Heaven (new version)

chapter 17: a talent for suffering

It was in a quiet alley somewhere in Prague where Sina had run into the Dove Cafe to protect himself from a sudden and very vicious snowstorm. The world around Sina had become a confusion of white. Fog had tried to swallow him down its gullet. Flakes as big as his fist had swarmed like a bad trip. Being a Monday night in November, the cafe was nearly empty.

"We close in twenty minutes, friend." Wiping his hands on his apron, the shop's owner gestured to the time.

"Could I stay until then?" Sina had picked up the language swiftly as he always had when in a new country. Though his accent was terrible conversation came easily.

A voice from the back of the cafe caused Sina to turn and look at the only other patron. "Are you to send us into the maws of death, Matej?"

The shop owner, Matej, walked to the window, pushed back an old blue curtain, and frowned. "It is snowing rather heavily."

"Stranger, tell Matej we may perish if he were to cast us out there in this storm." The man's table was covered in papers. A carafe of burgundy wine and a glass were in the middle of those papers, and next to them was a plate of half-eaten dumplings with a crumpled napkin tossed over them. There was a worn briefcase at the man's side, and what looked like a shoe print on the brown leather.

Sina's gaze glided over the man and the sharp juts of his cheekbones and nose. "It is pretty bad out there and it doesn't look like it's going to stop soon."

"You see, Matej? We may have to stay here all night."

The shop owner walked to the man's table. He took the plate and whispered, "You must keep your strength up, Franz."

Ignoring his comment, the man, repeated, "All night. Perhaps even all day tomorrow, as well."

"You know your father will be waiting for you, Franz. You cannot make The Dove your new home."

"Stranger," Franz looked around Matej to Sina, "I am in my thirties. Do you think a man in his thirties still needs his father?"

Matej faintly shook his head and without another comment, made his way to the back of the shop. Sina heard the dish being scraped and placed down.

"Depends."

"Ah, this is interesting. Why?"

"It depends on the father. Everyone needs their parents but not every parent is deserving of this need."

It took the man a moment to reply and when he did, it was a whisper, "My name is Franz." Sina swore he heard a few of the syllables crack. "Franz Kafka." Gesturing to the seat across him, he nodded. "Please. Tell me more."

As Sina took the offered seat, the storm grew worse. Snow piled high and the wind blew it around like confetti. "Let's just say I hate my father."

"Why?"

"He's terrible. He hates me and I hate him. That's the short version."

"We have that in common. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Fair enough. I struggle discussing mine, too." Filling his wine glass, Franz handed it to Sina. "Drink, friend."

Sina reached for the offered wine. He took a few large gulps before setting it down. "I need this. Thanks."

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Sina Noir."

"You're not from here, are you?"

Sina shook his head. "Just visiting."