A Peculiar String of Bizarre Dreams

Chapter 41: A Rare Smile

I make my way back to the center of town. People are now bustling in and out of bookshops, clothing stores and cafes.

Words Haven Cafe sits in the middle of it all. It grabs all the attention of passersby, inviting them in to make this one stop where they can look at books while having a cup of tea. The comforting smell of caffeine invades my senses as soon as I step into the circle of its entrance.

I pass through the familiar wood-paneled doors. The display in the window looks unchanged. Yet I stop for a second to scan through the book spines, my mind wondering why the display hasn't been revamped in so many days, and realizing again that I have only been gone a night.

The realm-traveling has instilled me with stupendous experiences and memories, so much so that I feel aged. Which makes me wonder how do the voyageur de temps age? Since we go into time and return, do we age differently than the people around us? But then I was able to manipulate my age when I visited Mamma. I'm sure there's a way out of this age hassle.

I take an empty ink-bowl behind the counter and carousel around in it, waiting for Vazouk to show up. The cafe isn't too crowded. A few people occupy two tables, one next to the window and the other close to the counter.

The usual playlist of songs blares softly from speakers in the ceiling; songs that match themes from actual books. I hear the track change to Under my Umbrella, commemorating the Casual Vacancy. Sometimes, you hear Vazouks' nephew introduce a song and talk about the book it matches with. Sometimes, if the song matches the mood, customers jump up and start dancing along the music. But Vazouk tries to be careful; he removes a song from the playlist if it sounds too catchy. He doesn't want crazy youngsters to mistake his sober cafe for a trashy club. So, usually soft indie music plays from the speakers and if ever someone dares to dance, it's a cautious waltz that lasts about a minute or less.

The volume for Rihanna's song is turned way down. It accidentally got into one of the playlists and Vazouk clearly hadn't found the time to delete it yet, because on hearing the song for the first time, he opined, "People are bound to tap their feet to this, God forbid." His words, not mine.

He finally appears behind the counter with his hair properly combed in place and wearing the same blue sweater from yesterday. He wears sweaters all year round. His cold heart possibly gives him the chills.

"What can I get you, Jemma?"

"Hey Vazouk, how are you today?" I smile widely.

"Better I guess. People aren't being exceptionally cranky, that's always a plus in my book."

"I'd like to read your book, Vazouk," I joke.

"That book will go with me to my grave," he informs me nonchalantly.

"Well, you won't be able to stop me from reading it when you're dead. I'll read it before they bury it."

"My ghost will be as alive as I am right now. Trust me, no one is going to read that book. Mostly because I scribble more than I write."

"In all seriousness though, if you ever write a book, I know it's going to be brilliant."

Vazouk's face cracks, a rare smile appears in its shadows.

"So what would you like?" He asks again.

"I would love a slice of warm apple pie with vanilla ice cream and a cup of coffee, please," I specify.

"Anything else?"

"Nope, that's all. I have some time to spare before the sun goes down."

He nods at me distractedly and heads back to business behind the counter. I watch him pour me some coffee.

He sets a giant red cup before me then heads back to the kitchen and I hear him moving things around, grabbing bowls and spoons. I sip on my delicious coffee.

I missed coffee. I missed caffeine when I was out crossing strange lands, where there was none. Except that hospital, where I managed to find Starbucks. The memory makes me smile.

A few minutes later, Vazouk returns with my order and sets it beside my coffee. I admire the sight before me and inhale deeply, sampling the delicious smells.

Vazouk is about to leave to attend to other orders when I stop him,"Wait, one more thing."

He comes over to face me and tries to hide his frown. I place the stone on the counter.

"What's this?" He picks it up and examines it, just like my Dad. I guess you have to have something in common to be friends.

"It's called Howlite. It's for you. Its benefits include making people around you be less annoying."

It's not the complete truth, but seeing that it's Vazouk I don't think it matters. Technically, it's for his anger but rephrasing never hurt anyone. It works.

"This is cool. Thanks, kid." A flicker of another rare smile later, he's gone.

Dad told me once that Vazouk thought I was a special kid, that I never did something without a reason. I didn't believe Dad then, Vazouk would never admit something like that to any one.

But Vazouk kept my gem, and that's all that matters to me.