by
Mehreen Ahmed
coffee
Juliet worked in a cafe up the road. Her pretty smile was
something to see first thing in the morning. But she didn’t know that. She
worked her shifts around the clock, being nice to the lovers of coffee, serving
them, and taking orders. Juliet was stringent with her time, however,
occasionally, she would spare a few moments to chat at the till. That would be
generous on her part. No one knew what went on in her head. No body cared to
find out, what her thoughts were. And that was how it was; strictly
professional.
One morning
a lady by the name of Rita Chowder, a regular at the cafe, came in and sat down
at a corner. It was a quiet morning at the cafe that day. In fact, Rita was the
only customer at the time. She finished her first cup of coffee. Then she waved
at Juliet. And when she came by, Rita asked her for another shot. Juliet
brought it over to her. As she took a sip, Juliet noticed tears. “What’s wrong?” she asked. A frown appeared on her smooth
forehead.
“What do you mean?” Rita asked.
“Are you crying? Are those your tears?”Julia
asked.
“Yes,” Rita said trying to hide them by
lowering her head.
“Why would you be crying?” Juliet
asked.
“Oh it is a long, long story. I think,
I am about to lose my house to the bank?” she answered.
“That’s no good.”
“I have been frugal all my life. Worked
hard and drove second hand beat-up cars. I always dreamt of buying a new car
one day. But that just never happened. I just couldn’t save up enough, always
behind, no matter how hard I worked.
“Oh, no,”
“Turns out, that’s the way it was all
going to be.” Rita concluded.
Juliet
listened with a lot of interest. She felt like doing something for Rita. But
what could she do? How was Rita, to fight the big banks, and the hiking interest
rates? She moved away from her to serve another customer. By the time she came
back, Rita was gone. But she noticed, she left something for her on the table.
It was a card, with her phone number written on it. Juliet picked it up. She
gazed outside through the cafe gates and saw Rita walking away. Juliet thought
whether to keep the card or to get rid of it. Clients came and went, everyday,
but who cared about their stories. Something told her to keep it. She tucked it
away in her apron pocket. When she looked again, she saw the last of her floral
dress at vanishing point, behind the garden’s neat hedges.
After work,
that night Juliet retuned to her two-bed apartment, she shared with another
girl. She went straight to shower, and wrapped herself with a dressing gown
afterwards. They ate some pasta together, which her room-mate cooked, and they
both sat down in front of the television. Over dinner, Juliet muttered
something which her room-mate didn’t understand. Her name was Kate.
“Was there something you said?” she
asked.
“Yes, I was speaking to a customer this
morning and she was saying that she may lose her house to the bank.”
“Really? Can she not pay her mortgage
anymore?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Juliet
answered.
“That would be really awful.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t it?
“Do you want to buy a house someday?” Kate
asked.
“Me? Ha! Funny you ask. I’m even lucky
to pay my rent.” Juliet smiled.
Kate noted
a sarcasm in her voice. She added,“Or get hitched with a rich guy.”
They both
laughed, and finished dinner. They watched the news and saw what the banks were
doing and have been doing to their clients. After the news finished, they rose
from their chairs, with the plates and dumped them in the sink. Juliet said
goodnight to Kate and went to bed. She had an early shift next day. She
didn’t
go to sleep right away. It bothered her that people like Rita, had to suffer.
She thought only people in the developing world suffered like this. She didn’t
understand the economics of it at all. However, she took her dairy out of the
bedside table drawer and began to write. Most were her own ramblings. But she
also penned down Rita’s predicament. It hadn’t dawned upon her entirely, until
now that how many people were out there, who tirelessly put uncountable hours
into work, for negligible returns. What was it in the end, if they couldn’t
even own one house in retirement or drive a brand new car? What was it? Was
anything worth? That people had to pay back double, even triple with interest
on the principle they borrowed from the banks? That it would take four
generations if not more, to pay back. Was it even fair? Juliet contemplated on
a lot of questions, but no answers. She didn’t know when she fell asleep.
In the
morning, when she woke up, she had a new resolution. She wanted to smell the
sweetness of spring in all its freshness. She wanted to make money, travel,
purchase a house, drive brand new cars. Live it up! After all, she lived in a
first world country, and she should be entitled to those world class benefits.
On her way to the cafe, she went to the news agents to buy a copy of the Sydney
Herald. She turned the pages to shares and bonds.
Investing
in shares and bonds was the way to go. At twenty-five, she figured it out. She
must tell Rita, too, if she were to save her house. Juliet thought of using her
small savings to invest the lot in shares. She was going to buy blue chips. On
lunch-break, she went and researched some more to learn about long-term
investments; the rises and the falls of share markets. Windfalls, make quick
money, while improbable, was not impossible. She called her brokers, and
invested all her savings into a diversified portfolio. She felt almost jubilant
that she was not going end up like Rita. Where was Rita anyway? She didn’t come today. Thoughts about Rita
distracted Juliet at work. She expected her to walk in through those gates.
After work,
Juliet gave Rita a call. Her mobile was switched off. She was just a client in
the cafe, who came for a regular caffeine shot. Juliet didn’t even know where she lived or
anything about her. But she wanted her to know that there was a way out. If
Juliet could sell and buy shares wisely, she could end up with a little pot of
gold. That night, she came back from work. It was her turn to cook dinner. She
turned on the TV, and took an onion to slice. She must follow the market
closely. On the news, an accident was reported. A body was found washed up by
the local river bank. Most likely, it was suicide. A name was also released,
Rita Chowder. ‘What?’ Juliet was devastated. The knife fell from her hand, and
the onion rolled off the cutting board. Rita was no relative, hardly even a
friend. But Juliet felt she was so much more. There was almost a bonding.
Juliet was
not sure now. This was puzzling. Her breathing, short and shallow, she
struggled to accept this. She had to sit down. The perfect rainbow that she had
been dreaming, suddenly took a bad turn and it transpired into something she
didn’t
think about. This other side of it, she wasn’t sure of. She saw the same
rainbow, but in a different light. She saw its reflection on the water. Under
wrinkled water, it didn’t look so perfect, but broken along the edges of the
arch. That night she could not eat dinner, but went to bed straightaway. A fresh
start in the morning, this new day, should bring a refreshing new perspective,
she hoped. And coffee shots to give those moods a false high.
It took her good many months for a return on her
investments. It wasn’t until the winter months two years on that Juliet was
able to sell her shares and turn in a profit. Over the months of July and
August, she sold all her shares. And was able to double her savings. Juliet
wanted to travel. She wanted to visit the USA. What a lark! No broken wings!
This lucky girl was a survivor.
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