Seen ✓✓
I was standing in the queue at the Starbucks counter on the ground floor of my office. The queue was longer than the typical weekday. Through my airpods, my best friend was yapping away, complaining about her husband. I was hardly listening, looking around the cafe, curious to see what new flavours have launched this week.
By the pastry counter, I saw an amusing figure. Amongst the sea of men dressed in denims and polo t-shirts, stood this man. He wore loose linen trousers with a half-buttoned-up shirt along with a pair of open-toed shoes. If his attire didn’t give away his unhurried attitude, his demeanour surely did. He stood staring at the food shelves for a long time, scratching his beard. Most of us would deliberate less while choosing a career than this man choosing a piece of cake.
Suddenly, he turned and looked at me. As though he was suddenly made aware of my existence. He looked straight through me, my suit, my make-up, my highlights. The facade was no match for his piercing eye. The directness of his gaze made me want to scream, to turn away. But he had a hold on me; on something deep inside me. We locked eyes. His gaze became an intense grip refusing to let go.
I stood frozen for what seemed like eternity until he finally released me. Arms reaching to cover myself, I pull my blazer closer and adjust my hair. My body moved tentatively, cautious of the eyes that could seize control at any time.
I was saved by the Barista at the counter. The line had moved and I nervously placed my usual order. As I waited for my card to be returned, temptation got the better of me. I turned and looked in his direction. He was now seated at the end of the cafe, with me directly in his line of sight. Unlike everyone else, there was no screen or headphones to distract him. He had his attention on a cup of coffee.
He looked up and our eyes met, one more time. But this time was different, this time he was gentle. He picked up a knife and cut through the piece of chocolate cake in front of him. The cake was dense but he sliced it in one slow, uniform movement; his gaze unwavering. At last, he smiled a lopsided smile- a subtle quirk at the corner of his lips. I couldn’t help but blush as he continued to look, his smug expression unchanged. I fumbled with my wallet, clearly flustered. Yet, I didn’t want to reveal my embarrassment, so I turned away.
I continued to walk along the counter, away from him. I felt severely conscious, my every step felt scandalous. I can’t remember the last time I was fully aware of each breath, each action. As though I was observing myself through his eyes.
I turned the corner around the counter and made sure I was well outside his field of vision before I breathed a sigh of relief. It took a few seconds for my breath to feel normal and for my personality to return- the part that feels external and managed by other people.
Who was this man who could see past my facade and peer so deep into me? I have been with many men before, but the few seconds our eyes met felt more intimate and vulnerable than years with anyone else. What was this unsettling heaviness in my chest? And why does it feel more real than anything else I have ever experienced? Is this what I think it is? The essence of all poetry? The theme of every single Bollywood movie? Is this ..
“Hello? Are you still there ?” Her friend was still on the call. “Did you even hear what I told you? Give some reaction no?”
“Babe! Babe Listen! Something happened,” I spoke excitedly. “I just saw this interesting man when I was getting coffee. And it’s nothing like I have ever felt before.”
“Okayyyyy. And?”
“Babe I don’t know how to describe it. My heart’s racing. I feel like giggling like a schoolgirl. And the way he looks at me! I froze in fear. God! How do I explain it to you!”
“Did you go talk to him?”
“No, but I smiled back.”
“What do you mean smile back? Babe quit acting like a teenager and go say hi!”
“Yeah. Maybe I will. Huh. Maybe I will”
“Are you OK babe?”
“Yeah yeah! Wait my coffee is here, I’ll call you in a bit. ok? Bye”
I could hear my name being called out, but thankfully the Barista knew me well. He recognised where I was standing and I was handed my coffee without having to expose myself. I stood there gathering my courage, this is the moment I have been praying for most of my adult life. My own little meet-cute. The fairy tale begins today and all I have to do is walk around the corner and then straight.
I pulled out my phone and opened the camera. I tucked my hair behind my ear and checked my lipstick. I looked pretty good, makeup on point. I was taking one last look before locking my phone and a voice inside my head asked - is this the real me? Or is it the one he sees, when he looks at me?
I snap myself out of it. I tossed my phone into my bag and walked briskly. As I turned the corner, I noticed the queue had significantly increased, almost completely blocking my view of the table at which he was sitting.
I paused for a moment, looking through the gaps in the queue, trying to sneak a peak at him. And then, someone moved for a brief second. There he was, clear as day. Sitting at the same table, savouring his cup of coffee.
Although he did not see me this time, I felt it again. The same vulnerability, the intensity, the realness. I know I want it. I know I want to share it with that man. I want to walk up to him and give myself entirely, no more facades. Raw and vulnerable.
I know this is rare. I know nothing less will make me truly happy. But it’s too scary and I’m not ready yet. And I probably never will be.
I stand there in quiet contemplation. I notice that the queue now extends well beyond the exit. I take a sip of my coffee and briskly walk out of the cafe. I don’t look back.
I never went back to that Starbucks again.