Little Patience

A lonely fly frantically buzzes across the entire cafe. Even the sounds of nu-jazz and heated conversations can't keep Chris from focusing on it. He doesn't like bugs, as most people do, but loud and annoying ones get on his nerves more than any. Attentively tracking their movement and waiting for the chance to finally shut them up is one of the few ways in which he's willing to waste his time.

He doesn't have anything better to do, after all. The man finds sitting on his smartphone in social spaces crass, and a cafe usually isn't the place to be going up to strangers and barging into conversations.

His date wasn't late. He simply valued the idea of going out early. If he missed the bus or got into some sort of predicament, then at least he could afford himself some time and save some stress. One time, as a kid, he went out early for school, accidentally left his wallet on the bus, and had to chase after it for half an hour! He couldn't imagine what would happen if he decided to go out late that day...

A nearby conversation stuck out from the chatter. Four friends: two blondes, a handsome man in a flannel shirt, and a reserved man in punky attire. They had ordered cake and sweetened wine.

"...so she ran after him, asking 'Hey, wait, where're you going?', and he responded all like, 'Oh man, I'm really sorry for wasting your time, I can already see that it's pointless, I'm clearly not gonna be good enough for you...' but he was, like, the best guy she had ever seen!"

The gaggle hollered with laughs, giggles and "What?"-s, asking what the man looked like and what happened after. Chris smirked, he always liked to listen to the stories of strangers.

Just as the hour struck, a bell rang out and the woman came in. Were this a movie, she would attract everyone's attention. Carrottop, in a bright, green suit over a white-hot evening shirt, she looked the ideal product of the second wave. Her face was stern and betrayed neither excitement nor apprehension. 

The woman scanned through the cafe, before meeting eyes with the only man sitting alone. She walked up to him the way that a boss would be walking up to an employee he was about to fire.

"Christopher Languid?"

"Uh, yeah. You can just say Chris, though."

"Good. Elizabeth Bee." She extended her hand towards his, practically forcing him to give a shake.

"Do your friends just call you Bee?" he asked, as nonaggressively as he possibly could.

"What, are we friends already?"

She sounded so contemptuous that for a second he considered whether she even understands the meaning of the word.

"Well, I mean... I hope so!" He tried to be charming, without coming off as creepy or sleazy.

"Yeah, me too." She responded blankly.

Both of them could already tell that this would not be an easy evening. To swat away the silence, Chris took the initiative. Of course he does.

"So... What're you ordering?"

"Anything but coffee. I'm already pumped enough of it to last me a week."

He chuckled as honestly as he could. He did find it a pretty funny picture, her frantically drinking cup after cup while furiously tapping at a computer or...

"Where do you work?"

"Main Street, 77-"

"No, I-h-I mean, what's your job?"

She sighed. Her eyes magnetized themselves to his.

"Do I look like I wanna talk about it?"

If he could, Chris would be punching himself in the face right now. Of course! Why is he asking her about the one thing she wants to obviously get away from right now? If he wants to get anywhere, he needs to stop thinking about himself and try to understand what she wants right now!

"R-right. Oh, you still didn't tell me what you wanna order. I'll go do it for you if you-"

Unsparked, Elizabeth's eyes slid off of the conversation, as her sigh mixed itself with a growl.

"I don't want anything. I would order something myself but I don't care today."

Elizabeth now sounded a lot more exacerbated.

"Right, right! I was just asking, if you just wanna talk, that's alright-"

He heard a quiet groan. He needed to change gears. Chris straightened himself out, coughed in his mouth to signify a shift in tone and leaned forwards, elbows resting on his legs, and his hands interlocked to convey his earnestness. He spoke with calm and warmth.

"...Or not.

Listen, if you want, you don't have to answer to me with half-assed grumbles and sighs. You don't wanna have a conversation? Alright! I can just keep talking to myself, on and on, for an hour or two, and you can just chill out and forget about everything. You know, your chair is very comfy, you can totally just take a nap if you want! I'm completely fine with that.

Or...you can tell me what's biting you-"

"Chriiist..."

"...But, listen, you don't have to-"

"Well, when you present it like that, I don't really have a choice, do I?! 'Hey, you can shut up like a coward or start spilling out your whole heart to a stranger!'

...nnnhhh...

My boss is an asshole and my job is tiring. There! That's it. Nothing special. I wanted to write my own article while working on what was already assigned to me, and then one of our other reporters quit, so now I also have to finish her stupid sports scandal takedown or whatever."

"A-"

"And no, I can't ask the boss to give me less work, because this is also a huge opportunity for me I promised, it made sense and I need the money for... my own reasons."

"I won't pry about them."

"Thank you. 'T least you're better than the last guy I met."

She snarled, her eyes averted from him.

"Men. You all think you can just 'fix' people in a day!"

"Really? That seems more like a woman thing to me. That's the trope, right? 'Oh, all you've gotta do is just talk about your feelings, and everything will somehow turn out well."

"No, no. Men are the ones who want quick and easy solutions. They think it's like fixing a car, just have one good, straight-up, "" real"" conversation and you can make everything work forever!"

"I know I can't."

"Pfft, of course. YOU are different. You're not like other guys. It's 'cause you're 'nice' and 'respectful'."

The black bile in Bee's voice was so tangible, it might have killed that fly still buzzing around. Chris was starting to get just a tiny bit indignant.

"That's not what I meant. I just wanna unwind and talk about my frustrations, too! But I won't do it if all it's gonna do is sour your mood even more! Besides, I know for a fact that you can't be changed with just one talk."

The way he worded his response really got on her nerves.

"Oh, and why are you so sure? What, you a therapist or something?"

Chris shifted in his chair uncomfortably, arms tensed up and hands clenched.

"OH GOD DAMNIT!"

"No no no, listen, I-"

Bee grabbed her items, drained of any will to continue this charade. She sounded more angry at herself than her partner.

"Of course, why didn't I see it? Mr. 'We-can-just-have-a-talk'..."

"I-I know, you're right, I shouldn't have said that, it's just my mental tick-"

"Shut it. You goddamn psycho-magicians with your mind tricks."

"What're you talking about? You hate mental health workers that much?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep coming up with fancy words, keep blabbering like the useless tool you are. Forcing people to talk about shit you have no right to know... You make me sick, you know that?"

Unprepared for this level of hostility, he reflexively shrugged his arms and, as if by instinct, replied:

"I can't make you more sick than you already are."

She gasped with incredulity and exasperation. Seeing that they were making a scene, she hesitated. Eliza didn't want to be the one to run out on him, but sitting back meant having to at least partially agree with his statement.

Standing in the middle of the cafe, with everyone's attention on her, Bee was trapped. She tried to reap her arms across the room as if seeking approval of the crowd in spite of the fact that no one knew what she was standing up for in the first place.

Finally, she sat down.

"Alright, bud. You've got one more chance. So, tell me, what is it that I'm soooo sick with? What fancy buzzword are you gonna throw at me now, eh? Depression? ADCD? Oppressive-compressive personality order?"

He was about to correct her but knew that she still wouldn't care.

"You..."

Bee raised her brow, ready to laugh him off the second his mouth opened.

"...are a little impatient."

Her mouth agape, she didn't know how to retort with anything but an "Eh?".

Even though he acted with passion, there was no anger and no pretense in his voice.

"I dunno, I just wanted to have a pleasant evening with a girl that seemed pretty and nice. Maybe unwind a bit, talk about how dumb and annoying my clients sometimes are. You know: have fun, take it easy...

But you're standin' 'ere, already assuming a billion things about me with no proof, trying to find some hidden agenda just so that you can dismiss me, and talk about whatever's going on in your job, or to actually not talk about it, or just stew in your own frustrations or feel better about hating everyone and everything around you... Christ, just chill! It's a wonderful night out, there's beautiful music, nice people around, good food-"

A loud slap broke her concentration so hard that she flinched.

"Goddamn annoying flies roaming about!"

He cackled mildly and jovially, but in such a specific way, that it made Bee consider whether she had actually read his surname right. She felt like she knew that laugh from somewhere...

He resumed as if nothing happened.

"Look around you, there's fresh air, the moon's out, the weather's nice..."

"What's your point?"

"Nothing! It's just a nice, regular, ordinary day."

"Maybe for you."

"Well, yeah! Of course! But I want it to also be good for you!"

"Oh, sure. You think you're so smart and original. Carpe diem, 'just appreciate every day around you.' That's such an old trope that it's-"

"That it's most likely true! And dismissing it as obvious won't actually help you with anything. Why are you trying to ruin yourself like that? Stop... trying to find more than there is to find!"

Silence fell between them. Even in spite of the dead bug, the cafe was still abuzz. Bee took a deep sigh.

"I hate obvious things. If I didn't, my job would be much different. It's easy for you to just turn these things on and off, but not for me. It's not how my brain... works. And I can't trust anyone else to... get it, you know?"

"Again, you're being impatient. How can you expect anyone to understand you after a single date?"

She leaned back in her chair, arms limp and eyes glued to the ceiling fan.

"I... I don't know. I'm not even sure why I'm doing this. Sorry, I'm just wasting your time-"

Bee was just about to storm out again, but Chris grabbed her by the sleeve, fixing his gaze into hers.

"Stop. Just... stop. Right now AND in general. You act like you're being put on trial or something. Listen, whatever's going on at work, it's not going on here and now. Acting like it is will only make you even more tired. Let's just... stop talking for a moment, alright?"

He let her go, his arm still hovering. When she calmed down, he stood up, making her jitter.

"I'll order you something." He smirked kindly.

She raised her hand, as if about to protest, but decided not to.

"Something salty, please."

She looked out the window. There were no cars outside, only people. No bicycles, no vehicles, no runners. Only people. Up till now, she felt cold and didn't want to take off her suit. She did, now.

Chris gave her a piece of peanut cake covered with honey, and a glass of water.

Even though she didn't seem hungry at first, she took a bite anyways. The taste turned out less important than the feeling of fresh normalcy, something that Bee didn't allow herself for a long time.

She silently ate the small piece. At first she scooped up a huge chunk and unceremoniously bit down, but the flavor was too strong. She had to take measured bites and keep the pieces in her mouth, enjoy the taste.

The more she ate, the more she liked it, and the sadder she got when glancing at the shrinking proportions of the pattie. She didn't want to resume the conversation, she didn't feel mentally prepared yet. So, it looked like her, trying to recreate the Fibonacci spiral with her own mouth: each subsequent piece halved in size and remained in the mouth for twice as long.

After an infinity of degustation, there was finally no excuse left on her plate.

"Tasty?" Chris half-mumbled, forcing some kind of pre-primal grunt of a non-language.

"Mhm." Bee retorted, giving him a small paper slip with a smile.

---

A lonely ladybug gently murmurs through the restaurant. Even the captivating classical and jovial chitchat can't keep Elly from becoming entranced. She doesn't like bugs, as most people do, but she rarely has the chance to see the kind ones. Curiously tracing their airborne dances, and hoping that no resentful client takes their frustrations out on them, is one of the few ways in which she's willing to enjoy her time.

A server elegantly slicks up to her, jitterily waiting for an indication of whether Bee has made up her mind or not. The girl lazily, yet socially waves her hand, inwardly cheering on for the busy worker to find strength. She's early today, so she doesn't need to think about ordering anything yet. She already knows what she's gonna order: escargot