Ma3a Jareeda

A scene that was inspired from Nizar Qabani's Ma3a Jareeda.. Here is the qa9eeda followed by the scene:

مع جريدة

أخرجَ من معطفهِ الجريده..

وعلبةَ الثقابِ

ودون أن يلاحظَ اضطرابي..

ودونما اهتمامِ

تناولَ السكَّرَ من أمامي..

ذوَّب في الفنجانِ قطعتين

ذوَّبني.. ذوَّب قطعتين

وبعدَ لحظتين

ودونَ أن يراني

ويعرفَ الشوقَ الذي اعتراني..

تناولَ المعطفَ من أمامي

وغابَ في الزحامِ

مخلَّفاً وراءه.. الجريده

وحيدةً

مثلي أنا.. وحيدة

Just as the clock passed 12 noon, the café was starting to get filled with its common visitors. The sun was shining and a cool summer breeze was killing its heat. The outdoor area was full, while only few tables were occupied inside. Waiters were rushing in and out, sometimes carrying treys full of every kind of cake and coffee, sometimes with menus and cheques.

She walked passed the glassy door with her pony tale swinging left and right. She paused, slightly bent her back forward, and lowered her huge sun glasses few millimeters down her nose. Her gaze was fixed on one spot. His usual spot. And there he was, talking to the waitress with a cloud of smoke on top of his head. She pushed her sun glasses back up, tightened the belt around her waist, held the strap of her hand bag that was on her right shoulder tightly and walked in putting a careless expression on her face.

His face was hidden behind the newspaper when she walked in. Hoping that he’d notice her presence, she stood by the counter pretending to look at all the cakes. But as usual, he was on his own world, nothing would grab his attention except for that newspaper in his hands. She turned around wondering where to sit this time; she chose a table by the corner, where she could have a good view of his profile. And while passing around his table, she curiously peaked on his newspaper; it was the Business Today page.

She watched him as he sipped his Turkish Coffee every now and then. Her head was resting on her left palm and her right hand was lying on the table. The same waitress stopped by her table and woke her up from her daydream. She noticed him turning his head around as she placed the order. Her heart fell in her stomach while she pretended to be calm and played coldly with her pony tale. By the time she was done, she turned her head around to find him hiding behind the newspaper again. She took a deep breath and the coffee aroma filled her nose. A step forward, she thought.

His phone rang as she took the first sip of her coffee. She heard his voice for the first time. Thick and gentle. She couldn’t hear the words clearly, all she could hear was a mono tone that was broken with a formal laugh once. Curiosity ate her alive wondering who it was and what’s it about. But why would it matter when she didn’t even know his name?

He folded the newspaper, stood up, wore his jacket and put his phone & lighter in his pocket. He was standing by the counter to pay his bill when it suddenly, out of nowhere, started to rain. All people who were sitting outdoors rushed in while he made his way out. Her eyes followed him desperately till he disappeared between the crowd. He never looked back.

Holding her cup between both hands, she stared at his empty chair, at the folded newspaper, the small pieces of cigarettes that were left in the ash trey and the empty small coffee cup on his table. A sense of loneliness covered the place although it was getting more and more crowded. She was about to leave when a man walked in and sat on that chair with a woman next to him. The waitress cleaned the table and every trace of his presence was removed. Just like he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. She repeated as she banished every thought of his existence while passing by his table. She put on her sun glasses and walked out the door, he was never there.. She thought…

Nazli

Someday, some month in 2009.