Thus Poked Zarathustra

Leaning against the taxi, Taisa snickered at two boys struggling to get their luggage in the trunk. In a few hours, they would be off to the States for the next 2 months and it would be quiet again. Quiet and deafeningly boring.

“I swear I’m gonna get a hernia before 35 if I keep travelling with you.” Max groaned as he lifted another suitcase into the car.

“C’mon, put those stocky muscles to use,” said Victor as he threw in a lighter bag.

“Are you calling me fat?!”

“No, no. You’re sturdy, solid, built like a brick house, thicker than a Snicker-“

“Stop hitting on me. You’re not my type.”

Victor and Max were suddenly enveloped from behind in a tight hug. “I’m so going to miss you guys and your marital squabbles,” Taisa murmured sadly.

“Feeling’s mutual, Tai.”

“Will you be back to see my designs at the year-end fashion show?”

“Yep. Wouldn’t miss seeing you graduate. Finally.”

A smack bounced off of Victor’s head. “If you want, I can lose him over the Atlantic.”

“Nah, the oceans have enough trash in it as is.”

“Heeeey.”

“You drew first blood, Vic,” grinned Max. “You sure you don’t want us to drop you off to work, Tai?”

“Very sure. It’s only a 15-minute walk from here. Besides, wouldn’t want you missing your plane.”

“You could’ve gotten another day off, y’know. Hang around with us at the airport while you still can.”

“No can do, Vic. I already took too many days. Plus, the afternoon shift is easier; not too many come by. And airport food is audaciously overpriced.” Taisa pulled Vic in for another hug. “Have a safe flight.”

“Hmmm, don’t have any power in the matter since I’m not the one piloting,” Vic pretended to muse out loud.

“Thank God,” came Max’s sardonic reply.

Taisa let out another giggle. “Get going Maverick, the danger zone awaits.”

With a few final waves goodbye, the taxi sped away from Taisa, leaving her with one sing- song thought ‘Alone again, naturally.’

Taisa was right to choose the 14:30 to 21:30 shift. It had been a quiet and uneventful day so far. Only two more hours and she could go home and work some more on her designs. And her stitching technique. Her teacher kept reprimanding her for her sloppiness. ‘Wonder if I got a better sewing machine would the stitching would turn out better? Ugh, need to think of another way to make some extra cash. The materials alone will bankrupt me. At least I’ll be the most fashionable hobo under the bridge.’

The chirpy sound of the entrance bell pulled her from her reflections. ‘Aaaand here comes the untimely death of my peaceful day.’

Dragging his feet, entered Xander. ‘How can someone look dead-tired and overly-confident at the same time?!’ Taisa narrowed her eyes slightly and only gave a curt nod. The other barista got up from her spot and disappeared into the back to do her downtime duties.

Taking a seat at the counter, Xander rested his head in his palm and sighed heavily. “The same.”

Irritated that he expected her to remember his exact order, she rolled her eyes but decided against making a smartass comment. While she prepared his double espresso, he observed her movements in silence, noting that her hair was quite shiny.

“There you go.”

“No questions about sugar this time?”

“It was only a one-time thing.” Feeling like she would regret her asking, she went on regardless, “Isn’t it a bit too late to be drinking coffee?”

“Isn’t it a bad business model to second-guess your client’s order?” he snarked back.

She resisted throwing her hands up in frustration as it would have made her look very melodramatic and she got enough unwelcome comments about that as it was. The ‘Drama Queen of Design’ as Vic had affectionately dubbed her.

‘Just a little and the day will be over…’ she busied herself with cleaning, dialing-in and dosing out more coffee while waiting for him to be done and gone. In her diligent frenzy, Taisa did not notice Xander getting up and leaving. Only when the bell chimed again did she see his profile outside while lighting a cigarette. And then he was gone.

‘At least he’s a big tipper.’

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Taisa had her shifts for the entire week in the latter part of the day so she would have more time for her courses and hopefully not run into him again. But like clockwork, Xander came in at 19:30, silently drink his coffee in 15 minutes, and then be off on his morose way.

It was already the third day of this weird routine. Normally she wouldn’t mind recurring customers, but the thing that bothered her most was that they were always the only ones at that hour. Her other coworker was always either apathetically reading some courses or in the back pretending to do downtime. But it wasn’t the silence per se that irked her. It was a nagging feeling that she was expected to say something to him because they were technically not strangers.

“Smoking’s bad for you, y’know?”  She planned on some idle chit-chat to make things feel less awkward, but her brain made her blurt out the world’s most repeated health warning.

Seemingly taken aback by her unexpected outburst, he looked at her and lazily droned “And here I was, living in blissful ignorance until you told me.”

“I have no idea what else I’m supposed to say to you.”

“How about nothing.”

“Ugh! Fine. Keep things awkward!” This time she actually threw her hands up in the air to show her indignance.

An enigmatic smile crossed Xander’s face as she vigorously scrubbed the espresso bar.

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“No, no, no…. the stitching is just too tight… and this overlock makes your fabric wavy in certain places.”

Taisa sighed and looked down at her skirt with great distress. “Very sorry Miss Stoneway. I’ll redo it again.”

“And the calculations for your pattern are also very poor. I have told you all a hundred times: precision is what makes perfect couture.” Miss Stoneway went on to inspect some other student’s project, leaving Taisa with her imperfectly-sewn skirt.

It wasn’t bad enough that she was 2 years older than all the other students, she also had to be the one with the most mistakes. Sure, she had been praised here and there that she had good designs. But was ‘good’ really good enough? Trying hard to keep the tears from building up, she viciously ripped the seams off, bits of red clumpy threads hazardously flying everywhere. ‘Not gonna fail this year. Not gonna fail this year,’ she repeated her mantra hoping to calm down. ‘Just have to focus more; that’s all.’ The knot in her throat made it painful to swallow. ‘Panicking will get you nowhere.’ She grabbed the seam ripper tighter to steady her hand from shaking. ‘Just.Stay.Calm.BREATHEEE.’ And she would have, but the crushing pressure in her chest cavity made it very hard to do so. It was difficult these days for her to tell the difference between a panic attack and an asthma attack.

“Hey, you ok?” Looking to her right, she was greeted by the worried expression of her classmate, Kat.

“Yeah. Just dandy.” Taisa put down her almost completely disassembled project and rested her head in both her palms.

“You don’t have to get so worked up about it. This year is supposed to be extra-exigent and mistakes are bound to happen.”

Staring up ahead into space, Taisa’s green eyes flickered with a heavy sadness. “Don’t think I can afford any more mistakes.”

That evening at work, she wasn’t even phased when Xander came in later than usual. Not a word or glance passed between them as the espresso was made and placed on the counter.

As if sensing her indisposition, Xander was made curios enough to break the silence. “What did Vic do this time?”

“Huh?” Her brain lagged to understand the question.

“It’s ‘pardon’ not ‘huh’.”

Shaking her head to clear her cluttered thoughts, she then leaned over the counter to stare him down. “Please be more explicit.”

“Your bad mood. Someone must have caused it. I assumed it was Victor.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Simple. He’s an idiot - he does and says idiotic things.”

“Hn, fascinating insight you got there Columbo, but you’re way off.” She turned to wash some more cups. ”Vic’s out of town for a few months, same as Max. No one to annoy me except the triad of torture that is me, myself and I.”

“Now that’s a very moronic thing to do.”

She looked over her shoulder to give him an incredulous tone “ ’scuse me?”.

“The most counterproductive thing you could do is make yourself the biggest hindrance.”

Sighing, she shook her hands of some lingering soap suds and leaned with her back against the sink. “This a contrived way of saying ‘I am my worst enemy’?”

“In simple terms, yes.”

“That sounds like the number one vague advice that has been beaten to death by all shitty self-help gurus.”

“I was given very vague details. And self-help gurus ruin everything; even good philosophical interpretations of human drive and ambitions.”

Not satisfied with the direction of this conversation, she went back to rinsing. She never cared much for philosophy; especially Nietzsche. It was one thing to philosophize and an entirely different one to live in the real world.

“Is it the realization that being a barista is a dead-end job the cause of your mood?”

“Thus poked Zarathustra,” she murmured. ”Look; I have some stuff going on with a project. Things are not going so smooth as planned. It happens.” In times of stress, she unwittingly became a blundering oversharer.

“So you do have other skills outside of serving coffee.” Xander deadpanned only to pick up his mocking streak after a short pause. “Impressive.”

“Don’t try too hard to feign shock.” Taisa’s eyebrows lifted up in annoyance.

The mirth in his blue eyes showed that he was clearly amused by her predicament. She was starting to worry he was in such a good mood- well, more talkative than usual at least. ‘Maybe he killed a hooker and threw her off a bridge. If my landlord would start turning tricks, that would make my day, too.’ She bitterly joked with herself.

Looking at the clock, she realized there were 20 minutes left till she got off.

“Why did you come in so late today?” She figured if he liked prodding so much she would take a shot to irk him as well.

“Work.” His very curt reply left no room for further conversational development. Placing his money on the table, he got up to leave. Taisa hesitated for a moment, not really sure if she should say ‘Bye’, ‘See ya later’ or something in that vein. It was very hard to gauge what was appropriate for their flavor of social encounters.

By the time her neurons managed to conjure something up, he was already halfway out the door. Holding her gaze for a brief instant, she settled on giving him a small wave. He in turn lightly flickered his long fingers in acknowledgement of her parting gesture before closing the door. The small interaction left the café to bask in a silent but comfortable aura.

Who knew that a bad day could kill awkwardness?