Between Cups of Coffee Page 3

  I said: ‘what a question, of course, everyone likes travelling.’

  I was thinking of holidays. Perhaps she had already planned her travel. Maybe she had collected several travel plans from different travel agents; the magazines sitting tidily on her bedroom table; now an uninhabited room waiting to be altered by whoever settles in it, the new tenant.

  But was she seriously thinking of travelling alone while she knew she was ill?

  5

  I looked at the envelope on my desk. I put it in my pocket. Just then there was a knock at my door. This student, Richard, came in. He wanted to know about the exam dates. The timetable was already published on the usual board. It was also announced electronically and each student should have received from the admin a personal e-mail giving them their timetable. I explained the whole thing to him. I was tired and wanted to go home. He wasn’t convinced by my explanation, stood there looking at me working and then reluctantly left the room.

  A few minutes later, the phone rang, it was Carol. I thought she must have been airborne by then.

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘if you don’t want me to leave, then you will be happy to know I changed my mind. I decided to stay; after all this is just a ticket.’

  I wanted to say, ‘no! It is not only a ticket, It is much more than that, and what about your mother who is probably having coffee in the airport smoking away waiting for your arrival?’ But I didn’t say anything. I had already prepared my mind about her leaving, not being in my flat with the smell of her perfume everywhere. But I didn’t utter a word. Of course now she needed to stay somewhere; my flat would be a reasonable choice until she found a place again. I coughed. She said:

  ‘Do you have a cold? Did you hear what I just said?’

  ‘Yes! This is all your decision. You decided to go and you are welcome to stay.’

  I said it in an indifferent and somewhat annoyed voice. But she took the ‘welcome’ and considered my annoyance as a sign of me being hurt that she had decided to leave without telling me properly in advance.

  She said, ‘I knew you were not like that, like any other man.’

  I coughed again. She was in the mood for talking:

  ‘We will have a hot soup and you will sleep better.’

  ‘I have an urgent document to finish. I wouldn’t be early.’

  ‘Don’t worry I will be waiting for you.’ Obviously she hadn’t thrown away the key to the flat.

  I put the phone down. There was another knock at the door. Richard came in again.

  ‘Sorry but I do not know why you ignore my request. You are my personal tutor. I want to know about my exam dates.

  ‘I told you what to do.’

  ‘All I am saying is that you don’t pay attention to my case.’

  ‘I explained everything in detail. You are not a first year student. You should be able to deal with the timetable.’

  ‘But I cannot find the information.’

  ‘Your other colleagues can.’

  ‘I don’t know about them.’

  ‘Don’t you see each other in classes if not outside?’ I was trying to tidy up.

  ‘I cannot see why I should not ask my personal tutor about my timetable.’

  ‘In that case you will need to come back some other time. I have other priorities at the moment.’

  ‘It is always difficult to find you.’

  ‘That is my business. If you want to contact me you can e-mail me for an appointment or you can phone my office.’

  ‘OK, can you give me an appointment?’

  ‘What is it about?’

  ‘My exam timetable.’

  ‘Sorry. For that you should see the announcement board or check electronically.’

  He said something with closed mouth.

  ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘I want to ask you for a favour.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  He was very polite. His stance had changed.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Could I borrow your calculator? I have a test and my calculator is broken.’

  I opened my drawer and gave him the calculator.

  ‘I will bring it back to you after the test.’

  ‘Don’t worry, just put it in my pigeon-hole.’

  ‘Would it be OK?’

  ‘Yes!’ I was sharp.

  He left the room.

  I don’t know why I got into that conversation with the boy. I was tired, my throat was hurting and the prospect of going home was not appealing. I still had quite a bit of work to finish and without a tidy desk I couldn’t concentrate. The course leader’s report to show destination statistics of students who had finished last year, the number and performance of current students compared to last year and the reasons for any variations, a critical self-assessment! What B.S. I add a ‘c’ after it and the degree is given! And it is the degree they are good at! After three years of B.S. They get a B.Sc. what a load of garbage I thought. This is the time I should spend on research. By the time I finish the report and go home, Carol would be back at the flat; probably with her suitcases semi-open in the middle of the room. She would be drying her hair or applying nail varnish.

  I was coughing and started counting the number of students on the computer list.

  The telephone rang again. It was the Chair of the Department.

  ‘Hello Michael. What can I do for you’? I said.

  He was formal: ‘What is the situation about this student.’

  ‘Which student?’

  ‘Richard Farmbaker.’

  ‘Nothing much, bit of a bore really. He is hustling me for the exams timetable.’

  ‘He says you won’t give him his timetable.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why won’t you give him his timetable?’

  I said: ‘Because I am not going to spend my time on something obvious. I am here to help students with real academic problems, not to act as an information board. The timetable is announced for all, they should have received an electronic alert as well, and they can also check their bloody timetable on the Intranet too, we are talking about information overload here. This is a university not a kindergarten, at least that’s what I think!’

  ‘Come on now. Don’t you think you are overreacting? We need to keep them happy.’

  ‘Look, he is not a new student. He is supposed to have finished his studies by now. This is his bloody last semester and if he cannot find the timetable he doesn’t deserve to get a degree.’

  ‘Wait a minute now. You are going too far. He is your tutee and we cannot afford to be complacent. What harm does it do you to give him the dates?’

  ‘Look, I have loads of work to do. This mundane thing has taken too much of my time and yours it seems.’

  ‘I have to go now; I’ll miss my 6:35 train. I will send him to you. OK?’ Michael said.

  ‘Not OK! I have already made myself clear on this.’

  I see that I am shaking. I haven’t been angry for some time. And now, this nincompoop is affecting my circulation. I remember myself as a student. I cannot remember a single case of talking to my tutor on any issue with mundane demands. He would ask me in the corridor, ‘all OK David?’ and my answer was always positive. Not that I didn’t have problems. They were either too personal as I considered them at the time or they were not important enough to be mentioned.

  I asked myself, ‘am I feeling sorry for myself yet again?’ Why am I doing this? So what if a student has silly demands? Michael is right. Give the brute the blooming timetable and get rid of him. What is this sense of righteousness? I am here to lecture on science not on codes of behaviour, not on how mature one should be! After all look at Carol’s behaviour. She is sitting in my bedroom, where I always avoid inviting permanent residence, and is having her nails varnished after a protest departure! And what was my role in all this? Now I have to live with the saga of a messy relationship.

  There is a knock at the door. It is Richard with a triumphant look in h
is eyes: ‘Dr. Michael told me to come and see you. He said it will be OK.’

  Only a minute ago, I had convinced myself to give the brute the timetable. But now I just couldn’t. As if my whole being was invaded. I looked at him with complete ignorance.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Oh! I thought you knew. It is about the exam timetable.’

  ‘I think I made it quite clear for you. I have other priorities. If you cannot get yourself organised for your exams, and this is your final semester, then you have a problem. Now I have other things to do, OK?’

  ‘But...’

  ‘No buts, all the information you need is provided for you in different ways, you just waste your time and mine here.’

  It was evening when he left the room. I could hear the door to other rooms closing as others left their offices along the long corridor.

  I worked for another hour. I printed the module report and left it in Michael’s pigeon-hole. I also e-mailed him a copy. Then I left my office.

  Should I buy some stuff from the supermarket? My plan was to go to the small bistro on the corner near my flat. They make delicious soups. This was something I had missed since I started going out with Carol. We went there once together and she hated the place. Anita, the Polish waitress there, didn’t like her either. I thought they had a mutual agreement not to like each other. This, however, created a problem for me. Now, I was looking forward to going to the place in the corner for their soup. But it wasn’t to be. I was going to meet the big red suitcases in the middle of my bedroom. And as for the soup, Carol had other ideas.

  6

  Outside, the air was fresh; a sharp breeze was blowing with intermittent drizzle. As I passed the corner near my flat, I saw Anita serving the only occupied table in the bistro. There were three men at the table. The light in the café was pale white as usual. I moved fast to get to the flat, I was feeling cold and the drizzle was changing to a persistent but light rain.

  Getting to the flat I could hear loud music from outside. I opened the door. Carol shouted from the bedroom: ‘I am in here!’

  ‘So how are you?’ I turned the volume down.

  ‘More to the point, are you feeling better?’

  ‘Not really. My throat is not doing well and I have a headache.’

  ‘It’s the shock of me leaving, come here, you will feel much better.’

  She was lying on the bed wearing my bathrobe.

  ‘I need to have a soup or something, had a long day.’ I stood by the bed.

  ‘You are underestimating yourself, come over.’

  ‘Really, I am not in the right mood.’

  ‘What’s happened? Is this the way to show your excitement for my return? Show some appreciation!’

  ‘Listen, now is not the time for it. Can we get something to eat?’

  ‘I will be ready in a second.’

  She dropped the robe.

  ‘We can go to the ‘Matches’. We should celebrate my coming back, don’t you think?’

  This was an expensive restaurant the other side of town. I did not say anything.

  ‘Don’t say you are tired! Don’t be a bore.’

  ‘Have you told your mother you are not on the plane?’

  ‘Oh yes, what do you think? You want her to give me a roasting from there? As soon as I came in I phoned. You don’t mind do you? I phoned her on her getting ready to go to the airport. She was so disappointed. Thank God I have someone who cares for me.’

  ‘Did she ask you why you are not going?’

  ‘No! She is so wise. She understands me. She knows I am not a bore. After all, she knows that if I do something, there is a reason for it.’

  ‘And what might that be?’

  ‘If you can’t say, I am not going to tell you.’ She was still naked, throwing dresses out of her suitcase.’

  ‘No, I cannot say. Actually I am baffled.’

  ‘I take it as a compliment. You find me an enigma!’

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be a compliment.’

  ‘For me it was! You are such a negative man. I do not know why I returned. I am trying my best here and look how you respond. I might as well pack up and go.’

  I smiled. She was wearing a thin yellow and green dress now.

  ‘Listen, it was your decision to leave and it was you who decided to return. I had nothing to do with it. Now, if you want to go, again, it is your decision.’

  ‘Come on darling! Do not be so confrontational towards a good guest. I promise not to stay in your flat a minute longer than necessary. I start looking for a place as from tomorrow.’

  ‘The flat you left might be still available!’

  ‘Oh! Don’t pretend you want me to stay! Who wants to go to that dump of a place? I might as well leave town!’

  I had taken two days off to find that flat for her.

  ‘Let’s go. It is getting late and I have another long day tomorrow,’ I said.

  ‘I am all yours.’ She smelled nice, I could sense it despite my cold. She came close.

  ‘You’ll catch my cold.’

  ‘Do you think that can stop me? I have cancelled my departure to be with you!’

  My hand was in my pocket. I felt Kate’s letter.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You don’t believe me? I will prove it to you!’

  ‘All I need now is to eat.’

  We went out. The rain had stopped. The roads were shining cold under the lights. We were in the restaurant in half an hour, I was happy with the taxi driver going fast.

  We spoke little during the dinner. I think she gave up on me conversing with her. The soup was lukewarm; something I don’t like even in my best mood. Now my neck was stiff too and I was angry with myself, repeating the question in my mind: ‘why did you come out? You could be in bed sleeping.’ But I knew the answer. Coming out with her was the only way to avoid her. She was quite happy with her dinner which she finished with appetite. She had a good chat with the young waiter who was more than happy to please.

  ‘Madam, you might care to taste our warm Crème Brulée with raspberries.’

  I wondered where they had got fresh raspberries from and I thought of how to take myself out of bed to work tomorrow. I started thinking about the items that I had to deal with and this didn’t help my headache. ‘Where are you?’ she asked. ‘Don’t be such a wimp. After all it is just a cold. You’ve always been a hypochondriac.’ I was just going to say, ‘how well you have got to know me in such a short time,’ but I successfully shut myself up. As we started to leave the waiter rushed to us and accompanied us to the door. He opened the door with a smile:

  ‘Hope to see you soon,’ he said looking at me.

  ‘He is too busy,’ Carole said, ‘but of course I will do my best to convince him.’ She smiled at him.

  In the taxi I was grateful to the driver for talking to her about his flat in the south of Spain somewhere, I was half asleep all the way. I wondered what energy taxi drivers have. To drive all day or night in all sorts of weather dealing with all sorts of customers and still have time to talk with them from the other side of the separating glass. They usually assume a certain posture to talk and see the passenger at the same time. But then, there are only special types of customers they talk to. I am sure he wouldn’t even think of talking to me. I had dozed off with the background voice of the driver when we came to a halt.

  ‘Have a good night Madame.’

  I opened my eyes and rushed some money into his hands. I thought I would go out like a light as soon as I got to the bed. But in the bed I just couldn’t go to sleep. It wasn’t that her soft skin was touching me, it was as if I was lonely in a far away island. I knew I had a fever but it didn’t bother me. I was thinking of tomorrow and the load of things that needed to be done. Then I remembered the envelope in my pocket. I felt as if I had forgotten an important appointment. I wanted to be left alone. That way I wouldn’t feel lonely. But now, there was no such chance. I coughed.

  ‘Don’t
touch the railings. How many times must I tell you not to touch the railings? Can’t you see all these patients with all sorts of diseases touching them?’

  My mother was all over me whenever I had a cold. And my cold always lingered, would grow into bronchitis. Then of course it had to be the danger of tuberculosis in her mind.

  ‘Doctor, please tell me the truth. Is this child going to survive? Maybe he has tuberculosis, that is why he is coughing all the time. Why don’t doctors tell us the truth? I can handle it. I can live with it. Just tell me what is wrong with this child.’

  Then she would start crying.

  ‘This is the story of my life. Look at me. I have spent all my youth on this child; ill all the time. What sin have I committed to deserve this? Do you want some juice? I can make it with grated apple for you. Have it. It is good for you.’

  Carol’s skin is soft and smells nice. She always sleeps naked. I can hear her deep breathing. I ask myself why I don’t desire her. I answer back, ‘don’t be silly; in this state?’ But I am not convinced with my answer.

  It was an interrupted sleep. I woke up several times and each time I felt something was wrong with me: my throat, my head, my whole body. But when I eventually tried to get up there was a ray of sunshine coming in. It was 11 a.m. I still had a splitting headache and could not breathe well. Carol had gone with all her stuff spread around the flat. I had to make a phone call to the department. Michael was on answer machine. So I contacted the secretary and told her I had flu and couldn’t go to the office, had no lectures so no urgent arrangements were needed. She said Michael was looking for me earlier. I told her with the state that I was in I wasn’t sure when I would be in next.

  The CD player was left on from yesterday. I put on a calm CD and sat on the chair. I had a picture on the wall in front of me: a child walking on a narrow dry country road with his head turned looking back. I hadn’t looked at the picture since I had hung it. Kate and I had brought it together on one of the rare occasions when we spent the whole day together having an early lunch, going from bookshop to bookshop, talking over afternoon coffee and watching a movie that we both liked.