TEA AND COOKIES

In a play of words, she holds me back.

‘’Memory is tricky, we remember how it felt,

Not necessarily how it was.’’ The raindrops trickle down slowly as we sit by the window, sipping on our tea. It had been a month since A had come back from her holiday. She had never been one to travel alone, but this time, she felt she needed to. I had been too busy to meet her until today, so I was getting an introspective summary of her holiday.

‘’Did you travel to Italy or for a Vipasana Retreat? Why do you complicate everything?’’, I ask playfully and laugh as I try to cheer her up. ‘’And where is H? He‘a always late. Please keep your philosophy banter for after he comes? With everything going on with me right now, I might not be the best person to tickle your existential crisis.’’ I say.

‘’I don’t mean to get all philosophical. It’s just that…’’ A trails off as she turns to look outside the window. It’s a quiet and gray day. The rain is light but constant. The city seems to be weeping softly, in solidarity with her quiet pain. A had been aimlessly wandering in her mind the last few years, ‘’seeking something…I don’t know what’’, she would say.

I understood, I had been there myself once. But A had a habit of going deeper into herself in a way that made me uncomfortable at times.

I watch as her eyes well up and the tears begin to slowly roll down her cheeks.

‘’Ok fine. No Jokes. Let’s talk.’’, I say, giving in finally. ‘’Firstly, how it felt is as much a part of memory as how it really was. You cannot separate the two. Secondly, it’s very situational. At times we remember the emotion with a lot of intensity when we think back about something, while other times we remember the exact details of what happened but not necessarily how we felt. It’s really based so much on your state of mind and how much that something has affected you. Sometimes, we remember both. Do you want me to start with examples? You know I can.’’

‘’Aaagghhh!’’ A lets out a frustrated call, making the others seated in the cafe take notice for a short quick second.

‘’Look, I’m not trying to belittle the phase you’re in right now, but I don’t want you to forget that’s what it is - A phase. Memory is so fluid, in a sense. We remember different things about the same incident when we remember it on different days. And we definitely forget things temporarily, especially if we allow ourselves to slip down a negative thought pattern. If that weren’t the case, I would have dumped D’s sorry ass years ago. But I’m here, with him, aren’t I?‘’

‘’Right. You do realise, that’s the worst example ever.  How is D anyway these days?’’ A asks, amused but seemingly relived to be able to focus on something else.

‘’Oh, he’s the same. He’s been spiralling up and down these last couple of years, but he will come around. He always does. You should actually speak to him, A. He’s always dragging me into a complicated loop anyway. Maybe you guys can un-loop yourself by looping each other instead of me!’’ I laugh, quite pleased with my solution for the existential crisis my two favourite people in the world have been stuck in for years.

‘’You make it sound so simple. Just un-loop yourself, get on with your day, pick a hobby, don’t trust everything you remember, and life will be ok. It makes me sick sometimes. Really, is this how you function? I need another tea. Or maybe a coffee.’’ A turns to catch the eye of a cute server, perhaps in his late 20’s, maybe younger. She waves out to him. As she watches him slowly walk towards us, an unmistakably alluring swag, A turns to me and whispers, ‘’Does he not look too put together to be working here?’’

‘’Hi. Can I get you another Tea?’’, he asks as he picks up her empty mug.

‘’Yes. But I think I would like a coffee this time around’’ A responds.

‘’I would recommend you stick to the tea. It’s a pretty dull day outside. Don’t want you trying to bite off more than you can chew.’’ The smirk on his face is undeniably inviting, his interest in A very evident in his body language. A doesn’t seem to notice it though.

‘’Well now, aren’t you smart? What are you doing, working here this early in the day? Shouldn’t you be waking up next to some pretty thing after a night of debauchery’’ I ask, playfully egging him along.

His laugh is deep, and it seems to radiate through his entire body. ‘’ A man who laughs with his soul,’’ I remember A saying in conversation a few months ago, while listing out her criteria for the kind of man she would like to date.

‘’I own the place.’’ He turns to me and responds, the hint of pride written all over his face. After an intentional pause, he turns to look at A, his smirk more pronounced now. ‘’Maybe tomorrow, I’ll wake up next to a pretty thing, if I’m lucky. What do you think?’’ He asks A.

A is clearly blushing, her memory wiped clean of the dilemma she was in moments later. ‘’Maybe you could give me your number along with that tea, and I will think about it.’’, she replies.

He nods in approval and walks away with her empty mug.

We both watch him in silence as he disappears behind a door. As I reach out for the cookie in front of me, A turns to ask, ‘’Really, is it that simple?’’

‘’What is?’’ I enquire, as I nibble on my cookie.

‘’Is it really that simple to wipe away the gloom?’’ Her arms outstretched, she gestures towards the door he disappeared from.

‘’Sometimes… I guess…that’s all you need. Especially when you’re single.’’ I say.

I am done with my cookie, and I look out the window. There is a young girl in a uniform and a raincoat, probably on her way to take a school bus. She seems to be dragging herself on the road, in a quiet rebellion. As I watch her, I am reminded of my mother- she would enter my room at 5 AM every morning, walk over to the window and draw the curtains, while simultaneously yanking my blanket off and dropping it on the floor. Not a single word, but the same motion everyday. I would spring up awake instantly, for the blanket was my warm cocoon- I would set the air condition to 18 every night. I probably looked like that girl too, I think to myself.

‘’Perhaps it’s loneliness. Perhaps that’s what I’m unable to work on. This un-fillable void I’m constantly trying to fill.’’ A says.

‘’Perhaps…’’, I mumble, my mind wandering, my focus shifting inwards. Something about that little girl has managed to tug at my heart. I cannot quite understand it, but I definitely sense something unsettling seeping into my being.

‘’Hey!’’ A waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me back into the present.

‘’Sorry, randomly went somewhere in my head.’’ I apologise before continuing the conversation. ‘’Where is H?? I knew he won’t make it this early. Why does he initiate a plan if he can’t follow through? So annoying. Last week, I was supposed to meet him alone, I waited a whole hour before he showed up! These days, it feels like everyone is on a different time zone and no one wants to make an effort to get anywhere at the same time.’’, I complain.

‘’Do you think I should call him?’’ A asks, her eyes still fixated on the door, waiting for the cute guy to return.

‘’Don’t bother, he won’t pick up, especially now that he is this late. We are just going to have to wait for him. Uugghh he drives me mad sometimes!’’ I can feel myself getting a little edgy, my heartbeat feels elevated and I can sense my shoulders tightening up. Pause and breathe, I tell myself silently. Pause. And. Breathe.

The little girl has disappeared from our view. Probably on the bus already, I assume as I take a few deep breaths… one…two…three.. exhale… and repeat.

‘’I didn’t mean H, you silly. I was talking about the cute guy. I didn’t ask him his name.’’ A responds and then turns to look at me. ‘’What’s the matter with you? You look like you’re gonna crack any minute.’’ A says, her voice filled with concern.

I take a couple of more breaths before I respond.

‘’Nothing. I’m good. Just having a moment.’’

‘’A moment? Why? Because H is late? He’s always late.’’ A is not convinced and the lines on her forehead start to turn into thin folds of concern as she continues, ‘’S, what’s going on?’’

I can feel my heart slowing down again. I wiggle my shoulders and loosen them up a bit before I sit up straight again.

‘’Nothing. just memories. They are tricky. ’’, I say as I smile.

S enjoys looking for wonder in the synchronised dance between inward and outward experiences of life. She weaves stories about how that which is termed as ‘the other’ or the ‘outward experience’ seamlessly comes to merge with that which is termed as ‘the self” or the ‘inward experience’