I went to the restaurant one day in a pretty bad shape. I felt like I was on the edge; the inside of my head tensed up from all the things that went south that week. All I could think about was giving myself an ample time to calm down in solitude. I guessed it simply made sense to do so. And so what happened next was totally out of my foresight.
"Meeru?" I heard someone called my name. "You okay?"
I lifted my face and found a man standing in front of my jade table. I knew him for quite a long time already, but as I traced down my memory, I realised that I hardly talked to him. It was not surprising that we stumbled upon each other there, though. I heard he often roamed around the area.
"Handa," I gave him a slight nod while flashing a polite smile. I must have been looking pretty ghastly that he could see through my emotional state at a glance. There was no point in hiding something that was so obvious, so I plainly replied comme ci comme ça.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked.
I would normally (and harshly) decline such a request, but there was this inexplicable gravity pulling me into saying that I did not mind. The next thing I knew, he took a seat across mine, and we talked for hours.
It never crossed my imagination that I would pour my heart out to a familiar stranger. It was even more shocking to learn that this very person could relate to the topics I brought onto the table, just the way I could to the ones he shared. Our conversation that afternoon continued and expanded as if they were the most natural courses to unfold. Instant connection was made at such a bizarre hour—so bizarre it was almost surreal.
For a brief moment in time, I forgot that I was supposed to sit alone, and that I would typically be irritated finding the jade table randomly occupied. What happened was the contrary. On all the subsequent occasions in which he already took the table, I just casually approached him every time and asked the question he threw at me the first time: whether or not he cared for some company. I would then join him and discuss some philosophical concepts, or sometimes random subjects, such as how intricate the details of the ceramic tea set served by the waiter that day, and how it was capable of harmoniously accentuating the jade table's beauty.
As I made a beeline for the last train that night, it struck me that despite its hard-to-believe plot, the entire circumstance was highly alarming. Would the jade table be fine? Would it be sturdy enough to be in service for two? Why did it feel so unsettling to see someone there at that very hour?
The universe might have noticed my wariness, for much to my dismay, it nonchalantly manifested itself. I arrived at the usual place the day after only to find that my favourite table was broken. So out of the blue. Cracks were visible on its surface, overshadowing the fine pattern I always adored. As I watched the sight in front of me in horror, other regular guests nearby were kind enough to fill me in on what I had missed.
"Someone just came and smashed the table with hammer, then left."
I frowned in disbelief. "I beg your pardon? How could someone just come and smash this particular table then leave?"
"We know it's hard to digest, but it really happened," said a lady in black, who claimed to have witnessed the whole fiasco. She and her friends stared at me apologetically. "We are very sorry."
A picture flashed on my mind—a man gone completely haywire, outrageously digging his hammerhead into the table, sending tiny fragments of green stone flying around everywhere. The aftermath was not pretty. I could see a huge dent on the center of the round table and miserable debris on the chairs surrounding it. I cried realising that my jade table for two would never be the same as it was before. I never sat there again ever since.
There were plenty of other tables in the lively establishment that I selected over the next couple of months. The big ones, most of the time. I shared them with some other people, so that more conversations could take place. Sometimes Handa was present among the crowd. For some reason, he stopped taking a seat at that jade table in the corner, too, though it was still functional after the staff cleaned up the mess.
A stupid debate over how people shall install their toilet paper rolls was heating up over my howlite high table. I almost choked on my purin hearing the slapstick-material arguments that my friends threw to each other. Just as we laughed, I stole a glance at the jade table. I wondered how it was doing, and whether or not I would ever pay it another visit. I knew in my heart that I shall not dread the table forever.
The next day, I went closer to the jade table after so long. It looked surprisingly normal. The table remained the same, even with the cracks and all. It was, no matter what, my beautiful safe haven.
"Would you like to take this table, Miss?" a waiter courteously asked me as I traced my fingers along the table's side. I nodded to her question.
"Please be seated," she gestured me to the chair, then put down a menu book and rearranged the flower vase in front of me after I made myself comfortable. "Will you be expecting some company?"
"Interesting question," I smiled calmly. "We'll see about that."
The waiter left after receiving my order. I relaxed on my seat and savoured the moment; me finally sitting at the table again, feeling the flowing lifestream that the jade radiated, reminiscing about all the têtê-à-têtê I had.. it had truly been a while. I felt like I wanted to be alone, but deep inside, I kinda looked forward to having Handa there to pick up where we left off.
Until then, I would just wait and enjoy my own company, at this jade table for two.
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