Amantine's Song

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 3

Better forget coffee and get away immediately from those two early morning time-wasters. Tube, direction Edgware Road. I could have coffee there, before going to Geoff.

‘You don’t want to tell us where you’re going, my dear?’ The old man was also interested in my destination. I remained nailed there, without a real reason except curiosity about those particular, devastated and rather sad forms of humanity. ‘Could you go get me another coffee, my dear?’ The old man raised the paper cup towards me. Did he read my mind? It was exactly what I wanted as well. ‘The coffee shop is across the street, if you don’t mind.’

He pointed at it and I turned automatically to look at it. I would have gladly gone, but if I went I would have to get coffee for him too. Then come back to deliver it to him, get closer... interact.

‘I can pay for it, girl. Don’t worry about it, I’m not begging you for charity.’ The old man pointed his placid light eyes at me and rummaged in his worn jacket. He took out some coins and handed them to me.

‘Oh no, don’t worry about it.’ I sighed, pointing at the coffee shop with my head. ‘I just wonder why you don’t send the lazy one who is standing next to you. Too busy holding up the wall?’

I threw a mocking look at the young punchable face. I was dying to do it, it was my turn. I didn’t give him time to reply but set off towards the coffee shop.

For a moment the thought of getting coffee for punchable face crossed my mind, then I told myself no, I shouldn’t have to. I was not a waitress! He could fend for himself. After drinking my coffee in the coffee shop, I returned to the corner of the street and found them where I had left them. I handed the paper cup to the old man, feigning a smile.

‘Thank you, my dear.’ The old man grabbed the cup with a pleased smile. ‘I couldn’t send the boy there... it is beginning to get busier, too many people around, he would draw attention.’

I shrugged carelessly. The old man was talking in riddles, but it wasn’t my problem after all. ‘All right, have a good day.’

I was ready to fade away once and for all. I carefully avoided making eye contact again with punchable face, I’d had enough of him and of that situation. I wanted to disappear inside the tube. I wanted to reach my destination.

‘What do you do in your life?’ The old man, savouring his coffee with exaggerated taste, stopped me again.

What do you do in your life? What kind of question was that for a stranger who had just offered him a coffee? And anyway, I didn’t want to answer. I realized that it wasn’t a question requiring an answer, it was just something to say. Of course, undoubtedly for many it was. But it was “the question”. The essence of a person. Who could answer with one word, or one thousand.

I decided that, for this occasion, one would be enough.

‘Literature.’

‘Literature?’ The old man smiled at me and nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm. ‘Me too, lots of literature. The romantics, above all. Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, Byron, Coleridge... all that gang.’

I looked at him, disbelieving. He looked back at me, frowning, and showing more wrinkles than I had noticed so far.

‘How did you spend this month? Who did you smile with? You don’t feel what I feel, you don’t know what love means, maybe one day you’ll know it, but it’s not your time yet.’

I was puzzled, the old man caught me by surprise. It was a feeling that I didn’t like at all. Meanwhile, the old man continued reciting, undaunted.

‘Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart…’

‘John Keats, my dear,’ he informed me, leaning his back against the wall and squinting. He seemed to have lost himself inside an unknown, recondite, distant world.

He knew poetry. How did he end up there? Perhaps precisely because he knew poetry and not the logic of the world. I had no desire to delve deeper. I just wanted to leave, step away, forget those moments of life, take my train finally and disappear forever in another part of the city.

I tried to avoid it, to resist. But I couldn’t help giving a last look at punchable face. What did I care, after all? I would never see him again! He looked back at me but this time he didn’t grin. He was serious, it seemed he was thinking. I hoped he didn’t begin to recite poetry as well. It would have been too much in one day.

‘Anyway... have a good day. And goodbye.’ Better for me to fade away immediately.

In the meantime, the old man had opened his light, slightly vacant eyes, pointing them at me again. I didn’t want to be held back and I ran away before he tried to, with any excuse. Above all, before being tempted to stop myself again, wasting time with those two individuals. I didn’t have a moment of my life to waste. I always devoted it some way. Even the time spent sleeping I considered wasted, but unfortunately necessary. I hated the time-wasters. And I wouldn’t turn myself into one of them, not even for a minute more than necessary.