One rainy night, two strangers and coffee ... Part 4

One rainy night, two strangers and coffee ...

Part 4

o o o Present Day o o o

A year had passed and not a day went by where Asad hadn't thought about Zoya, the Lonely Girl from the Daily Grind Coffee House, the woman he could have had as his wife ... had he just seen her once on the specified day his mother had arranged. If only he placed his stubbornness to the side for one moment and listened to his mother. And fate was a twisted thing, fate had conspired in such way that he met her regardless of his averseness to the whole thing, he just didn't know then that Lonely Girl Zoya was " her " - his mother's chosen girl.

He visited the Daily Grind Coffee House almost every day since that captivating rainy night of last year's monsoon, in hope that maybe, just maybe he would bump into her once again, maybe Mr Coffee Man ignited the same amount of love that Lonely Girl had ignited in him but his search was in vain as days turned to nights, and nights turned into days, days rolled into weeks, and weeks into months and eventually a whole year passed and seasons changed but not once had she ever visited the coffee house again. There were no signs of her anywhere yet he had hope that one day soon if not sooner he would find her footsteps and maybe somewhere in the pure and benevolent recesses of her mind she may have forgiven him, and maybe just then she may take the first step towards him. Alas a year had passed, there were no signs of her footsteps and he still waited avidly.

He found this a paradox, where once he did not care or believe in signs or instincts nor did he ever feel the need to give importance to love, - love that was an unwelcomed guest yet it crept into his life unexpectedly ... he felt irony at the tiny knots that formed in his stomach - an eerie feeling people called love and instinct and intuition now devoured and consumed his soul and heart. Those were the very signs he spent most of his life hiding from, obscuring them every moment he could from his robotic life.

His belief system and monotonous routine had been rattled and disturbed by the Lonely Girl. She was his match, his soulmate and so he was restless in his search for her. He hoped she would be there, at the coffee house but his rational mind always reminded him of how silly that was. She was far, far somewhere in New York or another place in the world probably happy and possibly with her Prince Charming ... and here in the sweltering rains of the monsoon his fairy-tale ending was far from coming true. It was but a mound of ashes of a broken dream that he had set fire to with his own hands and nothing more.

o o o o

Today was the anniversary of the night when Coffee Man met the Lonely Girl, when Asad had met Zoya ... for the first and last time. And so Asad decided to wrap up work earlier and spend the day at the coffee house as long as he could in memory of that rainy night at the Daily Grind Coffee House. He spent every day there since last year, on the same table, with a heart full of love and a mind full of aspirations. 

As usual he entered the Daily Grind Coffee House, and placed an order for a coffee but in place of his regular bitter black coffee, he now ordered a hazelnut cafe latte, in honour of the sweet Zoya, the Lonely Girl, a dream that he wished could become his reality. They say love changes you and whether this was love or not, Asad knew definitely that no one else could ever reside in his heart besides her.

And today was no different, it was one year today he had first met her. Asad sat on the same table from that night and began sipping his hazelnut cafe latte which he came to love a lot. It was only 6.30pm and the place was already crowded with people who were enjoying a warm and welcoming cup of coffee in the torrid rains of the monsoon. This year's monsoon was even mightier than last years; its rains had taken on a different hue as though even nature knew of the tempest that brew in his heart and the yearning that inflicted his mind. The rains took pity on his forlorn state. He sat there amidst the ruins of his once wonderful life, crushed by the anguish he inflicted on himself, he had no one else to blame for his state, and he was bewildered by terror and dazed his way through the pain and longing.

Asad took out the note on which Zoya had penned her feelings alongside his questions and the 2000 rupee note that she had left on the table that night. He kept them as souvenirs all this time; these were tokens he came to cherish more than anything in the world. These were his only memory of her. A lone tear trailed down his chiselled cheek as he studied those memories in his hands for the millionth time, desperate in anticipation for her one look.

o o o o

Asad began sipping his hazelnut cafe latte savouring each sip as he looked out of the glass window of the coffee house. It was raining. He stared at the rain recalling her words about how peaceful the rain was to her, he stared concentrating on remembering her face and her smile that he came to love devotionally. He smiled at the thought of how much he hated the rain, it was cold and he hated getting wet, whereas Zoya enjoyed the rain.  How different they were from each other yet in his heart he felt they truly complemented each other, completed each other. And yet he sat there, alone and incomplete.

He turned his affectionate eyes to the seat opposite him, a seat devoid of her presence; a tear appeared on the brim of his eyelashes once more as he looked at the empty seat in front of him. He closed his eyes to say a prayer for her. He asked God to keep her happy, to keep an angel to watch over her and walk by her side and that Zoya could lead a full and happy life, with good health and prosperity and with all the love that she ever wanted from her Prince Charming.

Asad completed his prayer and his acute sense of hearing was alerted by the thundering roar of a motorbike, its engine clashing and combining with the clasps of thunder that sounded successively across the tender skies, the sounds penetrating the sound barriers of the Daily Grind Coffee House's insulated glass windows. He turned his full attention to the person on the motorbike as they switched the engine off ... optimistic that it might be the Lonely Girl.

The person entered the coffee house, their cloaked self completely drenched by the rain. It was a petite female, her frame slender and she was dressed in a flowing silk cream blouse, over which a fitted red blazer was draped, black skinny jeans and black mid-calf heeled boots, her carry on accessories were a shoulder bag and a scarf draped around her neck. But her face was not visible as it was covered in a full face helmet.

o o o o

Nostalgia engulfed Asad on seeing this sight, as his mind propelled images of the Lonley Girl from that rainy night to the forefront of his mind. A breeze flustered across the coffee house as the door of the Daily Grind was pried opened once more by incoming students who were all set to celebrate the end of term. The cold breeze whispered sweet-nothings of the rainy night, his words and the Lonely Girl's words stirred through Asad heart as this stranger in the fully shielded helmet reminded him of Zoya.

His heart began to beat erratically, his hope brimmed with joy that maybe it could be the Lonely Girl. He watched her every step observantly and painstakingly as she sauntered and walked into the coffee house albeit hesitantly, her head scanning the room from behind the helmet. She casted a long and lingering look at his table as she walked in the periphery of his view,  his eyes waiting for her to stop at the footing of the empty chair on his table.

Alas she didn't, she broke her gaze that lingered at his table and continued walking to the counter where the coffee house baristas were busy taking in orders. Her face was cloaked by a full dark helmet; no portion of her face could be seen. Asad was there in the coffee house but his thoughts were elsewhere, he could not care about the emails that blazed across his screen angrily in that instant but his concentration was in earnest on this mysterious young lady at the counter, his mind wondering at the pause in her footsteps on seeing him and her long gaze on his table. He needed to see her face and put to rest the questions that burnt his mind with anguish. He needed to know if that was her.

End of part 4

© Fatima B Lunat 2013

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