4.30 pm rainy afternoon sometime in May...
Mother Nature was playing one of her weird tricks again this week by showering the city with drizzles and sometime heavy rain in the middle of May. Although it was nothing to complaint about from my part as I always welcomed a dreamy rainy day anytime of the year, I realized that global warming was not just a theory anymore.
I finally got out of the car after a heavy negotiation with a narrow parking space across a cafe where my next appointment was waiting for me. Putting up a hood of my windbreaker to shelter my shoulder length hair from the drizzles I waited patiently to cross the two-ways street. Standing next to the parking guy I felt glad that I put on my slip – on ankle high waterproof suede shoes today. I watched raindrops just slipped off the leather surface before it had time to put any moisture on the shoes. The suede leather is putting up a better fight with the rain water than me trying to seek an opening to cross the street from the fast passing by of sleek, latest model cars with merciless drivers who did not feel the need to slow down and let a pedestrian in the rain the chance to cross the street.
“Dumb ass city snobs of a dumb ass city who made any person on foot felt like a freaking low class caste” I cursed within.
This sudden shame of being a lame pedestrian in the rain and the ego to both expressing my rights of a public street as well as to compete with my slip – on shoes, I shamelessly decided to cross the street on the expense of a blaring car horn coming from an army green Range Rover from my right. Between the car wipers I saw a middle age lady driver in dark Jackie O glasses. I complimented on her blaring car horn with a nice “fuck you” smile and added a finger gesture to support my thoughts of her.
“she must has a really blinding bright future ahead of her to wear dark glasses in a weather like this” I wondered as I got to the other side of the street and opened the café’s door. Another blaring horn was heard, most likely Jackie O was thanking me for the finger gesture.
“Another sound coming from that Jackie O wannabe bitch is really going to kill any dreamy mood left in me from this nice rainy afternoon” the fears of a ruined rainy day feeling began to creep in as I walked in but luckily those fears were deleted by the sweet smile of a female attendant who greeted me. Briefly forgotten about the Jackie O character I smiled back and signaled with my hand for a table for two. With unforced politeness she gave a genuine sweet smile again and told me to just choose any table in the room. I thanked her and picked a table by the wall which divided the room in half as I saw a corner table by the window was already taken.
“…why can’t at least rainy day turned people to be sweet like her” my mind went back to the crossing street episode which I thought was already forgotten. Coffee aroma filled the place that has a rather wide range offering of coffee on its menu. I knew that I was going to be early for this appointment and welcomed the thought of spending some time alone with myself and a shot of espresso. Ordering just that with another attendant who had a rose tattoo on her shoulder I then sat back and looked at my table top. It was standard table setting for any neighborhood bistro with salt and pepper container, napkin holder and an ashtray. Quickly they got to meet their new companion of my cigarette and lighter. Waiting for my order I played around with the clean white ceramic ashtray, moving it in circling motion with my hand. I could hear the sound of rain got louder outside and wished that someone would opened a window to let the smell of rain breezed into the room. That thought made me looked at the occupant of the corner table by the window just a few tables away from mine. My view of her was blocked by an attendant who I thought must be taking another order from her as she possessed an air of having been sitting there awhile and waiting for someone to come.
As dreamy thoughts on the occupant of that window table were forming I felt my mobile phone vibrate. The espresso came at the same time. I removed the clean ashtray in front of me by pushing it aside and let the tattooed attendant put the small cup in the same small space.
“….traffic is a mesh because of the rain, will be about 20 minutes late” the short message told me about the delay.
“...ok, no probs” I replied thankful for the extra solitude moment with myself.
It wasn’t an urgent meeting anyway other than to cross check a few details that can be done over email. Sipping my espresso my gaze went back to that window table. There were already two glasses on her table and one of them seemed to be filled with soda water. The cafe attendant walked away from her table as I saw her shaking her head signaling that she was fine with what she has ordered so far. She then sipped with a straw from one glass; the other seemed to be empty and untouched. Her empty table top other than those two glasses gave me a sense that corner table was choked with a mix of deep emotions of hope and solitude. The whole scene reminded me of my still clean ashtray resting in solitaire on top of a table waiting until the arrival of burned cigarettes that will fulfill its purpose for existence.
She also had the same white ceramic ashtray but the white surface was covered by ashes and filled with burned butts which confirmed my guessed that she has been sitting there for awhile. Having only separated by a short distance my usual quirkiness then tried to count how many of those cigarettes had been burned.
“..Eight burned ciggies and soon to be nine with one she’s still smoking now” I concluded as I lighted my own cigarette and deeply inhaled before putting it on my own ashtray. Immediately I could see tiny particle of dust dropped into the white surface breaking the previous pure innocence white image. Another vibration came from my mobile next to the ashtray.
“….totally stuck bro. you still want to wait or what?” message from the same friend again.
“…It’s your call. I can still be here for awhile” I replied.
“…Ok, I’ll let you know how far I can move in the next ten minutes. Damn this city when it rains!!!” replied my friend immediately. I could felt the frustration already build up to rage in that message.
I saw her sipping her drink again slowly and shortly as if not wanting to empty the glass too soon while completely ignoring the other empty glass. She took another drag and inhaled deeply. I looked at my owned ashtray and could see the dirty dusts started to spread evenly on the surface. The purity of its whiteness is no longer there and further distorted by a black coal like mark as I stub the remains of my cigarettes to put it off. It was not a pretty sight anymore and it was only from my first smoke.
From the gaze on her face I expected her mind could have been miles from that table. Even with the rain and traffic, eight burned cigarettes was a really long pause until that other empty glass could serve its purpose. In the meantime, her white ceramic ashtray is busy filling up the long pause and produce a mountain of ashes from her burned cigarettes which completely broken its white innocence.
“It was her call….” I thought as watched her put out her ninth cigarette on the ashtray. Somehow I could associate with her decision to go through the waiting and maybe even the mellowness that came with it. I admired the hopeful gesture of ordering the other empty glass. She was probably crafting her art for her own happiness with the empty glass, trying to vaporize all the pain before she could appreciate the pleasure of her existence.
“A controlled sadness…” I thought again as I sipped half warm espresso by now. I wish someone could tell her how cool she looks at that corner table with that display of controlled sadness. It was her corner of solitude with her two glasses and a full dirty ashtray. As I lit my second smoke I found a new appreciation of her dirty ashtray as I knew now that it was the embodiment of sadness that can only came from a beautiful heart and mind.
I felt my table vibrating again and saw the light on my mobile phone was on.
“It’s hopeless dude. Let’s meet up tomorrow...” I quickly replied the message telling my friend to not worry about it.
I decided it was time to go also. I watch her there sipping her soda slowly and heard The Smith's “I won’t share you” filled the room.
I wont share you, no
I wont share you
With the drive
And the dreams inside
This is my time
It was her time and I knew that once the pain vaporized, the empty glass will be filled or shared, either with someone or it was going to be filled with her own happiness. With that thought in mind I paid the bill and walking past by her table wished silently that her art of happiness will be a canvas painted with sweet ashes and a refreshing cold glass of Perrier next to it.
As I stepped outside and waited again in the rain to cross the street my dreamy mood returned to another truth of being a person belonging to the lowest class of social order. That and the reflection of what will the traffic be going back home made me cursed these other Jackie O version drivers who won’t let me cross the stress as well as the city officials who not only can’t manage the daily city traffic but also the floods that came every time the city got a little rain.
“All those people can kiss my sweet ass...” I cursed as I finally crossed the street in the rain.
The story is inspired from "Satu Gelas Kosong dan Satu Gelas Soda" by mariamantic
