Strawberries with Cream Part III

Anjor’s hands do not normally sweat. Especially while texting. Yet the cellular phone almost slips out of his hands not once but twice. After feverishly thrashing his fingers on the keypad, going through several revisions of the message he is typing, the screen reads

“I was bored today, and started wondering how many guys would try to beat me up if I took you out for coffee. So I decided that there was only one way to find out.”

Waiting for replies to text messages should be employed as a torture method under the patriot act, Anjor thinks. He closes his eyes. It has never been this excruciating. He thinks about technology, as he sometimes does when he is trying to get his mind off something. Today’s technology has enabled him to transcribe his emotions into a well quantified electronic representation, which is then converted into a frequency modulated radio wave, flies and bounces and travels through the concrete jungle, perhaps stopping at a few towers on its way, finally makes it to her cellphone unharmed, and evokes emotions in her as she reads it. Then she will transcribe those emotions and they will reach him the same way. Hopefully.

The vibrating phone in his pocket shatters his thought bubble and he nervously reaches for it. He flips it open.

“One new message. Press OK to open.”
He blinks while pressing OK.
“Nah I don’t think anyone would try. But sure, coffee sounds cool. Barista at 6:45?”
This time his fingers are dry and it takes him mere seconds to type the next message.
“I’ll be there.”


Why isn’t she here yet, Anjor worries, its already 7 o clock. He flips open his phone to check the time in the message that she sent. It was still 6:45. Did he go to the wrong place? What if she had come to her senses and realized that she had only agreed to go out with him in a moment of madness?

Anjor periodically pretends to be very interested in his phone so that it doesn’t look like he’s being stood up. He keeps getting glances from the barista since he hasn’t ordered anything. He reads the menu cover to cover no less than four times. Hope is dwindling.

“And I thought waiting for text messages for excruciating.” He smiles dryly to himself.

Anjor debates about whet her to call her or text her or do nothing. He really doesn’t want to appear desperate. He decides to do nothing, and tries to calm his nerves. Finally his phone starts vibrating and he answers it in seconds.

“Where are you in Barista?”
“Oh right next to the counter on the entrance-side.”
“Ok I’ll be right there.”

He quickly stops looking at the door and stares straight at the barren wall to his right as she walks up to the glass door. He’s trying really hard not to look eager.
Her feet follow each other flawlessly on the polished surface of the coffee joint. Everything that he had rehearsed in his mind vanishes the moment she smiles and waves at him.
He is completely oblivious to her saying “Sorry I’m late”, because the relief is still washing over him.

“So how was your day?” he blurts without even waiting for her to sit down, and quietly curses at himself.
“It was fine…”
Say interesting things Anjor tells himself, but he looks like a deer dazzled by the headlights of her smile.
“So…uh why don’t we get some coffee?” Anjor smiles weakly as he tries to regain composure.
“That sounds good.”

They walk over together to the counter and order two Cappuccinos. She insists on paying for both of them. He is no stranger to going Dutch, but it is not often that a girl buys him coffee.

Anjor proceeds to conduct himself in a completely disastrous manner. In the next 15 minutes, he spills his coffee, hits his head, and narrowly avoids knocking over the table. She gets a call from a friend asking her to go somewhere, and this is her cue to leave. Anjor walks her to her scooter, and just before it’s too late he manages to blurt out

“I…had a nice time, I’d like to see you again”
“Ok. I’ll see you around sometime.”
“Cool, bye!”
“See you.”
He turns around and starts walking to his car, having no idea what she thinks of him.