Between Cups of Coffee

by Tajalli Keshavarz

  I slowed down. The thoughts had stopped as if I had accepted that I, or whatever was left of me, was now lying down in that ambulance. There was no sentence in me any longer, there was no repetition. And the rain had stopped. I walked down slowly to my flat. On the way someone said hello, I didn’t stop. He called me by my name. I looked back. It was a young boy. I suppose, one of my students. I arrived at the flat, put the key in the lock but did not have the drive to turn it. I stood there for a couple of minutes. Then I turned the key. I went straight to the sofa and dropped my body on it. Sitting there, I looked around. I saw Kate’s book, I remembered the thin paper inside it. I tried to remember it. I had a good feeling thinking about it but I couldn’t remember the contents. Then I closed my eyes.

  52

  I woke up with a knock at the door. At first I wasn’t sure where I was. Then I thought I was in the hotel at the conference. It was a good feeling but then I realised I had slept on the sofa. I was at home. I was very slow. There was another knock at the door. I couldn’t understand what was going on, what time of the night or the day it was. I turned the light on. It was 3 a.m. I went to the door. It was Anita with a pale face. ‘Please help me.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  She was incomprehensible; uttering some words I couldn’t make out. ‘Listen, just calm down. Tell me what the matter is.’

  ‘It’s Hanna. I have called the ambulance.’

  We rushed to her flat above the bistro. The street was completely quiet, only the sound of our footsteps. As we arrived at the door next to the bistro, the ambulance arrived too. The paramedics went in carrying gadgets and I followed them up the steps. Then we went into Hanna’s room on the right of a small landing. Hanna’s face was pale, her eyes closed and one hand had fallen out of the bed; no movement. Anita was standing next to her motionless, looking at the bed. I wasn’t sure what to do. I tried to get close to her but at the same time the paramedics moved and transferred Hanna to the stretcher; they acted fast but calmly.

  The hospital was empty. I was surprised. I always had the idea that the emergency wards were crowded with people rushing around. It was nothing like that. Paramedics talked to a nurse and the stretcher disappeared into a corridor at the back of a long waiting room. Anita followed them but came out soon. ‘They didn’t let me stay.’

  ‘It will be OK,’ I said.

  ‘No. How can it be OK? It is already bad.’

  ‘But things have changed since our time. They can do a lot nowadays.’ I noticed I had used the plural, which I shouldn’t have.

  ‘Nothing has changed; people still die even of simple diseases, don’t they?’

  I couldn’t say anything. I felt incompetent.

  ‘But tell me what happened?’

  She did not answer. She walked to the door and back. The rows of metal chairs in the waiting-room were empty. There was a vending machine at one end.

  ‘Look, we have to wait. So, it’s better if we sit and talk. At least our minds will be busy talking,’ I said.

  She sat on a chair in the front row. I bought two coffees from the machine.

  ‘Perhaps it is better to go out?’

  She didn’t say anything, just stood up. We went out of the waiting room. The door opened onto a car park. It was starting to lighten up. There was a cool breeze.

  ‘Listen, she will be fine. You will see. In a couple of hours you will be laughing. Once things have gone back to normal, perhaps we can take her to a play, keep her busy with things to do.’

  ‘She has lots of things to do. I just wonder why she did this. Was he that important to her? It was my fault. I should have known better. But I was just hoping... Just hoping.’

  She did not have the coffee. She left it on the concrete edge and said:

  ‘Let’s go in.’

  We went in but there was no sign of the nurse. Then a car drove close with a fast braking noise. Two men came in, a third one with blood coming out of his face somewhere near his eyes. A nurse appeared as if from nowhere. At the same time another car stopped and a man and a woman with a child came in. A boy of six or seven was in his father’s arms. He was pale and I could see he was suffering. Anita was walking in short steps in the waiting-room. I took her hand and we sat on the metal chairs.

  ‘Is Poland like this? I mean how do they deal with emergency cases in hospitals?’ I tried to divert her attention.

  She looked at me as if I was stupid.

  ‘I have heard the medical service there is excellent,’ I said.

  ‘If we were there, this wouldn’t have happened to us to need to go to the hospital,’ she said.

  ‘But listen, you can’t make hypothetical cases. You are here and this thing has happened.’

  Then I noticed that I had been harsh. My last night’s thoughts came back to me. I stopped talking. I thought a long time had passed. The sun was out now, just.

  Then she said, ‘thank you for coming with me. Please go now.’

  ‘Not at all. I will stay to organise taking her back. I suppose by lunch time everything will be OK.’

  She started walking about again. Now I was getting worried. I knew that they had to do their job, but we were left in the dark for three hours. I went to the nurse who was moving fast. ‘Sorry, could you tell me what’s the situation with the young girl, Hanna, we brought her in some while ago?’

  I couldn’t be sure if she knew anything about this. I thought she must know; only three patients had come in during the night and she had been here all the time. But she looked very distant.

  ‘I will check and let you know,’ she said, and disappeared behind the door.

  ‘It is impossible, what a shame,’ said Anita.

  We waited for another two hours. It was nearly the mid-day when a thin young doctor came out. He had faint blue eyes with thin golden-framed spectacles. He asked for Anita.

  ‘We have done all we could and hope that the danger is past,’ he said

  Anita interrupted him. ‘What do you mean you hope? How is she?’

  The doctor could not be interrupted. He had a monotonous but considerate voice.

  ‘Your daughter was in a very critical state. All I can say at the moment is that we have removed the poison from her body. She is detoxified. It has had some effects obviously. We will observe her closely. She is in a coma and we hope that she will come out soon. We have transferred her to the ward.’

  Anita was silent. She was suddenly calm. ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Yes of course, but you won’t be able to communicate with her. You will need to be patient. We hope she will come round soon.’

  ‘What are the chances?’ I asked.

  ‘It is difficult to say. We will do all we can; such a nice young girl. We will do further tests.’

  We had to wait some more and Anita filled in some forms. Then we took the lift to the fourth floor. We passed through a silent corridor with the smell of antiseptic and overnight human smells. A nurse took us to her. Hanna was lying on a bed with tubes hanging from her and a curtain on the other side of the bed, a small cubicle. You could hear noises from other curtained spaces around it. Hanna’s eyes were closed and her face was like a mask. Anita stood there but did not go close, did not touch her, just stood there. I took her hands. They were very cold.

  ‘It is good that the danger has passed,’ I said.

  She ignored me. As we were going down she said again:

  ‘What a shame.’

  Then we came out. It was noon. I kept my eye open for a restaurant. Walking for ten minutes in silence, we arrived at a small local Italian.

  ‘You must eat something,’ I said, ‘you have been under pressure. You must take care of yourself to face this.’

  ‘I am not hungry.’

  ‘But you must eat.’

  I practically pushed her in. It was a silent lunch. I did try to talk about the conference but it was very irrelevant. Even at the right time it would have been irrelevant. Then she started talking. She talked
about her husband.

  ‘He was a handsome man. We had a couple of good years together, but he couldn’t be a husband, a father. So I took Hanna and came here. I wanted to be as far away from him as I could. I wanted both of us to be as far away as possible. Now I don’t know where he is to tell him about her.’

  ‘Do you have to?’

  ‘He is her father. He might want to know.’

  ‘Has he been in touch?’

  ‘No, but it doesn’t mean...’

  ‘It means something. You have spent all your time with Hanna and he hasn’t contacted you even once, this should mean something.’

  ‘I don’t know. What a shame. I don’t think…she will come back.’

  She said this with a melancholic voice. Still there were no tears.

  ‘You mustn’t let despair get to you. Give it a bit of time, it is only few hours. There is a very good chance...’

  ‘Of what? She is damaged. Even if she comes back, she is damaged for life; and for what? For someone we didn’t even know properly. I should have managed the shop myself.’

  ‘You must think positively. OK, she is ill now, but you have a shop to run. You must be positive.’

  Then, for the first time, I thought that she saw the gravity of the situation. She turned her face away. Hanna wasn’t there to help and she didn’t have anyone else.

  ‘I don’t think I can do it.’

  ‘Yes you can. I will help you find someone. Just be positive. Don’t let it get to you.’

  We came out after a short lunch but I didn’t want to leave her alone. I suggested to her she might come to my place to rest and have some tea.

  ‘No thanks. I need to be alone. I need to take a shower.’

  ‘Then I will come and see you later.’

  ‘Yes.’

  We said goodbye and I waited for her to get into her flat above the bistro, then I went home. The sun was shining in. There was little noise from the outside. I fell on the sofa and slept.

  53

  It was the start of the term and the corridors were full of new and continuing students moving about to see their tutors, organise their studies, enrol, register and get inducted into the system. It was cloudy outside as I went into my office. On my way to the university I stopped at Anita’s place. There were a couple of customers eating their breakfast. She was cleaning the tables and the chairs, and moving the things around. She had her hair tied back and was working fast and seriously.

  ‘Hello. I can see that you are getting ready for the rush,’ I said.

  ‘Yes. I am going to the hospital later. Burt is coming soon.’

  Together we had found Burt, a middle-aged, out-of-work man to help her. He was calm and had a good composure. The sort of person you trust.

  ‘Any news on Hanna?’

  ‘No. As time goes by they say it becomes less likely she will come back.’

  ‘Yes but there are exceptions.’

  ‘Yes I know.’ She was dismissive and abrupt.

  ‘I am off now, shall see you later.’

  ‘Yes.’ She had a distant smile.

  On my way to the office, I thought to call Elizabeth. I hadn’t seen her since Kate’s remembrance day. When I called her, she seemed very busy but was accommodating.

  ‘Oh, hi David, how was your holiday?’

  ‘OK I suppose. How was yours?’

  ‘Fine, needed it. We went to the Canary Islands, loved it. What can I do for you? It is mayhem here,’ she said.

  ‘I know, I am sorry to bother you at this time. It is just that I wondered if you could give me Kate’s address, you know some details to find her, I mean the cemetery?’

  There was a pause. ‘Yes, actually I have it. I’ll get all the details and let you know as soon as I can get a respite from the invasion.’

  ‘Thanks Elizabeth.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Since I had come back from the conference I had wanted to do this but hadn’t done it. Kate had gone away. Why would I need to go there? I didn’t see her in her last days in skin and flesh, now I wanted to go to the cemetery for what? To console myself? To portray a considerate, compassionate picture of myself? And to whom? To her? It would have been a great case for discussion with her I am sure, this topic of compassion. Now, how would I relate with a decomposed body? ‘Listen, I am here to discuss with you my dilemma. Yes, my dilemma and it is about you. I don’t think that anyone has occupied my mind so much. Why? I don’t know! You tell me. I just want to share with you my thoughts that’s all but this time, no coffee. Just dry thoughts.’

  54

  I worked well that day. It was early in the term but it felt like end of the term. I felt the weight of a semester’s work. I hadn’t managed to organise the paperwork that needed to be filed in yet. When I came out of the office, it was getting dark and it had started to drizzle. I went to the bar near the office and had a large whisky, then I walked for some distance before I got on the bus. The bistro was crowded. I went in and sat at a table in the corner. It seemed that this table with one chair was my usual place now. It was part of my flat! Burt came over. ‘Nice to see you David! A drink first?’

  ‘Yes, why not. Just a whisky please Burt.’

  ‘Of course.’ And he went to the kitchen.

  Then I saw Anita. She had the same dress she had worn in the morning. Her face was pale. She came over, took a chair from the table near me and sat across the table.

  ‘How was she?’

  ‘The same.’

  There was silence. ‘They say you never know. I never knew anything anyway! I shouldn’t have brought that boy in. I thought I was doing the right thing. But who knows? When I left Piotr and Poland, I thought I was doing the right thing. What was right about any of the things I have done? And now, I don’t know what to do. I wanted to sell this place and go back, then that boy appeared and I thought maybe I should stay. Now there is no reason to stay but I can’t leave with Hanna in this state can I?’

  ‘You shouldn’t think like that. If you do then everything is wrong, then whatever we do is wrong, one can find mistakes in every action.’

  ‘But look at me. What is my choice?’

  ‘Do you really want to leave? To sell this place? You are doing so well and people love you here.’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more. I didn’t know anything anyway.’

  ‘It is a difficult time for you but you shouldn’t whip yourself like this,’ I said.

  ‘What if this situation continues like it is? What if she doesn’t come back?’

  ‘This we don’t know and precisely for that we shouldn’t speculate. The only effect of your thinking would be to pull us down. You must look at things positively.’

  ‘I don’t know David. I don’t know. I have to go.’

  She stood up and produced a dry smile. Then she went to the kitchen.

  55

  It was a Saturday. I woke up around 8, shaved, took a shower, had a coffee and a well-browned slice of toast and went out. I was in no hurry but I wasn’t concentrating on anything special either. My mind was in a state of its own, somewhere unknown but nowhere special. I was walking in a haze. I took the bus that came in ten minutes; I got off one stop before the last to take another one. I had to wait for the second bus for half an hour. Then there was a long drive; first the tall buildings went, then the provincial shops, the dress shops with long thin flower-patterned dresses and shoe shops with long lasting shoes and the odd hardware shop. Then the bus passed by rows of lanes in parallel with identical terraced houses with green and blue coloured doors. Then it went towards the suburbs. I got off at a stop isolated from any buildings. There was a large lawn like a football ground but through the lawn I could see the foot path made by footsteps passing over and over the same route. There was a partially eroded sign written in black over a corroded white background saying ‘Cemetery.’ It was sunny and as I got closer, I saw a large metal gate by which the footpath ended. It was just past eleven in
the morning. The cemetery was quiet. I could see an old couple kneeling next to a fenced grave. There was a picture of a young man in uniform inside the fence. Further away, there was a young woman standing under a large chestnut tree. There were several old trees spread in a pattern in the grounds. Then I saw an old man with curved back and a large nylon bag, walking through the narrow space between the gravestones slowly but firmly. I walked far behind him. He stopped by a grave, paused for a minute and ran his fingers through his thin but tidy hair. Then he opened the bag, took out a small broom and began slowly cleaning the small area around the grave, starting with the stone, very meticulously pushing the broom threads through the stone carving then the ground surrounding the stone. He paused every now and then and continued for some time. Then he took out three bottles of water and some flowers. He replaced the flowers in the vase which was firmly placed at the bottom of the stone. He emptied the bottles over the stone, pouring the water slowly. The black stone was shining under the sun now. Then he put all the rubbish, the drooped flowers, the broom and the water bottles systematically in the nylon bag. He placed the bag in a corner and stood there solidly with no movements. He stayed motionless as if he would never leave. But then slowly as he had come, he took the bag and walked away.

  I took a piece of paper out of my pocket. I had written on it, plot 63x238 east. I thought it was like a long-term parking ticket. Do not lose it! I passed through older graves and came to an area where the stones were new and the flower pots were not chipped and had fresh flowers in them. And then, there it was, a small white stone with some words on it, only stating the name, the date of birth and the date of death. There was no clever sentence and no poetry, there were no words of endearment and there was no flowerpot. I walked around the small plot in a circle. I wondered what she would have liked to be written for her. A sentence from Nietzsche? I thought that perhaps she didn’t want to be buried at all; that she would have preferred to be cremated. Then perhaps I could have some ashes in my library next to her notebook. My mind was again somewhere else, somewhere unfamiliar for me and I couldn’t place it. I made a move to go back. It had clouded over and there was a cool breeze.