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Paris, Tea, and a Fight

Day 14
Prompt : "I wanted to fight. He wanted to finish his tea."


She breathed in the aromatic scents wafting around her. The coffee brewing within the cafe. The crisp morning air. The flowers blossoming in boxes that hung from the railing. The beginnings of exhaust mingling into the otherwise clean breeze.
She sipped on her espresso and peered off into the distance. Glinting with the rising sun loomed the Eiffle Tower on the horizon. Paris had been her calling for years, and she finally was able to escape away and explore the gem of the city, unburdened with university.
Her study abroad semester in Madrid, Spain made her feel isolated, shackled to her books, and unable to venture out into the unknown. She booked this trip as her graduation gift to herself. Her only regret was that this was her last day of a 3-week excursion.
She beckoned for another cup of coffee. 
Her plane didn’t leave until evening, so she had no intention of bustling about. She would take her day minute by minute, slowly making her way to the airport. She wanted to be dragged to the airport, enjoying every moment in between. 
The chatter of the cafe was a distant hum as she glanced around, looking at the people who absently chose to be her cafe companions for the morning. It was the usual mixture of tourists, locals, and tourists trying to be locals. She could instantly tell who was whom.
Except for this one individual tucked way in the corner of the room, contently isolated from the commotion of the day. He sipped on his tea with ginger anchored like a sunken vessel at the bottom of an amber sea. Eyes closed, he sniffed the tendrils of steam rising from his cup.
He sat there, free of the anxiety of needing to see everything like a tourist, but he also seemed to appreciate this city as a newly found wonder. He appeared out of place yet exactly where he was supposed to be. As if this was his home away from home.
An erupting argument tore her attention away from the man of mystery. Chairs were knocked back. A glass shattered at the man’s feet, yet he sat there, enjoying his ginger tea, lost at sea.
Rising instantly to her feet, she approached the table, worried the mysterious man might receive an elbow to the eye as an unintended consequence to the squabble. Before she could intercede, a cafe host urgently ushered the bickering individuals out of the establishment.
She bent down near the man and picked up large shards of glass by his foot. He looked at her with energetic eyes. “Crazy morning, huh?” He gestured for her to sit.
“One of the craziest. Usually I don’t have to deal with loud tourists until after lunch.” She chuckled and watched as a server picked up the wreckage of the quarrel and returned to his dance as a cafe waiter, weaving from table to table with trays of tea or coffee.
“Do you live around here?” The man’s question reeled her back into the moment.
“Actually, I am just visiting. I leave tonight.”
“Funny. I could have pegged you for a local. But I, too, return to my own country tonight. It’s been a great month, but it is time for me to head on back.”
“Well, it looks like we’re in it together. Want to discover what last gifts Paris has to offer before we trudge back home, wherever that is?” She lifted her hand to beckon the waiter without waiting for a response. She ordered herself another coffee and winked at the man still enjoying his tea.
“Sounds like fun,” he said, losing himself in her ginger eyes.
* * *
My eyes gazed at the Eiffel Tower, just as serene as it was that day 50 years ago. I sipped on my third cup of coffee as I tuned by ears back to the chatter of the table around me. Across from me sat my two beautiful grandchildren, bewildered by the majesty of the city.
My husband squeezed my forearm and smiled at me. He still sniffed at his tea, enjoying every moment of the morning he was given. I drank from my coffee cup, breathing in the excitement of the day.
“I wanted to stand and fight, “ I told the kids, who had been listening to their mother tell them the story of my last day in Paris decades ago. “He just wanted to finish his tea.”
“And I’m so thankful she didn’t actually join in the fight, because otherwise I would have never had my first cup of tea with this beautiful woman,” he said, setting down his tea cup and planting a kiss on my forehead. “No wonder in Paris is as magnificent as your grandmother.”

- (c) 2020 Kevin Barrick

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Comments

  1. IngridJanuary 17, 2020 at 1:43 AM

    Nice story !

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Kevin BarrickJanuary 17, 2020 at 4:17 AM

      Thank you for visiting! I appreciate your kind words. Please feel free to subscribe or follow this blog to get updated when new stories are posted. :)

      Delete
  2. Faisal RehmanApril 30, 2020 at 11:11 AM

    the title is really cool :D

    ReplyDelete

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