Over Coffee
In the autumn of 1995, my wife and I had our divorce.
Such a strange year that was, 1995. Five years before the turn of the millenium. Mobile phones, the size of a brick, are starting to resemble smaller bricks. Everybody still mourns over Kurt Cobain. As for me, I was on my way as a general manager at the Regency Hotel, and my wife is starting to gain some nods as a fiction writer.
Looking at that year, nobody ever really noticed that our marriage would suddenly come to an end. Up until now, I still get those quizical looks whenever that subject comes up in conversations. You see, I never told anybody the circumstances that has lead to that point. Of course, everybody has their own ideas on the real score on why we have a divorce.
People always say that we were a fantastic couple.
"You've been always a fantastic couple." Yup, those were their exact words.
In some ways, I think that we really are. I mean, we never fight over anything. My wife is opinionated, and most of her thoughts are quite impressive; whether its about buying apples in the market or deciding on our mortgage settlement. I can throw in some of my thoughts as well, but compared to her ideas, they dont hold much water. And so, whenever we talk about whatever, she usually has the last say on things, but that doesnt mean she decides on everything on her own. We talk, because she wants to hear what I think about whatever the subject we were discussing.
We have a lot of friends, so lack of social life is not the reason why we decided to get divorced. We have no problems about any form of substance abuse either. We have sex everytime we feel like it, which is almost everyday, so attention and intimacy is out of the question.
The reason why we had a divorce is because she was missing something. And she didnt find it in our marriage. And I realized it over a cup of coffee.
It was a tuesday, that I'm sure of. The wind blows the dead leaves outside of the parking lot, and the sun carelessly hides behind a thick, gray autumn cloud. It was a bit slow on that day, just a few expected check-ins, an occasional walk-in here and there. I was talking to this couple from Florida about our special rates, since their youngest son is getting married in 2 months, and they are interested in using our Lakefront Conference Hall as the reception. The father of the groom is a bit hard on the hearing, and so most of my comments are addressed to the wife who has the better hearing.
I was answering their question about our "limousine service", although we use a Ford E-series van for our guests, when one of my "guest relations officer" (front desk) knocks softly on the door to my side, opens it a little, and quietly slides a yellow Post-it note pad. Written on it: "Wife called, return ASAP". I took a glance at the note, smiled at the couple, and resumed our conversation.
After 15 minutes, we've finally concluded our meeting, with me handing our business card, shacking hands with the couple, and showing them to the front entrance. As soon as that is cleared, I made my way to my office, closed the doors, and dialed our home number.
"Hello?". I hear my wife's soft voice over the line.
"Hey babes, its me. Were you waiting long?"
"No its alright. Clarence told me that you're in a meeting."
I smiled a bit, "So whats the matter Fräulein? Is something wrong? Did Inu ran away again?"
"No, Inu is right here, sleeping as usual. Say, do you want to go for coffe later?"
I took a glance at the desk clock in front of me, right beside the picture of my wife taken in our Hamburg vacation three months ago. She looked absolutely giddy that time, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Sure, I'm getting off in a few hours. At the usual place then?"
"Okay, I'll see you later hon."
I waited for here to put the line down, but strangely, she didn't. So I asked her if there's anything else.
"No, its nothing, okay?"
Then she cuts off the line.
**********************************************************************
Village Perk is not crowded as I walked in. Just the way we liked it. The usual bar at the left wall, maintained lovingly by Harry, at the Greats of Jazz mural which decorates the entirety of the coffee shop; the small tables scattered on the room, and the mini living room complete with a barcalounger (reserved usually to the "customer of the week", based on a raffle which Harry picks up from the small jar filled with varying business cards). What separates this coffee shop from the Starbuck's and Seattle's is that smoking is allowed inside the room, although as a show of respect to the non-nicotine coffee lovers, Harry installed some exhaust fans. I guess it just proves that coffee and cigarettes do go along.
I take our usual seat by the wall, John Coultraine looking at me by the side. Coincidentally, its Coultraine also who'se playing by the speakers. Im not a big jazz fan; my wife is. I just listen to whatever she plays in our home. I fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds from my jacket pocket, lighted it up, and took in a nice drag. Harry flashed me a nod, and I wave at him, mouthing off, "the usual". He nods again, and he gets to work, making my cappucino, with a tinge of hazelnut.
I was taking my third drag, when I saw her walk in the room.
For a few tense moments, I was dazed in a timeless expanse. Its kind of like the feeling each and everyone of us gets whenever we first open our eyes when we wake up in the morning. Comprehension, definitions, all are at a lost. Our brain still tries to decide whether it is a dream, or is it reality. Hazy surroundings still leeched in our eyes.. then it becomes clearer one moment at a time. Then we realize, "Yeah this is real, I'm awake. Whatever happened yesterday is over, time to shake the groggy head, face the new day. And try to do it with a smile, because this is going to be new."
Yeah, she always has that effect whenever she walks in a room. Even wearing something as simple as a blue sweater, leather jacket and black pants, with her hair on a pony tail, she emanates something hazy yet refreshing at the same time. Its not the clothes I'm sure of it, although here ensemble is elegant and sure without being fancy.
She sees me from the room, and she makes her way towards me. I stand up to greet her, but before I manage to utter something, she grabs my left hand, breathes something in my ears and gives me a light kiss on the cheek.
When she finally slides on the chair, I asked her what she just said. I saw a look of shock, but it was immediately recovered with her confidence. She flashed me a smile, and she shook her heard, saying..
"Its nothing."
The silence between us is broken by Harry, a steaming cup of cappucino in hand. Setting it on the table, he looked at my wife, and asked her what she wants.
"I'll have the usual Harry, thanks.", answering him while snatching a stick of Marlboro from my pack on our table. Seeing her, I took my lighter, and lighted her cigarette. The play of light on her face remains stuck on my mind that whole day.
"So how was your day?" I asked her.
"It was alright I guess.."
"What do you mean? Is there something wrong?"
She raised her eyes on me, the smoke from the Marlboro floating hazily in the air. She opened her mouth, about to say something, but she changed her mind; instead she raised her hand, breathing in some tobacco.
"Lately", I told her, "you've been kind of restless. Don't tell otherwise; I know you too well. " By then, she dashed her unfinished cigarette in the ashtray, all the while staring across the room, beyond my shoulder.
I reached out, and touched her hand, "You can tell me anything."
She looked at me, then she say "Have you ever felt that you don't know anything at all?"
I looked at her, puzzled at the sudden question. But I know what she's talking about, so I listened intently, taking a sip from my cappucino.
"You know how I told you that my life is very much set. In my mind, even when I was still in college, I KNEW that this is what I'm going to do in my life: to become a writer. I worked hard, finished my degree, and somehow I made it here."
"But, now it all feels so.. strange. I look around, and I wonder to myself, 'What's going on around here?'. I try to go back to my routine, my structure, but I cant. It's like a door was shut in my face, and it is locked from the other side. No matter how hard I try to knock, I can't, and nobody, opened it. Maybe its because of the changes around of me, I dont know. I can't even write my book now." She let a sigh out, and she stared beyond again.
"Lets try to see whats wrong okay? I'm not really smart, but I want to help you."
She smiles at me and nods her head. A sad smile, yet with confidence in them.
"When did it start? I mean, these feelings, when?"
**********************************************************************
The next day, after that evening coffee, I told her that we should get a divorce. When I told her that, she slumped her shoulders, as if loosing her strength to keep them up. But at the same time, I saw a faint, very faint tingle, a small play of light in her brown, moist cornea, like gladiators flashing their swords in the arena.
With that I was sure that that's what she wanted after all. Well, I'm not very smart, but when it comes to the topic of my wife, I know enough.
She called me a few days ago, telling me that she finally managed to finish the first draft of her novel.
"That's good. Finally managed to get it out huh?"
"Yeah. It's a bomb in my chest waiting to explode."
"I'm happy for you."
"Really? How come you don't sound it?"
"You have to give me some time, you know? I'm not a kid who'se pet dog suddenly died. Even then, we're not even sure if such an event would scar a kid for life, right?"
"... yeah I guess you're right. Listen, I'm.."
I looked outside the window of my apartment, seeing the children playing at the playground from across the street. I wonder if they sweat, with this cold, autumn weather.
"No, don't say anything. Its better to not know sometimes."
With that I put the phone down. Sitting on our chair at the dinning table, I resumed eating my dinner: yesterday's pizza, straight from the microwave. I looked at my hands, on the way it is illuminated by the yellow light on top of the dinning area. I moved my hand on top of my ashtray, smoke from the ebbing ashes of my cigarettes floating between the spaces of my fingers, floating hazily as one, then as five, until its invincible to my eye.
**********************************************************************
N.B. in case you haven't noticed, this is a fictional work. so enjoy.
Such a strange year that was, 1995. Five years before the turn of the millenium. Mobile phones, the size of a brick, are starting to resemble smaller bricks. Everybody still mourns over Kurt Cobain. As for me, I was on my way as a general manager at the Regency Hotel, and my wife is starting to gain some nods as a fiction writer.
Looking at that year, nobody ever really noticed that our marriage would suddenly come to an end. Up until now, I still get those quizical looks whenever that subject comes up in conversations. You see, I never told anybody the circumstances that has lead to that point. Of course, everybody has their own ideas on the real score on why we have a divorce.
People always say that we were a fantastic couple.
"You've been always a fantastic couple." Yup, those were their exact words.
In some ways, I think that we really are. I mean, we never fight over anything. My wife is opinionated, and most of her thoughts are quite impressive; whether its about buying apples in the market or deciding on our mortgage settlement. I can throw in some of my thoughts as well, but compared to her ideas, they dont hold much water. And so, whenever we talk about whatever, she usually has the last say on things, but that doesnt mean she decides on everything on her own. We talk, because she wants to hear what I think about whatever the subject we were discussing.
We have a lot of friends, so lack of social life is not the reason why we decided to get divorced. We have no problems about any form of substance abuse either. We have sex everytime we feel like it, which is almost everyday, so attention and intimacy is out of the question.
The reason why we had a divorce is because she was missing something. And she didnt find it in our marriage. And I realized it over a cup of coffee.
It was a tuesday, that I'm sure of. The wind blows the dead leaves outside of the parking lot, and the sun carelessly hides behind a thick, gray autumn cloud. It was a bit slow on that day, just a few expected check-ins, an occasional walk-in here and there. I was talking to this couple from Florida about our special rates, since their youngest son is getting married in 2 months, and they are interested in using our Lakefront Conference Hall as the reception. The father of the groom is a bit hard on the hearing, and so most of my comments are addressed to the wife who has the better hearing.
I was answering their question about our "limousine service", although we use a Ford E-series van for our guests, when one of my "guest relations officer" (front desk) knocks softly on the door to my side, opens it a little, and quietly slides a yellow Post-it note pad. Written on it: "Wife called, return ASAP". I took a glance at the note, smiled at the couple, and resumed our conversation.
After 15 minutes, we've finally concluded our meeting, with me handing our business card, shacking hands with the couple, and showing them to the front entrance. As soon as that is cleared, I made my way to my office, closed the doors, and dialed our home number.
"Hello?". I hear my wife's soft voice over the line.
"Hey babes, its me. Were you waiting long?"
"No its alright. Clarence told me that you're in a meeting."
I smiled a bit, "So whats the matter Fräulein? Is something wrong? Did Inu ran away again?"
"No, Inu is right here, sleeping as usual. Say, do you want to go for coffe later?"
I took a glance at the desk clock in front of me, right beside the picture of my wife taken in our Hamburg vacation three months ago. She looked absolutely giddy that time, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Sure, I'm getting off in a few hours. At the usual place then?"
"Okay, I'll see you later hon."
I waited for here to put the line down, but strangely, she didn't. So I asked her if there's anything else.
"No, its nothing, okay?"
Then she cuts off the line.
**********************************************************************
Village Perk is not crowded as I walked in. Just the way we liked it. The usual bar at the left wall, maintained lovingly by Harry, at the Greats of Jazz mural which decorates the entirety of the coffee shop; the small tables scattered on the room, and the mini living room complete with a barcalounger (reserved usually to the "customer of the week", based on a raffle which Harry picks up from the small jar filled with varying business cards). What separates this coffee shop from the Starbuck's and Seattle's is that smoking is allowed inside the room, although as a show of respect to the non-nicotine coffee lovers, Harry installed some exhaust fans. I guess it just proves that coffee and cigarettes do go along.
I take our usual seat by the wall, John Coultraine looking at me by the side. Coincidentally, its Coultraine also who'se playing by the speakers. Im not a big jazz fan; my wife is. I just listen to whatever she plays in our home. I fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds from my jacket pocket, lighted it up, and took in a nice drag. Harry flashed me a nod, and I wave at him, mouthing off, "the usual". He nods again, and he gets to work, making my cappucino, with a tinge of hazelnut.
I was taking my third drag, when I saw her walk in the room.
For a few tense moments, I was dazed in a timeless expanse. Its kind of like the feeling each and everyone of us gets whenever we first open our eyes when we wake up in the morning. Comprehension, definitions, all are at a lost. Our brain still tries to decide whether it is a dream, or is it reality. Hazy surroundings still leeched in our eyes.. then it becomes clearer one moment at a time. Then we realize, "Yeah this is real, I'm awake. Whatever happened yesterday is over, time to shake the groggy head, face the new day. And try to do it with a smile, because this is going to be new."
Yeah, she always has that effect whenever she walks in a room. Even wearing something as simple as a blue sweater, leather jacket and black pants, with her hair on a pony tail, she emanates something hazy yet refreshing at the same time. Its not the clothes I'm sure of it, although here ensemble is elegant and sure without being fancy.
She sees me from the room, and she makes her way towards me. I stand up to greet her, but before I manage to utter something, she grabs my left hand, breathes something in my ears and gives me a light kiss on the cheek.
When she finally slides on the chair, I asked her what she just said. I saw a look of shock, but it was immediately recovered with her confidence. She flashed me a smile, and she shook her heard, saying..
"Its nothing."
The silence between us is broken by Harry, a steaming cup of cappucino in hand. Setting it on the table, he looked at my wife, and asked her what she wants.
"I'll have the usual Harry, thanks.", answering him while snatching a stick of Marlboro from my pack on our table. Seeing her, I took my lighter, and lighted her cigarette. The play of light on her face remains stuck on my mind that whole day.
"So how was your day?" I asked her.
"It was alright I guess.."
"What do you mean? Is there something wrong?"
She raised her eyes on me, the smoke from the Marlboro floating hazily in the air. She opened her mouth, about to say something, but she changed her mind; instead she raised her hand, breathing in some tobacco.
"Lately", I told her, "you've been kind of restless. Don't tell otherwise; I know you too well. " By then, she dashed her unfinished cigarette in the ashtray, all the while staring across the room, beyond my shoulder.
I reached out, and touched her hand, "You can tell me anything."
She looked at me, then she say "Have you ever felt that you don't know anything at all?"
I looked at her, puzzled at the sudden question. But I know what she's talking about, so I listened intently, taking a sip from my cappucino.
"You know how I told you that my life is very much set. In my mind, even when I was still in college, I KNEW that this is what I'm going to do in my life: to become a writer. I worked hard, finished my degree, and somehow I made it here."
"But, now it all feels so.. strange. I look around, and I wonder to myself, 'What's going on around here?'. I try to go back to my routine, my structure, but I cant. It's like a door was shut in my face, and it is locked from the other side. No matter how hard I try to knock, I can't, and nobody, opened it. Maybe its because of the changes around of me, I dont know. I can't even write my book now." She let a sigh out, and she stared beyond again.
"Lets try to see whats wrong okay? I'm not really smart, but I want to help you."
She smiles at me and nods her head. A sad smile, yet with confidence in them.
"When did it start? I mean, these feelings, when?"
**********************************************************************
The next day, after that evening coffee, I told her that we should get a divorce. When I told her that, she slumped her shoulders, as if loosing her strength to keep them up. But at the same time, I saw a faint, very faint tingle, a small play of light in her brown, moist cornea, like gladiators flashing their swords in the arena.
With that I was sure that that's what she wanted after all. Well, I'm not very smart, but when it comes to the topic of my wife, I know enough.
She called me a few days ago, telling me that she finally managed to finish the first draft of her novel.
"That's good. Finally managed to get it out huh?"
"Yeah. It's a bomb in my chest waiting to explode."
"I'm happy for you."
"Really? How come you don't sound it?"
"You have to give me some time, you know? I'm not a kid who'se pet dog suddenly died. Even then, we're not even sure if such an event would scar a kid for life, right?"
"... yeah I guess you're right. Listen, I'm.."
I looked outside the window of my apartment, seeing the children playing at the playground from across the street. I wonder if they sweat, with this cold, autumn weather.
"No, don't say anything. Its better to not know sometimes."
With that I put the phone down. Sitting on our chair at the dinning table, I resumed eating my dinner: yesterday's pizza, straight from the microwave. I looked at my hands, on the way it is illuminated by the yellow light on top of the dinning area. I moved my hand on top of my ashtray, smoke from the ebbing ashes of my cigarettes floating between the spaces of my fingers, floating hazily as one, then as five, until its invincible to my eye.
**********************************************************************
N.B. in case you haven't noticed, this is a fictional work. so enjoy.
posted by Gendo Ikari at 5:15 PM
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