The Perfect Coffee E-Book

Chinz

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 139

Beschreibung

Dreams with the scent of coffee are always good dreams.

Leseprobe

„Dreams with the scent of coffee are always good dreams.“

Author

Chinz, born in Cologne 1968, dwells in Varel.

He works as a nurse, lives as a musician and author and describes himself as a melancholy in a good mood.

Released so far:

„Alzagra“, Novel

„Die Brücke“, Crime story

„Fast zu spät“, Novel

„Ruhe sanft“, Crime story

„Die Besucher“, Play

„Jupp“, Novella

„Der perfekte Kaffee“, Novel

„Das Buch der Unruhe des Hilfsmelancholikers Leon Sersoa“, Novel

formy muse

Table of Contents

Prologue

Sip One

Sip Two

Sip Three

Sip Four

Sip Five

Sip Six

Sip Seven

Sip Eight

Sip Nine

Epilogue

Prologue

The young man with the dark hair sat on the table diagonally across from me. In the beginning, I only looked at him because I was jealous. His table stood in the sun, while I was freezing in the shadow on this, for the beginning of July, unusually cold day.

It took me a while to realise why I could not take my eyes off him and why, when he had finished his coffee, felt warm as well.

He had a big pot of coffee and a small jug with milk on his table. Prior to every sip he looked into his cup, added some milk or coffee from the pot, stirred briefly, looked again and adjusted it once more if need be – like a painter, unhappy with the colour or intensity of the painting, adding another layer.

Before actually drinking, he closed his eyes, smelled the coffee and then took, slowly and gently, almost tenderly, a sip. The cup always remained at his lips for a long time and his face would tell a story. Intense emotions of joy, hope, love and happiness.

He seemed to be far away in his thoughts; did not notice anything that was happening around him – not the noisy rattling when the waitress dropped her tray behind him, nor the bawling toddler in the passing pram.

While at first, I had thought he was enjoying an extraordinarily well crafted coffee, by the end of it I understood: He had just emptied a cup containing his entire life. As if the movie we supposedly see before our mind's eye, in the moment of our death, had played for him, while drinking this pot of coffee ...

„To drink up one's life“ – is a less than perfect way to put it, but that is what it felt like, literally. Perhaps because every time I looked at him, I had the feeling that he had grown older. It was either the sun blinding me in the beginning or, while drinking, he had matured by several decades. Actually, sitting there was a man with silver hair and quite a few wrinkles to his face.

What did happen to him, after he had emptied the last sip?

I do not know. I had tried in the meantime to experience something similar while drinking my coke. And while refreshing and sparkling, nothing much happened in my imagination when I closed my eyes – I saw myself sitting in the shadow, shivering and drinking coke.

I looked to the man once more and while he was mixing the colour, this time with so much milk that the coffee had to come out grey or white, I realised my mistake. Slowly I lifted my glass, took a lengthy look at the colour of my lemonade (hoping nobody was watching me doing so), closed my eyes and, slowly and gently, took a sip of the sticky sugar water ...

I was back in art class, on the left behind Susan, whose dark auburn hair actually had a resemblance to the colour of coke, I never had noticed before. Even in my memory the class was sticky as it always had been and just like the drink in my mouth now. But the way I saw Susan this time, serene, in profile, all of a sudden I had a very clear understanding of what a true piece of art really is.

I swallowed the coke, Susan turned around, a cool, refreshing tingling in my throat, a hot, exhilarating shiver on my back.

When I opened my eyes again, he was gone.

The waitress was clearing his pot onto a tray. I quickly looked around, but even in the street he was nowhere to be seen.

For some reason, I harbour the honest belief that, after taking the last sip of his coffee, he had just, no not just, but with a happy and satisfied smile, after a long and fulfilling life, vanished into thin air ...

Sip One

Somewhere in the world the sun was shining.

People were lying on the beach, walking through fields of flowers in full bloom or had a refreshing drink on the patio.

Somewhere in the world the sun was shining right now.

Somewhere ..., far ..., very far away.

Ted turned on the windshield wipers, closed his eyes, annoyed from the squeaking sound, took a deep breath, opened his eyes again, drove the five metres up to the Vauxhall Astra in front of him, stopped and turned off the wipers.

Nothing but rain since Oberhausen, two hundred kilometres left to Hamburg and already four construction sites.

Half a minute later, the Astra drove another twenty metres, before stopping again.

Can I manage such a long journey, or should I rest after the first ten metres?

Ted turned the wiper on again and put the pedal to the metal.

With any other car that would have been overkill, but his Volkswagen bus had considerable trouble to get going up a hill; even on full throttle it bucked heavily.

The wiper blades were squeaking so loudly that there was no enjoyment to be had from listening to music. Ted turned off the tape deck and drove the twenty metres.

This time the VW bus bucked even when he hit the brakes.

Ted was considerably behind schedule. The rest of the band was most likely scrambling into the rehearsal room at this moment and wondering why the guitars and amplifiers had not arrived yet. Without him they would not be able to start and they really needed to practice before the concert tomorrow!

The performance in Munich had been a disaster. They had been playing together for three years now, always the same, original songs, that were not that hard to begin with but still ... Yesterday had been their first time in front of a large audience – almost a thousand people in the venue – and Bernd and Peter had cracked. When drums and bass constantly drop out of the rhythm, there is nothing much that guitar and piano can do.

The Losers would have been a more than fitting band name yesterday. It was one of the names up for discussion when they first got together; in the end though, they had settled for The Flying Dishes.

Tomorrow, in Hamburg, they expected over two thousand spectators, among them some professional critics, maybe even a record label executive ... their big break.

Finally, smooth sailing. But now the VW bus was bucking even while travelling an even road.

Ted once again turned on the cassette tape with the demo of a new song, that he was going to show to the others in a moment. The melody had been stuck in his head for ages, the lyrics not so much.

He still needed a fitting comparison for the last verse.

Her hair as auburn as Madagascar ebony wood ...

That of course was only a temporary version. He actually had never met anyone, who was familiar with the typical dark brown, almost black hue of Madagascar ebony wood. It did not rhyme and in no way fit the rhythm. But it was after all Julia's hair colour, his first girlfriend, to whom the song was dedicated.

Hazard lights in front of him, again ... the next traffic jam. Ted shook his head in frustration. For some reason he had thought that hardly anybody lived up north and those few who did either drove their tractors far from the motorway or were already at home at this hour.

Police and ambulance passed him by on the emergency lane but other than that there was no movement.

A little while later another ambulance and a fire truck. Apparently a severe accident, possibly complete closure. Without much success Ted tried to find a radio station reporting traffic news, or to be more precise, to find any radio station.

Several cars passed him by on the emergency lane. There had to be an exit ahead.

Ted took his road map from the glove compartment. This would be a major detour, through several, to him completely unknown villages, but much more preferable than standing around here for what could easily be another few hours.

The country road kept going for, what felt like twenty kilometres, when finally the first actual turn came up and a short way after that ... the street was closed for construction work!

Shit! Brown like shit!

Two alternative routes were signposted, one to the right, one to the left, both to places he did not know ... His map was old, the light in the bus could hardly be called one and the rain had become heavier. Street names were unreadable.

Some country road, somewhere in Ostfriesland, torrential rain, thunder and lightning.

Ted closed his eyes for a moment, asked his instincts who just shrugged in uncertainty.

Ted took the left turn into a bumpy, unlit way. A sign warned him of roadway damage.

The VW bus and the potholes duked it out for several kilometres, who could produce the stronger bucking, until the bus gave up, not just the competition – it was no longer bucking ..., in fact, it was not doing much of anything anymore. Ted floored the pedal, but the engine died, and the bus rolled for another few metres and then just sat there.

Nothing.

Where was he? Somewhere in no-man's-land.

No town. Anywhere.

A blinding flash of light immediately followed by a deafening bang. The lightning bolt had split a tree only about fifty metres from where he was sitting. Under other circumstances an impressive display. But Ted was only thinking of the headline of this morning's newspaper:

Not all vehicles safe in a thunderstorm!

He actually had not read the article itself.

He was scared.

Five minutes later the storm had passed, and the rain started to let up. Ted got out and opened the bonnet. He took one look in the engine bay and shrugged. What had he expected? He had no idea whatsoever of cars, had never even changed a tyre or oil in his life. There seemed to be an engine, possibly, something in the dark that looked like it.

He slammed the bonnet shut. Even if he had had an idea ... It was pitch black, he did not have a torch and the rain was picking up again. He sat back in the bus; the windows fogged up in a matter of seconds.

Ted took his guitar and played the new song.

Brown like shit even fit the rhythm. Although it did not quite fit the initial intentions he had had for the song.

Ted put the guitar aside and looked at his watch. Right about now rehearsals should have started. He had an inkling about what the others were saying about him at this moment.

The atmosphere had been tense for weeks.

The words „break-up“ had not yet been uttered by any of them but Ted was sure that he was not alone in having thought about it. It was likely that the others would prefer to go on without him. He might have been the founder of the band and had written most of the songs on the first album but the happier, more successful songs from the second were Bernd's.

If Ted was honest with himself, he had lost all will to play with the others, but he saw no alternative.

A solo career? His songs were written for a band, maybe for a nice night around a campfire.

Ted was staring out the window, without noticing that he really was not staring out the window but was merely looking at the fogged up glass ... - it did not make much of a difference, everything outside was grey and wet as well.

Forming a new band would take time; what would he live off and where?

Back to his parents? They would be grateful!

Yes ..., sure ..., they probably would be indeed, but what about himself?

His parents were his past, his mostly unpleasant past. Music was his life but to be able to live off that now seemed more unlikely than ever before. Which was only made worse by the memory of his father telling him so.

Finally some light. The sky was partially breaking open. Every now and then the moon could be seen.

Ted had been standing here for over half an hour but not a single car had passed him by during that time.

He got out. As far as he remembered, there had been no lit houses for the past few kilometres, so he went the other way.

Gone was the rain and in its stead a strong, icy wind had picked up; every now and then lightning in the distance, low rumbling sky.

Ted could not help but think of the split-up with Julia. Then too had he walked home on a cold and dark night, for half an hour through storm and rain.

Only this time not only wouldn't he be home after half an hour; so far he had not even encountered any signs of life in this part of the world.

What if there were not any houses for hours to come?

His clothes were soaked, and he was shaking from the cold.

Go back?

The bus was not offering any warmth either.

Ted went on, without feeling that he made any progress.

The shaking became stronger, his teeth would have chattered if it were not for the fact that he clenched his mouth shut and his thoughts grew increasingly melodramatic:

Is this the end?

With every flash of lightning another memory came to him. If this is my life flashing before my eyes, it is rather sobering. But dying? Just when I thought the great, free life was about to be ... There!!!

Up ahead was a village!

In the brief illumination of another lightning, Ted had spotted the outlines of a church tower. He walked faster.

Twenty minutes later he finally reached an inhabited area. A few dark houses, the church tower could be made out as a shadow and a lit pub.

Ted was only steps away from the Kyffhaus Hut, when there too the lights went off.

No!

Ted ran the last hundred metres to the building. A weak light was still burning within the bar. He knocked on the window until the door was opened a gap.

„Sorry, we're closed!“

„I'm sorry to bother you! My car broke down and I need to use a phone! Would that be possible? Please! I'll be gone the moment I'm done!“

Ted could not make out anything in the dark gap in front of him.

For a moment nothing happened.

„Okay. One moment.“

The chain was pulled from the door and it swung open. A small dark-haired woman, around his age stood in front of Ted and gave him a smile.

„Come on in.“

„Thanks. Thank you very much!“

Ted wiped his muddy shows extensively on the doormat and walked into the bar. All chairs had been turned up onto the tables and the barstools stood on the counter. The young woman sized him up.

„You've been out in the rain for a while now, haven't you? Quite a bit of shit weather we're having today!“

„You can say that again!“ Ted had a hard time keeping his teeth from chattering. „Where is the phone?“

„Behind the bar, on the left. Just dial zero and you're good to go. Do you have any change?“

„Yes. Thanks!“

Ted first called the AA, then had to ask where exactly he was, and even the assistant at the other end had never heard of the place. It would take at least two hours for someone to come out this far. There was much going on today.

Rehearsals were definitely off the table. Ted called his band-mates. A decidedly unpleasant conversation. They would play the concert tomorrow but then they would have to have a serious talk.

Ted leaned his head against the wall.

Live your dream! Ha! This had been his dream. But long before it had the chance to become dreamy the alarm clock of reality rang ...