#10 TELL ME NOW WHAT YOU SEE
Mia never slowed down. That was the impression he got after some meetings with her. She wasn’t a control freak, but she was always perfectly prepared, quick and she never stayed longer than it took her drinking up a cup of tea. She preferred fruit tea. For a long time this was almost the only information he got about her. Most of the times she was drinking raspberry and vanilla or cherry-banana tea. The tea always smelt great and she also had a kind of fruity fragrance about her. It was hard to define, but present: something like a mix of flower power and juice essence.
He never had the opportunity to ask anything else than how the work was and sometimes they talked about the translation’s topic and he noticed that she was passionate about history. Then one day he had the chance to spend more time with ther than just a silly cup of tea.
It was already December, shortly before Christmas. The days were so short you couldn't even notice them and there was no snow. Instead, the days were rainy and cold with long periods of darkness. People in the streets were very moody. Some were happy because of upcoming Christmas and some were frustrated because of Christmas presents and the stress that comes with buying them. It was one of these days, when they would meet and as always he was waiting for her in the teahouse. For the first time she was late. He didn't expect time to pass so slowly. For the sake of not having to think, he started asking unimportant questions to the waitress.
She gladly talked about some parties and people you have to know. He knew already too much people and he had never been a fan of big parties. Sebastian preferred to celebrate in a small group, with real friends who knew him instead of acquaintances. Then the waitress mentioned she had seen Anna here more often.
-She comes here not only to meet you. She is here almost every second day; she drinks a cup of tea or two, or even three, she eats some cookies and then she is leaving again. She is always very polite, quiet and you don't really notice she is here. And she reads a lot. Sometimes she writes something down, but mostly she reads. She reads different books. She always brings new things: Proust, Camus, Baricco or d'Annunzio. She’s a little strange. She’s nice, she’s polite, she’s unproblematic, but zou get the feeling there is something else about her you want to know. But it is impossible to get in contact with her.
In this moment, the door opened and there she stood. Usually she was smiling, but now the smile on her face wasn't real. It was as if someone had glued it onto her lips. Her eyes were not alive. She came in and sat down at “her” table. She noticed Sebastian, but she didn't say anything. He went to her and looked at her. He stood there for a while gaping at her and she sat there without looking at anything. Finally, he ordered some tea and sat down at the other side of the table. She didn't touch the cup. He finished his tea alone and she didn't even move. Minutes passed by and he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to disturb her, at the same time he wanted to know what was happening.
-Are you ok?
She nodded. She didn't say a word and was thinking intensively. Her lip was trembling a little, her eyes were empty and her hair fell down on her face. He said she should go with him. It was already late and the teahouse was about to be closed. She was really late. She nodded without giving an impression of knowing what she was doing. He took her hand and led her outside to his car. She just followed him like a dog follows his master. She took a seat in his car without any reaction, without any resistance. She just sat there. He hadn't got a plan. He didn't know what he was doing. It was so weird.
He wasn't aware they had arrived in front of his apartment. He opened the door and she entered. Sebastian helped her to take off her jacket and took her to the kitchen. She sat down on a chair, starring at the table.
-Do you want to drink something?
She didn't answer. Sebastian looked at her face and couldn't find anything. Was she suffering? Why was she so strange? What was happening?
Lovefool (Introduction) Page 11