then the door after that. I wondered, who needs so much security for a shop in the airport? Who would rob the shop in the airport? She went in and I started looking at the pens in the window. She put her bag by the counter. Took a mirror and started with the lipstick, then combed her hair as if she was in the bathroom. I went in. She looked at me and said ‘Could I help you sir?’

  ‘No, just looking at the moment, thank you.’

  ‘Just let me know if you are interested in anything.’

  I thought, if Fiona had said that, we would have a great time conversing around it. That made me feel good. I was going to see her at the conference. Five days of talks and dinners and being idly busy! I needed a break. The girl’s mobile rang.

  ‘Hiya.’

  I hated that word. I do not know why but I still do. I shiver whenever someone says it. There are certain words that I feel so much hatred for. It is strange. You can hate someone, hate being in a particular situation, you can hate the weather. But a word? I suppose it’s the way people use the words, particularly the young. One of words is ‘like.’ You can hear them saying it all the time, ‘I told him like...’ The girl was talking loudly. ‘Why not? It will be fun, it’s just a lunch… OK, whatever...’ Yet another one of those words. The call was surprisingly short I thought. She came over. ‘Do you want to see our latest designs? They are kept here.’

  ‘Yes actually, I don’t mind.’

  There were four famous brands. Then, suddenly I remembered that I wanted to buy Kate a pen and I never did. I had seen the pen I wanted, I had thought she would like it but I never got down to buying it. I felt the colour of the airport lights, and the noise of the people was increasing. A group of Japanese tourists came in. I left the shop. I walked toward the gate. It was still early but I walked to the gate which was unusually announced early. In the waiting lounge, there was only one other man sitting and working on his computer. I sat in a corner and took a pocket book out. I was a tourist!

 
; 46

  I went to the conference registration desk in the afternoon. It was the Sunday before the opening of the conference and some of the participants were already registering. I got the big blue plastic conference bag with the logo and name of the conference in white. Two thick volumes of proceedings, bits and pieces of loose advertising material and my name tag were put in the bag which was already losing its shape under the weight. There was the smell of new plastic in the hall. I sat at a long bench looking at the list of participants when I saw Fiona approaching. She had a pink shirt on with a large light brown handbag. ‘Looking tanned already! Do you come here every year?’ she said jokingly.

  ‘Only if I have people complimenting me like this! How was your flight?’

  ‘OK. Just arrived, left the bag in the hotel and came over; hoped to see you here.’

  ‘Keep on talking, I like what you say.’

  ‘That’s enough for today’s dosage! Now I must register.’

  ‘Get your act together. Drinks are warming up!’

  We walked by the sea. The promenade was calm in the mid-afternoon. Across the road, the coffee shops and cafés were open but it was too early for the evening customers and the lunch customers had already gone.

  ‘It is good to be here, eventually,’ she said, ‘I was getting a bit rotten in my good old town.’

  ‘Have you considered changing to another university, another city altogether?’