“Strangers’ Talk” (A Short Story)

The sky looks so dark, without any stars or a beautiful moon in its perfect shape. On impulse, I rushed into my ex’s favorite rooftop café with less than one percent possibility that I can finally see those charming pair of eyes that belong only to him. People around me always say that I’m a young woman and shall not waste my time reminisce about him, but the tendency to be completely spellbound whenever I fall in love has always been in my blood. When I dated him, I thought he wasn’t merely my boyfriend, but also the love of my life. That’s why I keep on waiting for him even after two years he dumped me. A slight disappointment emerged in me when I noticed that he isn’t around. After scanning the place for seconds, I chose to sit at the edge, near the thick glass with one chair facing the street and skyscrapers. Without the existence of the man that I hope for, I’m trying to enjoy the busy street of the capital and its combination of polluted air plus dark sky.

After taking a few ships of my latte, a guy who sits right next to me says, “Do you know what I always dream for?”

His husky voice grasps my attention. I’m taking a glance to check him but find myself so surprised when his eyes looking at me. I thought he was talking to someone on the phone. Was he talking to me?

“A writer,” he continues. “The best one.”

I can’t completely understand this surreal moment. This man looks like nothing to my acquaintances or friends or colleagues. Who’s he? He sits with a glass of tea on his table; wearing a suit –not the posh and flashy one, but still looks neat. He has tanned skin with soft brown hair. He doesn’t look rich, but still admirable.

“But instead of becoming one, I’m stuck in an insurance company. Working day by day put the best fake smile on my face in front of the customer.”

Is he drunk? I’m thinking to myself. But that’s not plausible. This is a coffee shop, and he has tea on his table. Or, maybe he had his drink before he went here? Come to think about it, I notice the stack of folders that I didn’t aware of before. Why does this man bring so many folders? Fired? I don’t have the braveness to conclude this one. It’s me who doesn’t understand how an insurance employee works.

“You should try to write something and publish it,” I say politely. Letting him babbles by himself is not the right thing to do. Sometimes we need a stranger to talk to, someone who wholly knows nothing but our faces. And I sense that this man needs me. What if he hangs himself because of my ignorance? I can’t help but get a goosebump when I think about it. “That way, people will know you. They’ll start to wait for your works if you did a great job.”

His face submerges in sadness like my words are an unnerving phrase for him. “I have tried for an uncountable amount of times. No matter how hard I worked, I don’t have the gift that I need.”

I’m trying to keep my composure. “Everything takes time. Maybe you didn’t give it enough to see the result.”

“People said that I’m great. What am I great for?” He sips his drink. I’m quite sure he put something in it…like vodka or gin. Does it taste good? I should give it a try; mint tea and alcohol. “I can’t even call myself good, for all I did was writing something in the school magazine.”

“But not everyone can do that,” I utter my thought. “Maybe people were right. You are great,” I say. “But you’re just too ambitious.”

He looks at me in wonder as if I just said something weird and funny. “It’s an ambition that keeps us alive, Dear. Ambition makes us move every day; gives us a destiny and the energy to reach it.”

“But it’s also ambition that makes you unhappy,” I say in defense. “Why are you living an unhappy life?”

He faces his head down, knowing that I just stroke the vital point. Then both of us rest in silence.

“What are you doing here all alone?” He finally speaks in his trembling voice.

I gulp my latte. “Nothing,” I answer. He might like to tell stories to people, but I don’t. I like to keep things in private. People can’t be trusted easily, especially the ones that you just met. “Just strolling around the city, get bored, and take a rest for a while.”

“You sure you have no intention at all?” He frowns. What now?

“Nope,” I say boldly.

His eyes move unsure; unfocused. “Then why is the man at the counter keeps staring at you with his sad deep ocean eyes?”

The words ‘deep ocean eyes’ make me turn my head within seconds. It’s his! As I lay my eyes on him, the joy that strikes in my heart turns into ashes. I notice the person that made his heart beguiled. His eyes meet mine; trying to tell me not to move an inch because he’s with his lover. I even grasp the way his mouth produces don’t. He doesn’t want me to come to him. He wants me to stay invisible, out of his reach.

This unpolished man who sits next to me needs me to tell him the truth about his career. And now I know that I need him to tell me that the man who loved me won’t come back to me.

He’s with the man of his life now.