"Esque"
It was awkward. I didn’t really have anything to say and neither did she. Small talk would seem to be the order of the day. Rigid, soulless etiquette kept us there trying to get along.
In the branches of a nearby tree I saw a straits robin. It was a small black and white bird, with a long tail which it flicked periodically. I once teased a former girlfriend into believing it was called a flip-arse bird. Then again she had once believed that the air pressured Burswood Dome was inflated by men with bicycle pumps.
We wore blank tired looks. We sat shaded under a pitifully inadequate umbrella which sheltered a small round table with wrought iron chairs. The shade cast is miserly and we have to almost squeeze into what shadow is bestowed. At least from this proximity I can breathe the pleasant aromas which emanate from her hair and skin. The chairs were obviously built for aesthetics which was evident with the restless squirming we both suffered trying to find comfort in their rusting embraces. The umbrella’s stand came up through the stupid little hole in the center of the metal table. It robbed us of space and forced the edges of our laptops to protrude off the edges of the table. There was hardly room for the ashtray.
Not that it was a welcome object in any case. She didn’t smoke and tried to keep the disgust off her face at the smell and the floating smoke but still she maintains a polite façade. In the background I hear Snowpatrol's "Run". It's one of my favourite songs. It seems fitting for the moment.
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say
I sigh and stub out the cigarette. I hadn’t even enjoyed it. The end still burns and violates her space and senses.
She frowns but finally she speaks again.
“I do despair. It all seems so aimless. I have no idea how all this connects me to my future. I’ve been told that this is all meaningless anyway.”
There is a momentary silence before I reply. The silence is unnecessary. I already knew the answer.
“It is meaningless. All it proves is that you have the ability to carry through.”
“Will I ever look back and think that it was beneficial to me? That I need this?”
“There will be times. I can admit that much.”
Even the coffee is as weak as the conversation. Here it’s just dark grit in hot water. I don’t know how to justify the cost. I suppose someone has to pay for the awkward chairs and the stupid table with its feeble umbrella.
“I have to go” she says smiling apologetically looking at her watch. I didn’t have to be told and she didn’t have to look. It couldn’t have been long since she last glanced at her timepiece and not even as long ago as the look before last.
I must admit I felt some relief. Though I had so much wisdom and warning I could impart on her youth and naivety. She would face all the darkness and harshness life could throw at her. I hoped she’d mostly walk in light.
I drank the grit. The straits robin sang. Hopped once. Flipped twice. Then it turned around and flew away. It was then I knew she’d be just fine.
END
