A coffee would do – Introduction

            It's a white morning. Whole previous night it was snowing and now blinding whiteness is screwing eyelids, teasing eyes that are not used to this volume of light. I'm a night person (and a vampire, yes… I'd like to, sometimes). But I'm happy about that – I like snow. November was warm as for this season and I was afraid that there will be no White Christmas.

            Instantaneously I hear the Bing Crosby's song in my head. I know it by heart.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten
and children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow.

            I like this song so much. And mornings like this, I could forget how bad this world is. And how it kicks my ass everyday.

            I like walking like this. Snow is creaking under my feet, air is cool, sun's trying to pierce through heavy, grey clouds. It's nice. Only these three colours – white, grey and black. I adore it. I adore it so much, that I doesn't notice some guy in black coat, very similar to mine, who seems to be as deep in his own thoughts as I do. So we collide.

"'xcuse me" I murmure, not even looking at him. But as soon as he catches balance, I feel his disgusted look on myself. He doesn't say anything. I ignore him. I just go my way.

            Now I see a bunch of kids making a snowman. Yeah, I did few nice snowmen with my sister and friend when we were little. I still remember wearing three different pairs of gloves and the crazy laughter, when we wanted to make some eyes, and we didn't have even a stone.

            So I walk, and I walk, and I walk. I really can't help but think how painfully beautiful this morning is. I even feel the prick of pain in my heart.

            But, to my bad luck, the kids found a better game than making a snowman. Trying to hit me with a snowball. And – damn their good aim – one of them hits me in face. My glasses fall on the ground. I shout on them, but they just seem to be more encouraged. Next snowballs hit my back, as I try to find my damn glasses – I'm really nearly blind without them and it took me a while to find ones that won't make me look like an old librarian from my school. Costed horribly, but I love them.

            And yes, I find them. I hear they crash under my shoe.

            OH, BLOODY HELL!!!

            Someone else shouts for the kids, the snowballs stop hitting me. Hm, interesting. I try to get up, but I loose my balance and fall on the snow again.

            Damn it! And such a good day it was starting to be!

            Suddenly I see a hand, obviously helping me to rise. I take it, finally stand on my own legs. Damn again, I take my beloved glasses which are now useless. Shit, shit, shit.

            I take a look at my saviour – what a surprise! It's probably the man I collided with. Probably – cause of course I don't see clearly. But from what I do see – tall, slender, black hair nearly to shoulders (oh, how I looove this kind of hair… I could fall in love just because of it), dark eyes looking straight at me. He takes my glasses without a word, murmures something like "Reparo" under his nose, touches it with a wand – where did he gat it from? I didn't notice… – and they're like new ones.

            OK, I'm impressed. He gives them back to me, I put them on my nose and now I see him perfectly. The eyes that appear to be black too, are strange. But I like them. I like to look into people's eyes. There's my observation that ordinary people fear to look straight into someone's eyes. They always turn their heads.

            I never do.

„You look like you need a drink" he jokes with a smirk. But I'm definitely not in the mood for jokes. And of course, I'm not adult to drink, though I look like one. I know I do, everyone tells me this. I can go on an adult movie to the cinema without any problem. I admit, I use it sometimes and it's helpful :-)

"I don't drink before noon" I reply quietly, trying to clean my coat from snow, but it's wet anyway and I start to feel how cold it is today.

"Then a coffee. How about that?"

            I raise my head. My, I would never say his that type. He seems to be a bit older than me – somewhere in his 30s, I'd say. And he invites me for a coffee, just like that.

            I see some sarcasm in his face.

"That would do" I say. And so we go to the nearest café.


            So, let's sum up everything. I'm sitting here in a café, which is rare for me, with a guy who helped me get rid of kids throwing snow at me. And who repared my glasses. And invited me for a coffee. That's rare as well.

            Mmm, good capuccino. Vanilla.

            He drinks simple black coffee with sugar. What did my mom always say about that? Men like to sweeten their life, it's only women who are capable to opt out of sugar. For men. Because they want to be slimer.

"You seem to be a little wet" he says. Duh? How come?

"Well, now that's strange" I take off my coat. It's wet indeed. I noticed an old stove in the corner. If I could hang my coat somewhere there… yes, there is a peg. It's done, I sit back next to him.

            He looks at me.

            Hm. I know I'm kind of pretty. It's not lack of modesty. I am. I like myself.

            But why does he stare?

            I'm not dressed some special way. The usual dark colours. I hate pastels – pink, mauve, blue and so on. I would never dress that. I like strong colour – black, red, dark violet. Yes. But now I'm all black. The blouse with a bit too long sleeves, trousers, boots. And definitely – it's my bad hair day. I had my hair cut lately and I'm still not used to it, so it sticks out in every direction.

"That's better" I say. He smirks. I chuckle. A simple cahin of reaction. "It's not my usual way of meeting people"

"Oh, I hope so"

"So, what do you do for life?"

"I'm a teacher"

            Ah, a teacher. I have some memories of teachers. I know a teacher who doesn't act like one. He's one of my best friends, well, he was at least. I don't know if he still feels that, but I have no reason to think he doesn't. But I haven't talk with him really for a long time. Only in the classroom.

            Ooo, don't look at me like that. He's not *that* kind of friend. Just a friend. Really. I swear.

"I really like this weather" I say again. Sometimes I like to stay silent but now I fell like I have butterflies in my stomach, which is usual if I'm in new situation. This is new. So I need to talk to hide that I'm nervous.

"Even if you're wet?"

"Well, every beauty has its cost"

            Smiles again. And there's the silence, that I'm afraid of.

"So what a girl does in a morning like this except for walking?"

            I wanna smoke. Like hell. Bad addiction, but I don't do that often. Just if I really, really need to. It helps to get rid of stress too.

            I suppose I'm kind of neurotic. Oh well. Nobody is perfect. (My name is NOBODY ^_^)

"Waits for an invitation for a coffee"

"And what if one does not appear?"

"She goes home and contemplates the rest of the day by herself only"

            This capuccino is really good. I haven't taste a better one since… I don't even remember really.

            My stranger wears black too.

            It's damn sexy. I won't ever say that, but he's in my type, maybe except for age… even if fancying elder men is OK, I'm still a teenager. I can watch. I cannot try. But I bloody like this kind of hair and dressing. Maybe because I like to think about myself as someone with dark part of heart.

"And when the day is not so spectacular?"

            I like his tembre of voice, a thought comes to my head.

"I probably learn. Or think. Or… I don't know…"

"And thinking is about?"

"Is that curiousity or you're doing some kind of test?"

"Just curiousity, believe me"

            It's nice here. Classy. This stove in the corner, candle light, well toned colours. Music. I like it. It reminds me of a small café near my beloved school, called "The Source". Every student and former-student comes there. I've been there many times too, and many things happened there.

            Just don't think about it, I say to myself. Memory of "The Source" is unfortunately followed by the memory of my Someone Special, who turned out to be not The One. I understood that. He still didn't.

            That's why I don't come to "The Source" anymore.

            But I remember that there was a question asked. So I say "Things". I know it's not an answer, but he accepts it. Good for me. Maybe he thought that I don't want to answer. Woudn't he be right?

            I touch my neck, it hurts. I've always had some problems with my spine. Too little of practise, too much of sitting in desk or in front of the computer.

"You have some sign on your hand"

            Oh, he noticed that.

"Er… It's a way of getting rid of stress. I think it's better to write things on your hand than cut yourself or do some other harm"

"Well, there's something logical in it"

            I nod.

"And what does that one say?"

            I can't help but smile. It's a lyric from one of my favourite Robbie Williams' songs. "No regrets, they don't work". I show him. He raises his dark eyebrows.

"Original" he comments shortly.

            Is there some way for me not to blush? I know it's kind of childish, but it really helps me sometimes not to do something serious to myself…

"It helps when you're depressed" I explain.

"And were you?"

"Depressed? Well, yes. It happens"

"Why?"

"What are these questions for?" I ask again, because I'm really not used to be asked questions like this. Maybe I'm not used to this, that someone is actually interested about me.

            Oh, I must stop this pesimistic thinking. Out. Out.

"Just curiousity" he smirks again. Strange. I would swear he just smiles, but his smiles look like smirks. Maybe it's natural, don't know. "So why do you feel depressed?" he repeats. Ha, never leaves unanswered questions. Like The Little Prince.

"Well, I believe the same reasons as the majority of adolescents"

"Which are?"

"Oh I don't know, being misunderstood by everyone, feeling lonely and stupid, quarelling with parents… common problems of all teenagers"

"I would say these are not only problems of the teenagers" he says with funny mimic. I mean, it makes me smile.

"Maybe the adults are better in hiding their disappointment of this world" I reply, because I think so. I am rather disappointed, but I don't regret anything. Could be better, but could be worse as well.

"Maybe. But is that good?"

"It sucks. This way or another" I say. 'Cause what's the point of pretending everything's just fine and we have no problems?

"Probably" he takes a drink of his coffee and we fell silent.

            As I said, I don't like silence very much. But it's not that quiet – still there are other people chatting and…

Listening to the music I suddenly have a vision of myself, dancing with my stranger, bodies close, feeling his warmth and feeling safe in his arms.

            I smile a little.

            Ha! Not even in your dreams.

            Suddenly I realize that my capuccino is all drank. Pity.

"I'm Severus Snape"

            But I know, I think with a smile on my face. How could I not know that?

"And you?"

"Natalie. Natalie… Stuart"

            His cup is also empty.

            So that's the end.

            Now wasn't that an adventure?

            We take our coats (mine is still a bit wet, but a lot warmer now – it feels so good. As we walk out, I see a mistletoe over the door.

            Yeah, don't tempt me. It's not a romantic comedie movie or something. I hate romantic comedies! They always end the same!

            And so, we walk out of the café… I don't say anything about the mistletoe, why should I?… things like that happen to me…

            I feel this spicy smell of cold air. It's great. I love winter. Probably I won't say that when it will be freezing –25 degrees and I will be trying to do anything to get my hands warm and dreaming of a really friendly-looking radiator… but at the moment, I adore it. I miss the real winter in my place, where there's no snow at all by now.

            In the café it smelled very nice, cinnamon, pine, I don't know, gingerbread maybe? It's the smell of Christmas itself for me.

            And what's the smell of winter?

"Um, then… goodbye… an thanks for the coffee, I guess"

"See you" he says and goes his way. I stand still. Cold air touches my cheeks.

            He said "see you".


            There's no snow in my place. It's dry and and grey.

            I must wait for my luck.

            But at least I have this image of white scenery there. It makes me feel warm inside – funny, isn't it?

            So I come back home, the last place I want to be this day. The last place I want to be at the majority of days. Home should be a shelter. Mine is a… battlefield.


            I have Saigon in my house.

            My room looks like a bomb exploded there.

            So it's normal :-P

            I don't have a bed even. When Mr. S. moved out, he took all his furniture, the one thing that he left was our bunk bed. I used to sleep on the top but lately I was afraid it would break. So I'm sleeping on a mattress and my back hurts horribly every mourning.

            And all the papers of mine and my sister's are messing up the floor. I really like the view as I like to call it an artistic disorder but it constantly makes my mother mumble something like "Someday I will make an order here".

            I know she won't. She wouldn't dare to touch my things. I would kill everyone who would do this. And especially my sister.

            Mmm, I feel a little dizzy. It happens often to me, I've got some heart problems. Or a neurosis. Maybe both, I don't know. I don't drink coffee too often, actually I try to avoid it. I prefer Coke. The Light one – my friend say that it tasted like a soap, but I like it horribly and I'm addicted to it. Pity it's quite unhealthy – it contains aspartam, which is an artificial sweetener said to be harmful and cancer-causing.

            Oh well. :)

            I've got to take a nice warm bath.


            So I sit in the blue water (added "Bath Salt BLUE LAGOON with Dead Sea Minerals" – I just like the smell and the colour…), I'm reading some book, but I'm not quite aware, what is it (wait, oh no, HOW could I possibly take THAT one?! Grochola "Serce na temblaku"?! I'm touching the bottom). OK, I don't even know what I'm reading about. All my thoughts… are about him. It's really rare for me to meet a person like him. I still keep wondering, what did he mean. And what was all that about. And eventually – why that strange look of him is still in my head.

            Sometimes I think I'm getting crazy. I look at the sign on my left arm, which he noticed – "No regrets, they don't work". I rewrite it, so it's more visible. Must remember.

            Am I? Really?

            Sometimes I see things that are not there, like some phantoms. I have strange dreams and most of it, I don't even remember. I've got terrible headaches quite regularly.

            But they may not be syndroms of insanity, aren't they?

            Therefore, once again I find myself standing in front of a bathroom mirror, with only towel wrapped around my wet body, thinking what the hell I am doing here. It's driving me mad, his empty life. That mourning only made me remember it stronger than usual.

            I want a change.

A song for today: Slade "Merry Christmas Everybody"