| There's a million reasons why he could have been sitting at that particular table on that particular sunny afternoon, but god damn it if he come up with a single one. It was the table he always sat at he thought but so what? He also sat at a lot of other tables. Like the one in his apartment. Or the one at work. Or countless other tables that he had, on occasion, sat at, at one time or another. It also happened to be the only table open at the time. Ok that's a little better, but still lacking any sort of significant meaning, let alone a cause to contemplate divine intervention. What about the afternoon. Why was he there this afternoon. He had nothing better to do. No. He was told to be there. Nope. He was hoping for something… Almost. Someone. Bingo. He was sitting at that table on that afternoon because he was hoping for someone. Hoping that they would be there, or maybe just hoping for evidence that they had been there. Actually what he was hoping for was reassurance that they had not quite been there yet, but would be soon, but that's a hard realization to come to when you're still struggling with why you're doing what you're doing in the first place. Anyway, he sat there for a while, drinking… some blue thing… he couldn't remember the name. The person before him had ordered one and he thought it looked cool so he ordered the same. He sat there waiting, and drinking, for about half an hour before even the smallest of scenery change took place. A swift gush of cold air enveloped him from behind, signifying that someone had just come through the door. He turned expectantly, only to come eye to eye with a girl he could not identify. Her face, and most of her other features, had been obscured by a thick bundle of coat and other accessories. He turned back to what he was doing. What was he doing? In reality, nothing. Sitting. Waiting. And Hoping. Drinking he told himself. He took another sip. He looked around the room again, stopping his attention on each table, each chair, he could make contact with. Every table was occupied. Unfamiliar people doubled up at the tables that could fit more than a single person. Although it was afternoon, the place was unusually dark. A light had blown right in the center of the room and hadn't been replaced yet. "I like the new atmosphere" he overheard one person saying. "darker, more intimate." He didn't agree, but that was just an opinion. Opinions are meaningless, save for a way to begin a conversation. The fact of the matter was that a light had blown, and eventually they would fix it. The ‘mood' was not a consideration. "Is this seat taken?" In fact if the mood had been considered at all, they would have simply dimmed the lights. They can do that after all. "Excuse me?" When would they fix it? "Is this seat taken?" Did someone say something? He diverted his attention to the shadow to the right. Once again he came eye to eye with the girl he did not recognize. "May I sit here?" She had an accent, not quite British, but similar. Maybe it was British. That again would just be his opinion, not an established fact. "Hello?" His eyes jumped. He hung for a moment suddenly realizing something had been asked of him, or to him, or at him. Regardless it was something and required an answer. Yes he though, then "Yes" came from his mouth. "I mean sure. I mean no. No one is sitting here. Go ahead." "Thank you". The shadowy figure of a girl claimed a seat across from him. Was this intimate? He thought. Not unless intimacy is the fools euphemism for discomforting. He smiled visibly, hiding a laugh beneath his breath. The girl looked at him and smiled but he did not notice. She took a sip from her drink and pulled out a book. He looked again at the door. There had been no breeze, but he looked anyway. Expectantly. Then he scanned the room. It was the same. The same except, of course, for the shadowy girl now sitting across from him, sharing his table. And still wearing her coat. He noted to himself mentally. His eyes sank quizzically for a moment. He grabbed a magazine laying next to him and gave a 'none-at-all' effort to read it. He flipped the pages not even enough to read the titles of the articles, stopping occasionally to read a cartoon, or to contemplate an ad he found particularly confusing or interesting. Often the same thing. Then he closed it and looked again at the door. His drink was gone. He got another and sat back down. The girl looked up from her book. "Are you waiting for someone?" "Huh?" "Are you waiting for someone?" Hoping. "No" Maybe. "Because you look like you are. If you are, that's fine, I'll move, I mean if this seat is taken" It's obviously not, if you're sitting in it now, or rather it is, but by you. And anyhow I'm not waiting for anyone so it doesn't matter. "No, that's ok". He looked again at the door, and around the room. "You're obviously looking for something. What are you looking for?" Why are you still wearing your coat? "Why are you still wearing your coat?" She paused a moment at the sudden change in subject. "It's cold in here." "No it's not. I mean I don't believe that, that is, I don't think it is cold in here." She smiled lightly. "Well I think it is… that is my opinion." Her opinion… means nothing. "Our opinions don't make us wear coats. You are cold and that is a fact. That is why you are still wearing your coat. It being cold in here is neither a reason nor an excuse. It is an opinion based on observation of your own self. You wear your coat because you feel cold. This leads you to the conclusion that it is cold in here, which you take in as fact, but it's not." Stop "I am cold." She said, modestly correcting herself. She looked briefly back at her book, which she |
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still held open, then marked the page and closed it. "Who are you looking for?" "Nobody."
The conversation had now started, marked by the expression of an opinion. "Why do you keep asking me that?" "Well you keep looking at the door, and around the room. Either you're expecting someone to arrive or you're incredibly paranoid." "I'm incredibly paranoid." His eyes glanced around the room as he answered.
"Then why'd you let me sit here?" His eyes now fixed on hers. "Stop looking around the room. You're liable to frighten the other customers." The smirk she delivered with her words went into his subconscious, but was otherwise unnoticed. "Take your coat off." "What?" "If you want me to stop looking around the room take your coat off." "But I'm cold." "And I'm waiting for someone." "No you're not" "Yes I am" "You said you were incredibly paranoid" "I said I was looking for someone" "I said you were looking for someone, you said it was paranoia, and regardless, that doesn't change the fact that I'm still cold" "Take off your coat". She delivered the smirk a second time and this time he caught it. He smiled back. She slipped her head out from within the hood of the coat. She gently unzipped the coat, removed it, and draped it across the back of the chair. "Now stop looking around the room". He looked at his drink. He swirled it around watching the intricate patterns the light painted across the half melted ice. He looked back at the girl. Had he been at all interested in meeting or talking to new people, she would have been rather attractive, however he wasn't, and she wasn't. At least that was his opinion. "Still cold?" "No" she said. "Where are you from?" "Why do you ask?" "I'm incredibly paranoid." He didn't really mean this. He was flirting. Not because he thought she was pretty, just because that's what he did. Naturally. All the time, to everybody, including old ladies he helped cross the street. "and you have an accent. I noticed it when you first came over. I thought it was British, but I was wrong. I can't place it. Some territory maybe? One of the…" "I am British".
That's a fact… "Really?" He was surprised. …unless she's lying. "But it doesn't fit." "I grew up in Poland, but my parents are British. The have British accents. I'm British, but I've acquired part of the Polish accent as well." He found this genuinely interesting. Indeed he stopped glancing around the room. "How long did you live in Poland?" "All my life."
Not so. "So you're there right now?" A simple laugh escaped her. "No, now I'm here. All my life
minus the times I didn't". "Which is how long" "Approximately twenty three years." "And now you're here?" "…no." "But you are." They were both looking directly at each other now, eyes locked, words dancing off each other in fluid tandem, prying at each other's logic. She is. That's a fact. "I am not. That is my opinion." "NO, that's a fact. It's a fact that you are not someplace other than here. You are here." "Then why did you ask?" "Assertion" "Assertion?" "I had to make sure." "Make sure…" "Yes" "That I was here" "Yes" "And why's that?" "I…" they completed the thought together "…am incredibly paranoid." Silence. Touché she thought.
"Why did you sit here?" he asked her. It wasn't the only seat available. "It was the only seat available." "I know that's not true." "It's not?" "There were plenty of other seats at other occupied tables." "Is that a fact?"
"Yes" Shit, no it's not. "Well…" damn "…to me…" she caught me "…this was the only seat available." "Which makes it your opinion" "And not a fact." "…that there were other seats available." He nodded. Who is this girl?
"Why did you really sit here?" he said. "Why did you sit here?" "Here where?" "At this table." "Why did I sit here, at this particular table?" "Yes" "I always sit here". "Always?" "…except for the times that I'm not." "Try again." She was obviously not content with his answer. "It was the only table available?" He knew that wasn't valid now, but threw it out there all the same, for the sake of completeness. I know she's not going to accept that
"You know I'm not going to accept that."
Checkmate he thought to himself. He knew where this was going, because he had already been there. "I'm waiting for someone." She took the last sip of her drink and set the cup aside.
Who "Who are you waiting for?" "I don't know." "You don't know who you're waiting for?" "No" "How could you not know?" "I just don't" "…Then it could be anyone." "I suppose." His eyes now sank back to his drink, which he swirled and studied intently. "I think I know who it is." He looked back up. "How could you know if I don't even know." "I think it's me." Who is this girl? What kind of ridiculous statement is that??
"You? I don't even know you?" "You also don't know who you're looking for." He pondered that for a moment. It made sense.
Damn it. He tried to find a way out of it "If it's you…." He paused. "… it's merely your opinion that it is you. When in fact it could be anyone…" He paused again. "Are you saying it's not me?" "No… maybe… I'm saying it's not necessarily you." "I think it is"
"I think it's not!" "Why do you think it's not?" "How could I be waiting for someone I didn't even know?" "That's irrelevant. It's fact that you are here, and you were waiting. It's also fact that I arrived. Any reason to explain why is just opinion" "…and means nothing." He finished, nodding. "Well in that case…" he said, admitting defeat. "…are you ready to go?" She smiled "I am" and put on her coat. The two of them left together. As they opened the door a blast of cold air filled the room. "What is your name?" An answer was made in whispers. "Is that a fact?" "No, just my opinion. And yours?" "Likewise… it doesn't matter."
11/30/03 t^ |