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Wounded Odyssey or How to recover from breakups Chapter V

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Chapter V

 

            Even before Kelly could say anything, the barista said, ” Sorry about that. Common symptoms of de-addiction therapy. Where were we?”

            “Do I have to pay you for the drink?”

            “If you recover from your pain, only then and only if you are willing, we appreciate the tips.”

            The barista calculated the amount of caffeine using the formula taking into account the birth sign, the type of the pain, intensity of pain, her relationship status, her vital stats and her allergies. Still seeing her standing in front of her, he asked, “Any other question?”

            “Will I get a cookie?” She couldn’t resist the temptation of asking her.

            “Definitely!”

            “I love cookies.”         

            “But remember to say your prayer.”

            “What prayer? I am an atheist.”                                                                                                          

            “No worries. It’s a secular prayer.”

            “Okay.” She eyed him suspiciously.

            “Please I want you to take your seat. A minimum of ten minute relaxation time is mandatory before the drink.”

            She nodded and turned. She headed to the seat no. 11. As she walked to her seat, she glanced over the scattered worst-case-scenario coupons lying on the floor. Carmine had told her that this was the first thing people pick up the moment they walk in the coffee shop, as the coupons could provide a free coffee. The small metal replicas of gods has scattered on the floor as well. A big cardboard with GOD FOR SALE lay next to them on the floor. Whether GOD can be bought or not? And these were definitely foreign gods: she hadn’t seen them around much. Maybe the GODS are moving into a newer territory. She was doubtful about this foreign GOD business as her own GOD didn’t help her when needed, then how come these foreign GODS would be of a help. Not much had changed in the behavior of meditating people though couple of them left since she arrived. This place started to grow on her. Everyone seemed at peace and even though who wasn’t at peace, did look calm and relaxed. Against her expectations, she realized that this place was worth a try.

            As she reached to the seat no. 11, she dropped her carry bag on the table and eased on the black sofa. She put on the headphones, looked up and focused the blackness in front. She rested her head on the shoulder of the sofa. The music drifted her into sleep. In her trance, she heard someone, actually him, asking him to get up.

            “Ace, Don’t please let me sleep.” She brushed him aside with her hand, in half sleep.

            A word ‘Chai’ reached her ears.

            “I don’t want that.” She protested, like a child.

            “Dirty Chai.” The words reverberated in his ears, as is someone had pumped too much air into them, suddenly.

            “I said no.” She got up.

            He wasn’t Ace. She opened her eyes, “What?” She felt stupid. She turned to look at other people thinking what would barista would be thinking about her. She blushed in humiliation, lowered her head and licked her lips. With a smile, she said, “Sorry!” What else she could have done?

            “It’s alright.”

            There was a silence. She felt that she had not been completely forgiven. Sensing that, the barista added, “I guess you must haven’t relaxed in a long time.”

            Her face loosened up. He added, “Dirty Chai. Your drink.” He passed the gold cup with a silver sleeve.

            “Thanks.” She said.

            The barista left to the toppled table and started cleaning the mess created by the white guys, sometime ago. She wanted to ask him what does he meant by ‘Dirty Chai’ but discarded the idea as the smell of the coffee hit her nose. The sleeve around the coffee cup was loose. It moved around as she pulled the coffee cup closer. When she closely examined the silver sleep, she found what she was looking for.

            Dirty Chai TM  

            Espresso (One shot) – One ounce

            Chai (concentrate) – One ounce

            Mile (Whole)- to make 12 ounces

 

            After ten minutes, she got fidgety. The music in her ears sounded nonsense. She tried to rhythmically tapped the table with her fingers but she was only able to exhale the breath forcefully, in her defeat. Just like some of them in the coffee shop, she stared at the black wall and she expected that peace will dawn on her instantly. It didn’t happen. One moment she thought about meditating and the next moment she pondered what should she meditate over. Every time she tried thinking about one specific thing, other thing came to her mind. And before she could channelize her thoughts in one single direction, something else popped in her head. This something else was related to other thoughts, which she had forgotten but her brain kept them alive by mental associations. She thought of thinking good optimistic thought. Soon this exercise turned out to be futile. Her love, anger, regret, guilt and joy were all interlinked. And unless she could exorcise her demons, the they would haunt her and continue to make her helpless. She felt so impotent that she had this vomiting reflex set up in her, like whenever she went to hills by a bus trip. Also this thinking had left her with no time to think about the things that she really wanted to think. She wanted to pull out her hairs but only ended up uprooting her headphones, which she had forgotten she had on and then into her hairs. Her thinking, she had realized, had become messy just like her hairs. For a flip second, she thought to get up, throw everything, and storm out. But that would have been easy. Then, she got up and headed to the barista. Before she could say and tell him about her decision, he said, “I know it must be really tough on you. So much you have gone through and still you had to face again for your recovery. Trust me if there would be a way, I would have done the same. But hardest path is actually the best path of recovery.”

            She stared him.

            “I know you must feel like quitting. But you should turn and look at every one of them, they all, everyone in the coffee shop, at one time for another, felt weak at their knees. They felt like quitting but they didn’t. I don’t know whether they had made a progress that you should ask them. This is all what I wanted to tell you. Decision of coming again or not is entirely yours. Thank you for trusting us.”

            “Thank you.” She said, as she turned.

            “Excuse me.”She had been called.

            Couple of steps toward the doors, she stopped.

            She looked over her shoulder.

            “You forgot your wish.” He raised his hand over the order screen.

            Inquisitive, she turned.

            “What’s that?”

            “Your oatmeal cookie. Here!” He placed the cookie, wrapped in butter paper, in her palm.

            “Thanks.”

            “Just don’t forget your prayer.”

            She eyed his suspiciously. He closed his eyes, in response, to comfort her. When the flustered look did not leave her face, he said, “Answer lies in the butter paper.”

 

to be continued…

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Wounded Odyssey or How to recover from breakups Chapter II

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Chapter II

            So often she had been dumped or she had broken up with people that her memory was hazy about the encounter except him, maybe because he was the last. After that day, she had resolved to not fall for anyone however intelligent, witty or good looking the person maybe. She knew she had hard time keeping the resolution but she did nonetheless. So many different worlds she travelled in her love. She had fragmented memories of her visiting a coffee shop when she was a tea-drinking class citizen in love with a coffee-drinking class boy *1or she got addicted to flavored yoghurt as she fought hard to recover from addiction of her lover*2 or she as Reality fought tooth and nails her lover or ideal, Dream-man who once professed his love for her*3 or she had been an oatmeal cookie who had been nibbled often*4 or many such live she had lived*5. These fragments made her bleed and nothing stayed except pain. Carmine, on the contrary said, said, “It’s your problem. You have only remembered pain. All love affairs or relationships, however manufactured and manipulative they have been, are a store house of varied emotions.”  Her words only forced loneliness in her. She believed that all the humanity was against her and it was better to be alone. She would often yell at Carmine and barge out of her apartment.

            “Look up and around you. See the blackness of wall and roof.”

            “Yep.” She looked around.

            “Do you see white circles?”

            She focused intently on the walls but failed to see anything apart from blackness.

            “Do you?”

            “You will see them.”

            “How?”

            “This blackness has the supernatural powers to suck up all the negative and haunting thoughts that had stuck obstinately in your head.”

            She stared at Carmine before saying, “You want me to believe all this.”

            The coffee beans had been grounded again and had been put in the coffee brewer. The steam came out and wafted over the counter. It floated a little while like a white hazy cloud in the coffee shop before disappearing. Though the cloud had disappeared but the smell travelled invisibly and mysteriously to them, instilling in their thoughts a priming desire to get the dose of caffeine. 

            At that very moment, she salivated and licked her lips. She would want to sip her coffee and get out of this place, where she started to feel cloistered. She knew she needed a full cup of joe to turn her into robotic version of herself. She can’t get thing done and at times she felt that she can’t think straight without the caffeine.

            “But how does it work?” She asked, just to continue the conversation.

            “You go and talk to barista.”

            “Really? But how will that help me?”

            “I don’t know.” Carmine said to her and then added. “You never have told any of us. But you better know what’s wrong with you: your childhood, breakups, relationships with family members or some existential or metaphysical matter like how fucked up the world had become, where no one gives shit about you or fellow humans or god knows what.”

            Carmine took a deep breath and whispered. “Also, this place has connection with someone supernatural also known as GOD who is supposed to treat any possible anomaly, you may have. And one look at you, anyone can tell you that you have at least one of them, if not many.”

            She look at Carmine. For a moment, she felt perplexed, then unconcerned or then a mixed emotion took over her. Carmine waited for her to say something.

            “You are kidding.”

            “No, I am not.” Carmine resisted.

            “Not only you sound unscientific but ludicrous too.”

            “I maybe. But a barista, whom I had dated, used to work here, told me all this.”

            “And you believed all that.” She reasoned.

            Carmine stared at her. She continued.

            “Even if I agree with what you say, tell me how and why will GOD help me out?”    

            Carmine stared.

            “And how GOD will help me via this coffee shop?”

             “In return to His help, I have been told, GOD will acquire the first hand rights of haunting thoughts attracted by the black walls of this coffee shop. He had realized that his stock of haunting thoughts don’t challenge the new generation properly. And without the proper challenging how can He expects us to be wise humans.”

            “You mean to say that GOD is lazy.”

            “He is crazy busy with many things, apart from creating a breed of humans which aren’t swayed by mob mentality, so instead of writing the algorithms for novel haunting thoughts, He buys them from places where people come to get rid of them, like coffee shops, bars, and even to little extent from libraries. Where else will He find better and already tested haunting thoughts?”

            “Preposterous! I don’t believe a single word you are saying. Let’s go.” She was ready to get up but stayed when she saw no response from Carmine.

            “That’s okay. I didn’t believe these words until my boyfriend dumped me and left for a job in the city. In hope of finding him here, I often visited this place but no he never returned. Over time, I realized that I felt better whenever I visited this place.”

            “How?”

            “I don’t know. Before we go, let’s get free coffee.”

            “What?”

            “Yes. It won’t cost you a single penny to get coffee here.”

            “How can a local coffee shop afford to sell coffee free of cost without going out of the business?”

            “I wanted to ask this question from you.” Carmine seemed impressed.

            “The place maybe supported by some non-profit organization.”

            “Maybe! Can you explain gold pleated gates, gold coffee cups, gold lined grinder and brewer, and barista wearing gold bracelets etc. And the rent of this place, as it is in the heart of the city, you know what I am talking.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “That it all link back to GOD. Nothing else.”

            “Still…I don’t believe you. But if you want to give me a try, I’ll do.”

            “Great.” Carmine got up, went down and whispered to her, “If possible ask for a cookie with you dose of caffeine, it’s just pure bliss.”

            “Stay here. Don’t leave me alone.” She whispered back.        

            “You are on your own from here on, babe.” Carmine replied, as she turned to the doors.

 

*1 to 5 will be made available soon.

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Wounded Odyssey or How to recover from breakups Chapter I

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Wounded Odyssey

or

How to recover from breakups

 

The unexamined cup is not worth drinking. – Kristopher G. Phillips, Coffee -Philosophy for everyone

Chapter I

            Nothing mattered. How could it matter anymore? She was nothing without Ace. Kelly had pondered, biting the nails, fidgeting unnecessarily, and getting adrenalized at expectation of her cellphone could vibrate at any time. She hadn’t missed a call in  a long time. And it wasn’t him. It was her. It was her resolution to stay away from him. She could handle insomnia but how could her dreams turning into nightmares. In her disturbed sleep, she had heard the prophecy numerous time, in a headless voice that she is going to die. The way words came to haunt her in the broad daylight she felt that nightmare was forcing her to commit suicide. She had become so paranoid that she thrashed her friends who came to meet her.

“Why do you think I need your help? You sicko, who hadn’t done a thing worth remembering in your life, need help, not I?” She said to Carmine, when she asked about the help. Her entire body shook in anger. Carmine came forward from her groups of friends and hugged her. She pushed her at first and resisted her hug.

“Help? I know you are taking pity on me. I don’t want that.”

“No we love you.” Carmine hugged her.

She sobbed and couldn’t hold back her tears. She was inconsolable that night. The liquor, which should have calmed her down, on the contrary, made her angrier. She did two things that night: she drank and she yelled at things: real and imaginary.

It was headache which woke her up next day. She walked into the living room. Carmine sat on the couch in the living room, poring over the comic book that Ace had bought for her. She had told him multiple times that she didn’t like books masquerading as movies and for the life of her, she can’t take superheroes problems and mental angst seriously. But her arrival didn’t break Carmine concentration. Seeing Carmine flipping the glossy pages of the comic book, a little envy took over her, sending that there must be something in the books, heck they would be at least interesting, if a person like Carmine was reading words written in and out of word balloons. She coughed to mark her arrival.

            “Hey babe, you up. Freshen up. We need to go somewhere.” Holding the book in her left hand, she felt backward on the couch and kept the comic book over her breasts.

            “Where?” She leaned against the kitchen counter.

            “Where you should be?”

            “And where that would be?”

            “You just get ready.”

            “Don’t you have work to do in the lab?” She reminded her the curse of graduate students.

            “I only have couple of hours of work. Plus, it’s Saturday.”

            Carmine shooed her away and picked up the comic, returned to her sitting posture and continued from where she had left.

            Carmine drove her through the busiest road, bustling with people, in their shorts, with their kids in strollers, heading for the community park. As she lowered the window, the fresh breeze hit her warm face and she got goosebumps all over her body. Happiness jolted through her body for no specific reason. It made her to think in order to be happy she should get up early. The college students with black goggles and messy hairs leisurely crossed the pedestrian sign. People walked alone lost in thoughts or conversations, kids run around the tiny stone animals in the park, and dog dug in the dirt, next to the sidewalk. Carmine pulled up in a parking spot, undid the belt, and looked at her.

“Come out you princess.”

Carmine stood out with her hand on her hips, with key chain jangling in one of her fingers.

She tried to rake her mind when was the last time she had heard someone telling her a princess. She looked at Carmine, smiled and stepped out of the car. She wanted to say thank you but stopped sort to express her feelings for the fear that it might make her feel more vulnerable.  

Carmine pressed the key in her hand and the alarm in the car beeped. Carmine took couple of steps, stretched her hands to pull the doors of a coffee shop.

“Why the coffee shop?” She asked her as she followed Carmine inside.

The smell of coffee grounds and artificial flavors hit their noses. The barista raised her head from the counter for a moment to acknowledge their presence. Otherwise silence pervaded in the coffee shop. Everyone was occupied. People sat there unmoved, almost in meditation. Some poured over newspapers with their specks right at tip of their noses while others scribbled on A4 size papers. Some sat facing the black wall with headphones on their heads like DJs while others looked up, with their hearing ads on the table in front them. Some had their pens on ears while others scratched back of their heads with the tip of their pens. Everyone behaved disciplined, like kids in kindergarten.

Carmine pulled a chair and asked her to sit in the seat marked, ‘New customers only.’ She pulled out another chair and sat in front of her.

            “I read somewhere that caffeine increases your pain threshold.” Carmine reasoned.

            “Look at these red patches.” She showed her arm to Carmine. Carmine carefully examined her arm and gave her a puzzled look.

            “Allergy?”

            “I don’t know.” She was unsure whether it was because of caffeine. She was also not very sure how to read Carmine behavior. She looked at Carmine: she had not behaved like this before. Why was she concerned about her suddenly? She took her eyes off of Carmine’s penetrating gaze and breathed deep. Another thought kicked in her brain. Or Carmine was always like that but she hadn’t noticed that. Whatever was that, she couldn’t remain unimpressed by her concern.

            “What’s so special about this coffee shop? We could have had coffee at home.” She tried to change her mental thought by asking the question.

            “It’s not about caffeine only. It’s about from where you get the daily dose of caffeine.” Carmine whispered.

            “Why did you bring me here?”

            “I’m your friend. I just want to help. If you don’t like it here, we can always leave.”

            “So you want me to get rid of my resolution. Don’t you?” She looked back at Carmine.

            Carmine stared at her.

            “Without even knowing what is my resolution.”

            “I don’t want to know. That’s your decision.”

            Her lips opened up in a smile and she asked, “Do all these people are…?” Before she could articulate the sentence, Carmine confirmed her doubts, “Yes. They are being helped.”

 

To be continued…

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