Finals and Cafes Don’t Mix
Not that I’m going to move . . . .
In the midst of a 24 hour take-home final, I decide that solitary confinement in my house isn’t encouraging creative thought or active problem solving, so I’ve relocated to Cafe Evolution (hey kids, still no link back, for shame . . . ) for lunch and some exam action.
What sits before me? A couple so obviously in the throes of new love that I want to chuck hunks of abandoned salad and bread at them. No, no, I’m not one of those “ick, I hate happy folks types.” I’m just jealous of course. I’d rather be kissing someone than taking an exam as well.
They’re clearly older than high-schoolers, but they have that first-love, youngster vibe: when there is absolutely no imaginable way to get enough of the other person’s lips. When just looking at someone is all you need to survive. Their bowls of latte languish in the afternoon sun as they nestle into the Alice-in-Wonderland, purple and green chair – two mannequins in the window who’ve come to life solely for each other.
From where I sit, all I get is the back of the girl’s head and the delicious, albeit voyeristic, view of the guy as his just looks at her. After each kiss, it’s like he sees her for the first time, his expression moving from awe to awareness as a smile slowly spreads across his face. They’ve exchanged perhaps four words in the last 40 minutes. I doubt they notice that. Or the passage of time.
Last time I sat in that chair, I nestled only with my law books, each time I looked up from them, my expression moved from awe to confusion, as worry lines crossed my forehead and beads of sweat developed at the thought of impending exams.
But more truthfully, I can’t remember the last time I sat in that chair.
I’ve long since stopped stealing glances at them and have moved on to just plain staring. They won’t notice anyway. For him, there’s nothing but her fan-shaped shell earings, her bright tank top, her serpent tattoo, her blonde pixie hair. I don’t know either of them – and I never will. But I hope she’s looking back at him the same way he’s looking at her. I’m already his fan in this relationship – anyone who looks at anyone else that truthfully deserves nothing less in return.
I wonder if he has a brother . . . .