Impromptu

Unfulfilled Dreams and Unexpected Encounters.

Light chatter sprinkled around the trailblazing Restaurant Amador which positioned itself near the well known Beethoven museum in Vienna. Tenuous chandeliers with a plan of concentric diamonds that ran through the length of the restaurant projected yellow lights as they bounced frivolously on the concave brick plafond giving the location a soft golden glow. 

There was a soft hum of music in the background which couldn’t be determined easily unless one gave full attention to it. And there was the soft rattle of cutlery hitting each other as people devoured every meal with sophistication and poise. 

Amidst the calm atmosphere, a man in his late 20s was restless from inside as he dined with a client who was going to hand him over his dream project. 

Anwar Yousuf, an ardent architect, gave a detailed explanation about the methods and plans his firm had put forward for Mr. Carlson. He tossed in technical terms and then simplified them so that his client could comprehend. His expressions were animate and his eyes held a glow that seemed brighter than the restaurant. 

But as an observant man, his glow diminished a little when he noticed a hesitant smile on his clients face. 

“Is something wrong Mr. Carlson?” He inquired and reached to pick up his glass and take a sip of the complimentary wine. 

It took Mr. Carlson by surprise and he timidly regained his composure as he cleared his throat to begin, “Well, it is no doubt that you’re a smart man Mr. Yousuf but uh....” 

The uncertainty in the sentence forced his small smile to fade away and Anwar was left confused. 

“.... I will indeed contact you in the near future when required.” Mr. Carlson nibbled on his passion fruit and spinach before he continued, “Oh and the food is on me. Order what you like.” He finished with a trace of guilt coating his tone. 

Anwar doesn’t apprehend the subtle indications and looks at his client with disbelief, “I am well aware of the importance of this project for you and your firm.” He leans forward and continues, “I know the deal was non-negotiable as stated by my senior but I am willing to make any amendments required.” 

”You see Mr. Yousuf,” Mr. Carlson hesitated, “The contract is written and so it is, well,” he paused and searched for an appropriate word,” “Tangible yes. They cannot be easily changed but I also appreciate your flexibility despite what the deal is based on.” 

His forehead was glistening with sweat droplets which made him pick up the face towelette from the table to wipe them away. But when he still noticed Anwar’s ambiguous expression, he decided to let out the truth in one go. 

“My firm came across another potential company and don’t get me wrong your team has potential as well, but they meet our requirements and give us a latitude to make necessary alterations even in between the project.” 

As soon as the words were out, Anwar eventually realised that no matter how many sentences he might string together in favour of his firm, his client was resolute with the decision. 

He didn’t say a word as he polished his glass of wine. Mr. Carlson, a man in his late 40s with a receding hairline absolutely abominated the idea of his firm to send him and reveal their withdrawal from the project that they sealed with Anwar and his team. 

“Mr. Carlson.” Still a professional in the downfall of his meetings, Anwar shook hands with his now ex-client and paced hurriedly out of the restaurant. 

                                    •   •   •

 What went wrong? 

A desolated Anwar walked around the streets aimlessly as his line of thought was directed to what he could have possibly said which made his client decline the deal. 

His thoughts had blurred his consciousness and he didn’t realise where he was going. Working in Vienna had been his dream as far as he could remember. His admiration for its infrastructure and design had made him come all the way from London. 

I had high expectations. It’s my fault. I didn’t prepare myself for the worst. 

A few steps ahead of him was a bus which was being boarded by excited and eager tourists. Each of them carried a set of supplies, tickets and itineraries and were engrossed in elevated conversations. 

Lost in thought and a blurred sense of perception of his surroundings made Anwar climb onto the bus. He didn’t know where it would take him but that was not his prime concern. 

All the energetic voices around him were muffled and distant as the vehicle set in motion. His lack of success was crowding around his mind and his environment was blocked like it didn’t exist.

It was only when he felt a tap on the shoulder did he jerk out from his thoughts and looked at the person calling him. 

“Excuse me, Mister?” 

A young woman with bright green eyes and a polite smile on her face patiently waited for Anwar to respond. 

After breaking from the trance which consumed him, Anwar was lost as he looked around. 

“Where am I?” He muttered to himself. 

“Were you present during the orientation?” She didn’t seem to have heard his question and asked her own. 

“Orientation?”

“The one that took place a week ago.” She stopped and studied him for awhile , “I remember the full list of names with their photos who applied for this tour. But I can’t recall yours.” 

“Oh I—“ 

“Oh my God!” She cut him off and cupped her hand over her mouth in excitement, “Are you Sheila’s boyfriend who is filling up for her?” 

“Who the f**k—“ 

“She did tell me that she won’t be able to come.” She added with a hint of disappointment but brushed it off. “But it’s good to see you George. I’m Emilia Johnson, your tourist guide for today.” She beamed at him and extended her hand which Anwar reluctantly shook. “Today is your lucky day, you’ll know about Vienna, the monuments everything!” She exclaimed as her gaze was in awe and in a far off distance. 

She shook her head and looked back at him, “Well buckle up George you’re going to be thrilled.” 

“Listen lady—“

“Don’t thank me just yet!” She smiled at him for one last time and trotted to the front of the bus, leaving Anwar in a state of daze and bewilderment. 

Realising there has been a misunderstanding, Anwar promptly stood up from his seat. As he took a step towards the lady who had mistaken him for another man, the vehicle turned swiftly making him fall on the vacant seat next to him, scraping his elbow. 

“Ow!” Anwar exclaimed, rubbing his scrapped elbow, with his stoic expression still intact. 

“Are you alright?” Emilia turned around to look at the injured man, and advanced towards him. 

“Yes, thank you, I am fine but there has been a misunder-“ Anwar was cut off by a croaky voice. “Right turn, hold on!” The bus driver alerted his passengers. 

Before either of the duo could comprehend the cautious words of the driver, the bus took an acute turn, which caused Emilia to lose balance. Instinctively, Anwar grabbed onto her waist, before she could completely slip on him. With her face only inches away from his, he noticed the tiny unnoticeable-from-afar freckles on her skin. The green in her eyes looked so alluring and pleasing, he felt a sense of hypnosis. 

The bewitchment got broken when Emilia had a realisation;  she straightened herself up and walked in a daze towards the front of the bus. Bringing herself to composure, she cleared her throat and addressed the passengers with a smile. 

“Greetings! You all have already been briefed about the tour and all the places we’ll be visiting, in the orientation earlier where all of you were handed an itinerary each,” She paused for a moment to pull out a small booklet, “get your itineraries out everyone.” 

“So the first monument we’ll be visiting for today is,” She says flipping through a page, “the Schönbrunn Palace!” and shuts the booklet close. 

“Let’s get going everyone!” She announced as the bus halted to a stop. 

                                    •   •   •

“Whoa! Did this place really turn from a hunting lodge into this?” A boy with spectacles asked in astonishment as he entered one of the romantic-looking, newly-renovated White and Gold rooms. 

“Yeah, it really did.” Emilia reassured him. 

“The type of architecture used here is a very popular one. So much so, that this palace is actually known for its architecture.” She addressed the group of tourists, who were busy admiring the place and did not really bother to listen. 

A curious Anwar got fully engaged upon hearing the term ‘architecture’ and made his way towards the guide. 

“What type of architecture is used?” The spectacled guy was no less of a curious one himself. With gleaming eyes, Anwar parted his lips as if he were to end the curiosity of the younger man. 

“Oh it’s Brokay, the type of architecture used.” Emilia confidently answered. Anwar felt a sense of loss, as if someone offered him his favourite food and brought it near his mouth, but as he opened up to take a bite, they took it away and gave it to someone who wasn’t even hungry. 

“Spell it out for me, will ya?” The spectacled guy said as he scribbled through his notebook. 

“Just write ‘bro’ and ‘okay’ but lose the O” Emilia answered never losing her confidence. Upon hearing her words, Anwar’s jaw slightly dropped in disappointment but he quickly regained his senses. 

                                   •  •  •

“These are the famous Bergl rooms,” Emilia continued conversing with the group about the place. “or may I say the burglar rooms, where there lived plenty of burglars. They loved to paint, but don’t write that since they were secretly very famous painters.” Emilia, so engrossed in verbalising, did not realise that only two people were actually listening to her blabber, one who jotted down every word she said in his notebook as though recording the words of a prophet, and the other who looked at her with the same amount of disappointment a father would look at his son who was wasting his youth in nothingness. 

As the tourists continue to look around the enchanting palace, Emilia stood leaning against a wall, “This is not as bad as I thought it would be.” And took sip of water from the bottle in her hand. Her line of sight was stopped as she saw a familiar pair of grey eyes walking towards her. 

“I hope you learnt a thing or two George. Sheila would be really happy.” She stood straight as she expressed her thoughts. 

“Hm, of course she’d be happy if only she knew me.” Anwar conveyed drearily as he stopped in front of her. 

“How can your girlfriend not know you?” The brunette looked flabbergasted at her interlocutor’s response. 

“Because-“ The man in the suit thought he finally got his chance to place his true identity forward but before he can reveal it, he is cut off by a redhead. 

“Hey, I saw the bus left so I took another ride here. I’m George, I hope Sheila told you about me.” A tall guy with red curly hair declared. 

“How many guys named George is Sheila dating?” Emilia asked in confusion as she looked at both the men simultaneously. 

“Excuse me,” The redhead replied agitatedly. “I can guarantee you there’s only one,” He inspected Anwar for a second and looking back at Emilia, exclaimed, “and that’s me!” 

Emilia looked between the two males again, one she thought to be George and the other claiming to be him. There was only one way to find out. 

“Can I see your ID or something?” Emilia knew that the man who just arrived wasn’t here for laughs and she was correct as he immediately pulled out his passport. 

“Great! You can join the others.” Emilia said after quickly inspecting the passport. “right there!” She did a hand plateau pointing towards the rest of the group. 

She turned to face the man she thought was George and raised a brow at him in question, “Sir, you just took advantage of our VIP tour free of charge. Why would you imperso-“ 

“I tried telling you that I’m not the guy, Miss but you kept calling me George without even asking my name. You assumed, I didn’t impersonate anyone.” The man justified himself, slightly frustrated. 

“I’m sorry..” The girl apologised feeling guilty. He noticed the girl is about to speak more but then she doesn’t, as if she stopped herself. 

“Anyways, I had a few questions about this place, mind answering them?” Anwar asked politely. 

“I’d rather you pay for it.” Emilia narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Of course, I will pay once my questions are answered.” He said with a tiny smirk on his face. 

“Ask away then.” Emilia was utmost confident. 

“Can you tell me what is ‘Brokay’ architecture exactly?” Anwar put forth his first question, he knew the answer would be really amusing to hear. 

“Easy, it was started by two brothers who were bored and had nothing to do in the beginning of the 5th century.” Emilia shrugged as though even a kindergartener would know the answer to that. 

“That’s an interesting theory,” Anwar was right, the answer did amuse him, “but unfortunately, the real answer sounds more like: First of all it’s Baroque not ‘Brokay’ architecture. And it was created by the Catholic Church in the late 16th century.” 

“Yeah, that’s there, but you know it’s an unstated fact,” Emilia was completely blown away by Anwar’s knowledge of the subject but she did not let it show on her face, acting unimpressed she lowered her voice and looked around to make sure no one was listening “not many know about this.”

“Okay. How about you give me a brief history about the White and Gold rooms in the Schönbrunn Palace.” 

“The resemblance between you and my History professor is uncanny.” Emilia looked at Anwar with a distant look in her eyes, “Well, there’s no particular reason for that one, however, the dude who stayed there initially liked a white and gold theme. This is another thing that people don’t know.” 

“And how do you know this out of everyone Miss?” There was more of sarcasm than curiosity in Anwar’s question. 

“I just... do.” Emilia’s reply sounded like she was safeguarding the biggest secret ever of humanity, one which kept it protected from threats, and, Anwar, being the biggest one, could not know at all costs. 

“I see. I’d really like to meet your history professor someday.” Anwar said his eyes crinkling with laughter, “And next time don’t forget to ask them their names before assuming,” The grey-eyed man said pulling out his wallet, “and also make sure to serve them the right facts.” He winked as he took out a few notes. 

Even when Emilia had a list of information that she seemed to cook up at the moment, Anwar was amused than offended. As he leafed through the euros he came to a stop as he registered that he wasn’t consumed in his thoughts anymore. The bubbly girl in front of him had made him distract from it so easily that he wanted to silently thank her and so he put his hand back in his wallet to pull out more notes. 

“Stop. Don’t.” Anwar stopped halfway through when he was  interrupted by Emilia. 

“It was a pleasure answering your great questions. But I really have to go now, the tourists are waiting. Good day, sir!” She says as she walked back to join the group and Anwar was left once again alone, with his thoughts. 

Anwar looked at her walk away and join the rest of her group. He smiled to himself, and turned around to walk back to his hotel room which wasn’t very far. 

This is it. 

He thought; that was how he parted ways with an amusing girl named Emilia Johnson. He hadn’t met a girl with as much confidence and charm her. Her bright green eyes appeared more vivid as he thought about her on his way back. He realised he’d have liked to know more of her, if he’d been given more time. Nonetheless, he took joy in the fact that he at least knew her name. 

But who said this would be their only encounter?