Story of Story

I am sipping my black coffee. The bitter taste of it is the best company when I feel so lonely like now. Watching at the glass, hoping for a comet pass, this rainy night is just another pathetic night in my life. 

I pull out a shabby old note from my bag. Take a pencil and start tattooing the paper with many alphabets.    

Warsaw, 8 a.m  

I am glad back to this town. I like this because it means I have many chances to see him, look into his hazed eyes, smell his Hugo Boss, or if I am lucky, I will taste that smooth warm kiss that I always miss. 

"Nay, is that you?" 

I look for the voice from. I catch a familiar body, a man in an old navy jacket standing not far away from me. 

"Josh, it's long time .... How are you?" I couldn't hide my surprising feeling in my tone. 

A friend from the past is approaching my table. His grey hair, paced skin aren't changed a bit, even masculine muscle is still there. He kisses both my chicks as a warm greeting then sits on the chair in front of me.

What are you doing in Warsaw?" 

I lift up my shoulder, "You pretty well know about the answer, Josh. Chopin always calls me. The contest will be hold tomorrow."  

"Chopin it is. As ...," his tone is hanging in the air.

"What?"  

"Is it only Chopin, Darl? I thought there is someone brought you back here." 

I grin a smile. A friend that knows me deep down just uncover my other reason why I took an early flight from JFK International Airport to Poland. 

"It is not for your first crush, isn't it?"

I don't say anything and let his hypothesis fills his head. 

"Oohh, no .... How couldn't you move on sweet heart. He's totally not for you!" 

"I knew it. It is just an ordinary meeting. A meeting that is happen just because he is also here. Just for reminiscing the old days." I answer defensively. 

"Don't you know that he has a fiance?" 

Ouch,  that's hurt. Why people loves reminding me to that matter? I grin a smile. "What do you think,  Josh?"

He looks me in the eyes, trying to find an answer.

"Well, you're a big girl, aren't you?" 

His grey eyes see something that I've hidden. I know it. But I don't wanna seem bother to it. So I start to talk a warm talk like old friends used after long time not seeing each other. 

A waiter reaches our table and hands his order. Josh, pays it and gives some tips for it as he always does. He stands up and kisses me a good bye, he is in a rush. But he had asked to see him before I left the town.

"Let's meet up in Chopin Forest, I know you'll never miss that!"  

I smile as a yes of his statement.  "Let's meet up there." 

I watch him disappear behind the the door. And I start to think about what he said. He is not for me, he has a fiancé now. 

What do I do? I had five days before I leave this country. Besides, I've already told him that I was here for a week and today we were gonna meet. Should I wait for him here or should I  leave this coffee shop and pretend that I didn't have  any appointment with him?

Too late, as the door bell is ringing, I see the face that always makes me fall in love all over again. His hazed eyes catch me, freeze me. His arrogant smile is pretty close to a smirk that I hate, but I love that. He walks then sits in front of me. I can smell his Hugo Boss, a masculine smell that I like when I am in his tight hug. Oh god, I almost forget to breath. 

"So, how are you, Nay?"  

I stop writing. Figuring out what should I write next. Nayla is a beautiful girl, a fragile one that wants to be seen as tough as a happy single. Should I make it a happy ending story by making her to get back her first crush with consequences plays a role as a bad girl while if I make it as a sad ending, I will make her flies back to US with her heart broken.

But wait,don't both are sad?

I sip my coffee.  It is getting colder and bitter. I should have drunk it up in the first place before it turns this bad. I rise my hand, try to get the waiter attention. "Could you heat my coffee?"

He thinks for seconds before finds a correct answer. "I am afraid I can't make it for you. Coffee can't be reheated. But I can make another cup for you".

I bite my lower lip as I make a difficult decision.  "Make me another cup then."

I look the glass. It is dark outside since the sun was already set. I can't see clearly if no lights on. Somehow, when a truck passes and blocks the lights, I could see my own reflection there. Alone.

The waiter just gave me a phenomenon that Sometimes, there is a thing that cannot be fixed. Like hot coffee that turns to be cold, it can't be reheated. It can actually, but won't be as good as the original one. Arrrgggh, I think too much! Why don't I just write what actually happen? It must be easier wrote what did happen at that time. I just need to dig deeper to the grave.

I smile. Trying to hide my madness living in my head. I won't let him know that it is currently portraying our togetherness we had years ago. I know he is good in reading my mind. I am just an opened book for him. But caught with pitiful memories on my face isn't a reunion-moment I wish I have.

"After all these years, you're still beautiful." He said as an opener.

I can't stop smiling. "And after all these years you're still able to captivate me with the same old charm."

"So, does it still works?" he is looked surprised.

I laugh. I play it wittily. I guess I'm smart enough and I could enjoy that.

But in a second I stop laughing as a woman approaching our table and putting her hands on his shoulders. I know her. His fiance, a Poland model. All of sudden I am feel so small. A silly writer has nothing to compare with a Caucasian model. He has a ton of reasons why he chose her over me.   

Josh's voice suddenly resound in my head, he's totally not for you. Then I hear an piano instrumental plays Ballade No.1 Op.23 in G Minor, a piece that could tear you apart. The ballad that pretty completely me with this misserableness. I also hear a crack inside my chest. 

Is there any genius knows that she is smart? No, she is a dumb ass. She is me.

....

I sigh. Writing this story makes me so tired out. I really have no idea why I should use my own name for the main lead of the story. I also have no idea why I choose the Hugo-Boss guy to play here. They both are real --- and so is the story. The love story is mine. Even the meeting in Warsaw itself was real. I came to the Piano Chopin Contest in Poland just because I know I would meet him there. I was so frustrated then wrote them all. Only God knows why Navid, the editor likes it. And this story would feed me in New York.

Screw me!