Saturday, June 17, 2006

Vignette: Coffee

Sometimes, the perfect cup of coffee is impossible to serve.

I saw him on his computer typing away like a mad man--or an inspired man, depending on how you would see things. He didn't even notice me there. I set the cup of coffee--not too sweet, not too bitter, with just the right amount of cream to hide the sharpness but not cover the flavor--beside him. Yes, I had taken great pains to make the coffee just the way he liked it.

He kept on typing. I knew he wasn't oblivious, though he seemed that way. He would later on pause from his work. He would later on drink that which I prepared for him to energize himself. He would later on grimace and think of some way I had messed up his coffee. It was always that way.

So predictable. And they said writers or artists or whatever were exciting.

I turned to leave. He hadn't even looked up from his work. I could hear the clacking of the keyboard. It didn't slow. The rhythm didn't even falter one bit.

So like him.

"Why?" he called out just as my hand touched the door knob, just as I was about to leave.

I waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. He had stopped typing. The silence was so strange that it was funny. So, I laughed. "I don't believe I understand."

"Why do you keep on making coffee?" he responded. "You know I'm just going to complain that you don't make it right, so why?" The question was about something so mundane, and yet it was so weird. But, what is written on paper is so much different from what is said. I heard the underlying question without a problem.

I opened the door as I answered. "Because you need caffeine in order to write." It's not about him anymore. It's about what needed to be done in order for us to reach our goal. Not everything I do is for him.

"I see," he resumed typing. "It's good, but it's not that hot." His tone was noncommittal. He was forcing himself to get back into his zone.

I smiled smally as I stepped out of his room. Did he mean the coffee or was he talking about something else? Either way, "That's not my fault anymore."

I closed the door and that was that.

2 Comments:

Blogger Drama Queen Amrie said...

i love this one...

7:23 PM  
Blogger Paris dLR said...

thanks.

wanna go out for coffee? :D

4:03 PM  

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