Three Means Coffee

23

They made an appointment at the tram stop closest to the library where Błażej was about to go. Makary was faster because he couldn't wait. On Mondays, he was not burdened with any classes at the university, so he usually used this day to sleep and rest before the challenges of the new week. He waited impatiently, his hands nervously tightening on his bag shoulder. He didn't know what it would look like, texting suddenly seemed so much easier.

Finally, he saw Błażej, who quickened his pace when he saw him. He had a bag full of books with him.

"Have you been waiting long? I wanted to get it over with," said the first year. "I do not know the city well, but I asked my cousin if there is a nice cafe somewhere close. She said there was one in one of the side alleys of the old market. They also have good cake. May it be?"

"Sure," Makary confirmed, he would have liked to add 'wherever you want Błażej', but he knew that would be an exaggeration. If only he had the opportunity to listen to his voice, the sound of which he didn't realize he missed so much. He was also thinking about one more thing as they moved forward. He watched as Błażej looked around, trying to discern the way his relative had shown him. Makary hung his head and, a bit embarrassed, addressed him directly by name for the first time.

"Błażej, I wanted to apologize to you," he said and did not allow him to ask what was the reason. "I shouldn't have asked for a picture, I'm sorry if you felt compelled or uncomfortable."

The brown-haired man stopped and turned towards him, staring at him for a moment and weighing the words of his answer. Makary was seized by sudden remorse, but it passed with Błażej's smile.

"As long as you don't use it to ruin my life, that's fine." He shrugged his shoulders. "At most, you will now share some with me, not necessarily in the initial edition from the hands of your beauticians."

Hazel-eyed agreed and breathed a sigh of relief, although Błażej's words filled him with worry, he did not want to bring up some sensitive topic. He wanted their first scheduled meeting to go as smoothly as possible. They walked side by side in silence for some time, Makary holding back a bit, wondering why it was so hard to talk now.

"And how was work yesterday?" asked Błażej, turning towards his companion.

"Not so bad after all," Makary replied, sighing with relief that the burden of conversation had been lifted from him. "But then the boss was looking at my hands all the time."

"What could you have done so wrong?"

"To over-salt or overcook the dish," answered the hazel-eyed deadly serious, which made the first year laugh heartily at the tone of the statement.

"Are you good at cooking?"

"Yes, it's my passion." There were sparks of excitement in Makary's eyes, as in everyone who can talk about something he loves.

Usually, he was the one who listened, and he loved that too, but sometimes he lacked the opportunity to express his own interests. While he felt comfortable talking to his family, usually coping well at work and in dealing with one person, in a larger group, and in public places his introverted nature made itself felt and shyness took over. As a result, he was even more often taken for a snob, handsome but a snob nonetheless.

Makary talked about his favorite dishes and methods of cooking, how he always has to set everything in his own way, and other habits, thanks to which the kitchen was his kingdom and haven at the same time. Błażej asked for details, interested and impressed by the unconventional knowledge that the hazel-eyed man had on this subject. They talked the rest of the way and stayed in the cafe. Makary showed photos of his more successful and less culinary experiments. The less glamorous ones usually involved desserts, which were not his specialty.