NOT EVERYTHING IS LIKE IT SEEMS - short story

March 25th,2019

story from the book: NOT EVERYTHING IS LIKE IT SEEMS Life-written Fairy Tales for Adults

by Katarzyna Nowocin-Kowalczyk (Catherine)

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An exclusive hotel in Beverly Hills. A friend invited me to a private concert of a well-known artist. We met earlier to have dinner and talk. And we never lack common, interesting topics. We are sitting sit at a table and to the sounds of gentle live music from the piano standing nearby, we are enjoying really good coffee. At some point, the friend receives an important phone call from his business partner who has just flown in from London and is staying at the same hotel. My friend apologizes and goes out to the lobby for a moment to say hello to him. He had warned me before that such a situation could happen, so I accept it with understanding.

At the next table, also with a cup of coffee, there is an attractive, well-groomed woman with Asian features. She may be about forty-something years old. She looks like she's waiting for someone or something. You can see that she is a bit tense. Our eyes meet. We exchange smiles.

"You have a very beautiful accent," she says in English with a Californian accent. Her voice sounds pleasant, while the way of speaking and gestures indicate a person with education and manners.  “I love it. Can I ask where you are from?”

“I am Polish.”

“Really? I heard that Poland is a beautiful country. Two years ago, my boyfriend and I were in Europe. We visited several countries, but we did not reach Poland, although we had plans. We ran out of time. We were in Prague. It’s so beautiful there.”

Americans often think that once they have reached Prague it means that they know Central and Eastern Europe. They talk about the Prague Castle, Charles Bridge, the Old Town, Visegrad Hill, delicious dumplings, and delicious beer. The Czechs are indeed great at selling themselves... And I, too often, can't help but to say that Prague was not destroyed during the Second World War, as Warsaw and—depending on the situation and the interlocutor—I start my shorter or longer stories about beautiful Poland and its difficult, albeit very interesting history.

For a moment we talk about Europe and the places she has visited. Of course, I invite her to Poland and, as it is usually in similar situations, for a moment I become an ambassador of my country. My interlocutor actually turns out to be an educated woman. She tells me that although she graduated from a prestigious university with a degree in history of art, which is still her passion, she does something completely different. Together with her boyfriend they run an elegant restaurant and are just planning to open another one. I am a cultural expert by education, and my first diploma was in hotel and restaurant management, so a thread of understanding is established between us very quickly. I invite the woman to my table. We engage in conversation, and the muse Klio spreads her protective wings over us. We are so absorbed in ourselves and our subjects that we do not notice when my Friend appears at the table. We start laughing when he suddenly pops up next to us, like from under the ground.

I introduce them. The woman gets up and tactfully wants to return to her table. We invite her to stay, though. We still have some time before the concert starts. My friend orders a bottle of good Californian Cabernet. Despite the interesting conversation, the fact doesn’t escape our attention that the new acquaintance, although she tries very hard to control it, still seems excited about something, and at the same time a bit distracted and tense. Finally, I say:

“Sorry to ask, but did anything happen? You look like you're waiting for something you're afraid of.”

 A surprised look and a moment of silence. You can see a thought on her face—to say, to throw it out of yourself, or not?  After all, we are strangers to her. But it has been known for a long time that it is easiest to talk in front of strangers. Strangers do not judge, and the heart gets lighter. All the more so because we may never meet again. The woman reaches for the bulbous glass and drinks a sip of red liquor.  As if she wanted to gain time.

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