Yesterday, I was reminded of you again, stumbling upon a new year, a new year without you, still asking me the same question I know will have no answer.
Why you left.
I tried to keep myself occupied, Elikai still visits me from time to time, but yesterday no one came to the coffee shop, the employers left early to enjoy the new year, no customers came, and I stayed alone. And I was drawn to you again. As I looked through our photos again. One kept me awake.
You stood quietly with a broad smile with me next to you, compared to your broad chest and tall body I was a small coffee bean next to you. My small chest and long red wavy hair curled behind me. I had forgotten why we were together in this photograph. But seemed to be in the same year we met.
Not a few days had passed after you had asked for my name, and I became more cautious of you, as each morning in the coffee shop you came jumping through the door. You began to sit always close to the kitchen or counter where I worked, after being promoted to serving people because Jane could no longer help around the coffee shop, I would always wear the white gloves, following the original traditions of my country, where I couldn't be touched skin to skin to a man unless he wasn't married to me. It never bothered me, having this tradition made me feel special, as if I were a gift wrapped in pureness until I were opened by my "one". But many stared strangely at me. You seemed to not mind it. When I told you, you said - "I hope you keep your word"- smirking with both your eyes and lips. At the time I didn't understand your comment on my tradition, but I didn't pay much mind into it. Must be another of your unusual jokes. Some made me laugh and some made me worry about you.
Each morning became a new and different day, where you no longer followed your daily routine, some days you would come in the morning, others late at night before closing the shop. Each time, you would order something differently, exploring the menu and its different combinations to it, I began to fear one day you might try every single recipe in the menu, so I started to wander outside the streets in my free time, exploring the different foods and spices around me, in a market full of people that stared at me, acting as if I were an alien. I tried coming up with new recipes that you might find interesting, maybe I could try to make some of my family's specialties. But I don't have the ingredients. However, I figured I could try those close to my country's ingredients, and I began experimenting.
I knew you would like the O'Hara pancakes; they held the sweet dulce from my country and a tiny bit of liquor, these pancakes were the ones who built up my sweet childhood, without liquor. The first batch of pancakes were not as I had tasted.
Then came the day, on which for the first time I heard such melodic sound of the Vialien, with such an amazing sound I was called into entering the cold museum as tall as a mountain. In the vastness of it all, laid an old woman playing the Vialien, dancing with her eyes closed as she carefully played. There were many people, just looking at her play. When it all ended, I caught her before she left.
"Please teach me!"
Never had I felt so needy of something. I needed to play what this woman was playing. I needed to feel what she was feeling.
She is now my only family after you.
Katherine Rhaegara. An old woman with nothing but her passion for the Vialien. She spoke. But had everything one could imagine, a husband that supported her, children that visited her, a house that always had the lights on, and food that never got cold. I spend most of my free days with them, as she is always trying to make me forget all about you. Her eldest son, Elikai, is the one who most tries.
But here I am.
When the recipe had finally gotten the nearest I could from the sweet childhood flavors, I went to Jane's hospital room, in the usual overall of the coffee shop meetings, just her and I. Her rusty voice and body being consumed by the cancer she could no longer get cured by. She knew that she had little time, and I was one of the few employees that helped her manage the store full time. I started to fear she would leave the store for me, and she did. But I always wanted to believe she gave it to me not because I was her only choice but because she wanted me to be the one in charge. But she was really happy to have seen me add new creations to her menu. If I remember her words exactly. She whispered.
"Thank you, my child, for keeping me alive" She shifted in her bed. "For giving me the hope that I will be alive even after death."
People began to order the new word that appeared on the menu. Maybe it was their curiosity or maybe it was their hunger. But I was overly excited to see your reaction, after all I made this recipe for you. But for the first time in the past 2 months when you first came in through that door, you didn't come. I felt alone amidst the large crowd in the coffee shop, even some usual customers asked me where you had gone.
"Citlali, don't worry, I'm sure John will be here" – "Don't worry my child, John will come" –"I'm sure he'll be here"-"If I see him, ill tell him to come!"
The hours passed, the last customer left. The store was completely closed, I was humming, cleaning the kitchen, minding my own business wondering about Katherine and her classes of Vialein. Suddenly thumping began to rampage through the glass door in front of the coffee shop. It was you, your hair was messy, your breathing heavy, and you had papers falling out of your bag. When I finally opened the door, I offered you a cup of water, and you frantically began drinking it as if it were the last cup of water on the planet. I laughed. And reciprocally you did too. Then you began to talk, whilst you accompanied me cleaning. Your stories were always about your daily basis, how your father complained to you about your studies in the most prestigious school in the country, Halika School for Boys, but you hated the school, the way the teachers would nag you on about what is right and wrong was your biggest issue aside from being surrounded by "idiotic children". In all these tales, you kept complaining. But if I were to be living your life, I could never complain about it.
Even in these past 2 months, the conversation would be led by you. So, I never complained about what we talked about, you made it entertaining. Alluring. And I never had to worry about leading the conversation.
Then you stood up and walked towards me. "Citlali". Your soft yet deep voice, sounding of a whale's call resonated well with my name. You said it perfectly.
"Did I say it right?"
My throat trembled. "You did."
Your body sighed in relief. As you grabbed my hands from my lap and brought them to your chest. My body stood still unable to react to your warm hands. Thankfully my hands had their gloves.
"Tell me more about you Citlali"
That night, the coffee shop lights stayed on all night, and I led the conversation about me. And you listened, laughing, smiling, enjoying me talk about myself.