Three Means Coffee

47

Makary sometimes wanted to strangle Błażej, he understood what Monika meant when she warned him about how stubborn her cousin could be. He figured out a long time ago that he was the type of person who had to be busy all the time. He thought about it as he stood in line and listened to a customer express his frustration at the cashier because he thought she had thrown the fruit he was buying and had it bruised.

The middle-aged market worker was tired, and her eyes showed deep sadness. Makary was sure she hadn't done anything of the sort, or at least not on purpose, and that the products had simply slipped out of her hand. He would like to stand up for her, but he was overwhelmed by the pressure of the other people in line. As if they were whispering in his ear that he had to hurry up, that he was shopping so much, evaluating what he put on the tape. He limited his relationship with cashiers to good morning, thank you, goodbye. He thought that Błażej also made extra money in the shop and wondered if there were those who also took it out on him.

He watched as the cashier smiled softly despite everything and apologized to the customer, who became even angrier as if demanding to be begged for forgiveness on his knees. He began to demand the manager, insult the woman, suggesting that she was too stupid even for such a simple job. She listened to it, unable to defend herself. He could hear customers whispering behind him that the guy was overreacting, but they all had their heads down. Makary saw tears in the woman's eyes and for a moment he imagined Błażej in her place, then he felt a sudden surge of courage.

"Shut up and go away!" he blurted out in one breath, in a loud voice. "She is a woman who works hard and does her responsibilities. And you're a fool if you can't respect that, and you're also a simpleton and a boor."

The man wanted an answer, but he heard that Makary was supported by other customers. Suddenly, the manager appeared, whom the cashier had called earlier, as he had requested. He also threatened, on leaving, that he would write a complaint against all of them.

"Thank you for interceding," the woman with a higher position turned towards Makary.

"No problem," Makary said quietly, feeling that all the courage he felt a moment ago was leaving him.

"Are you all right? Don't you want me to replace you for a while?"

"No, I can handle it," the cashier answered and started to check out hazel-eyed products.
He tried to pack them efficiently, but he thought of something, seeing fresh, small bouquets of flowers out of the corner of his eye. Admittedly, it was not the season for them, but what stores can't dispatch.

"Is this all for you?"

"No, I'd like these two more bouquets, please," he said, handing her the two most beautiful ones in his opinion.

He paid and handed one to the surprised cashier. He only asked with a smile that she accept him, wishing her a nice day. He was proud of himself as he left the store, not because he had given the woman flowers, hoping it would make her feel a little better, but because he had stood up for her. He was aware that if he hadn't thought about Błażej then, he probably wouldn't have reacted, in public space he couldn't bring out an ounce of self-confidence. He quickened his pace, wanted to tell him about it, to hear his praise and to give him a second bouquet of flowers.

The first year's eyes widened in surprise as Makary handed him a gift with a charming smile. Błażej laughed that he didn't even have a vase and that these were the first flowers he had ever received. He thanked him, and later over dinner he listened to Makary's story.

"I'm glad you were there," replied Błażej and grabbed the hazel-eyed hand, holding it for a moment, as if he wanted to say that, understanding all too well the hardships of this work, thank you for your support.