Your Mark on Me

Chapter 2: An innocent lunch

The café was indeed very close. We just crossed the street and very soon we were sitting at a table for two, browsing the short menu. It was great timing: through the large window next to our table, I could see some of the people outside opening their umbrellas.

Despite the weather, the café remained almost empty. From where we were sitting we could barely hear any chatter, just the occasional sound of the coffee machine against the quiet background music, an instrumental version of the "Girl of Ipanema". It almost seemed like an ad-hoc date, except we were incredibly mismatched: him, in his tailored three-piece suit, me, wearing jeans, my old cardigan and sneakers, munching on some free tea biscuits that were on the table, which seemed to help alleviate the hunger.

Also, it most definitely didn't feel like a date. Not judging by the condescending way he talked to me, just like one would talk to the children of a distant aunt at a family gathering.

"You drink coffee?" he asked after we ordered, as if the fact surprised him.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I not?"

"I don't know. I imagine you'd normally go for something like hot chocolate. Plus, you were feeling dizzy just now." 

"I'm not a kid."

On his wrist, an expensive-looking watch was ticking away. For a brief moment, I found myself staring at the tiny white line counting the seconds.

"How old are you then, if you don't mind?"

"Twenty-one".

The man chuckled. That should've irritated me — for some reason I really wanted him to take me seriously — yet I couldn't help but acknowledge that he had a very pleasant sounding laughter. 

"You're lying. I bet you're not even sixteen." His gaze lingered on my face. "Maybe not even fifteen."

I gave him an outraged look. "Actually, I'll be sixteen next Saturday!"
The most condescending, "oh-that's-cute" smile I'd ever seen pulled at his mouth. I pouted, embarrassed and angry that I'd given myself out so easily.

"Sixteen is a lovely age, you know, I wish I were sixteen again. Are you doing anything nice for your birthday?"

"Actually, no. Mom has to go to a conference, so we'll have to postpone the celebration until she comes back. And Chloe, my best friend, is ditching me to go camping with her new boyfriend. I'm so mad at her! I mean, what kind of friend would do that, right?"

I blushed, realizing that I was getting too worked up. He probably didn't care to hear about Chloe and her betrayal, or my mom, or any detail of my life really; he was just making small talk.

"Did you know there's a Martha Argerich concert at the Kennedy Centre on the day of your birthday?"

"You know about that?"

None of my friends or kids my age at school knew who Martha Argerich was, let alone that she was playing in Washington DC on my birthday!

"Of course. I take it you'll be there too, on Saturday?"

"We waited too long to see if Mom could take the day off. The tickets sold out." 

"Oh. I'm sorry, I have two tickets, but I've already invited someone."

"I'll see her some other time", I said, just so he could stop pitying me.

Our coffees and sandwiches arrived and the conversation lingered while we were both busy with the food. He asked me a few more things, like where I lived and where I went to school. I answered briefly, restraining from asking questions myself, feeling they would have been out of place. When you ask a kid 'how old are you' and 'what do you want to be when you grow up', you don't expect them to return the questions.