A Cup of Water and a Rose

A Cup of Water and a Rose

‘Hello?’ a young man answered.
‘Hi Alex, it’s me!’ the caller declared, anticipating a heart-warming response.
‘…Tsubaki?’
‘Yes! I’m in London now. At Heathrow.’
‘What? I can’t hear you. Where are you?’
‘I flew from Japan and I am in London now!’
‘What? Why? What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you, of course.’ Tsubaki giggled. ‘Where are you?’
‘What? I’m out… with my girlfriend.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Yeah. I have a girlfriend now.’ His words became agitated.
‘Since when?’ Tsubaki’s expectant tone turned to one of interrogation.
‘Since… for a couple of months now. ’
‘I didn’t know.’ She played innocent.
‘What?’ Desperate for a glimmer of logic, his question came out aggressively. ‘You’re the one who broke up with me. I have a new girlfriend now.’
‘But Alex, I came all the way to see you.’
‘I didn’t ask you.’
‘I worked hard to save―.’
‘Hey, I have my life too, you know. You can’t just fly here because you want to.'
‘But…’
‘I gotta go.’
The connection went dead. The duration of the call glowing briefly on the phone’s screen marked the end of the call. Tsubaki stood still with her mobile phone in hand in the busy Heathrow Airport.
Tsubaki stared hard at the screen with a furrow in her brow. Her head sea-sawed and tilted to the side weighed down by the new questions rapidly multiplying in her mind. Her wandering eyes looked for anything to help her adjust to this new conceptual reality that she had just been forced into. All she could see was an alien world, where she had once made her life had become a place of fear and isolation. Her eyes settled on her passport and the return ticket back to Japan, still grasped in her now white-knuckled hand. ‘What do I do now?’ Tsubaki asked herself in a half-whisper.
Her attention was jostled back to her surroundings as men in smart suits and backpackers bumped into her, offering the appropriate platitudes. They passed her by, each with destination in mind. Alone in a maze of people she thought to herself, ‘What am I doing here?’ Just as tears were about to surge from her eyes, something familiar caught her attention. A red phoenix, matching the one on her ticket. ‘Home!’ she thought. She spurred herself onward, speeding across the airport, weaving between the itinerants in her way to reach the Air China service counter.
‘Excuse me,’ she blurted hastily. ‘I need to get home a.s.a.p. Can I get a flight back home, like now?’
The counter attendant raised her hand signalling her to stop. ‘Ma’am, I will help you after this lady, when it’s your turn.’
‘No no, you don’t understand. I’m in a great hurry. I really have to get home now.’
‘I understand. But kindly wait your turn please.’ The counter attendant diverted her attention back to the customer she had been serving.
Digging her teeth into her lip, Tsubaki tried to be patient.
‘Next please.’ The counter attendant waved her over.
Tsubaki shuffled to the counter. Her words jumped out. ‘I need to get a ticket back home a.s.a.p. Please get me a flight back home now.’
The counter attendant moved back. ‘Okay… where’s your home? ’
‘Japan.’ Tsubaki handed the attendant her ticket.
‘And this is your return ticket?’
‘Yes.’ The counter attendant studied the date. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. But you can’t change the date with this ticket.’ She gave an apologetic frown. ‘The dates are fixed. You agreed when you bought this ticket, that you wouldn’t be able to change the date.’
‘Isn’t there any way I can change the date?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘But I really have to go back home now…’
‘Well, if you update your seat for two-hundred pounds, you could take the next available flight.’
‘I don’t have that much money.’
‘Then, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m sorry ma’am.’ Her pandering tone vanished and was replaced with a cheerful greeting as another customer stepped up.
Tsubaki pivoted around and stared at the floor. ‘I can’t believe this. What will I do for another nine days?’ Panic overtook her. Her hand snatched the mobile phone from her pocket. Scrolling down the list of contacts, she quickly found his name. Alex. She pressed ‘Call’. A recording announced, ‘the person you called is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.’ Tsubaki started to record the voicemail, fumbling her words, hoping to retrieve the care that Alex once had for her. ‘Ah…hi Alex, it’s Tsubaki again. Um…I’m stuck here for eight days. I don’t have anywhere to stay. I don’t have money. I don’t know what to do. I can’t call you much as it’s very expensive and I’m near my monthly limit. Please call me back.'
She ended the call and stared at the screen until the light went off. Her gaze moved to the pedestrians surrounding her. They all moved in a particular direction signposted by an arrow and the word ‘Underground’. ‘Piccadilly line… Piccadilly Circus. I might as well go there… at least it’s familiar.’ She began to run the course pre-programmed in her memory; first into a lift, onto the moving sidewalk and into the tube station. At the ticket machine she pulled out her wallet. She slid her fingers inside it, fishing for the lone ten pound note nestled between the two twenty pound notes within. She cringed as her sole means of living was eaten by the ticket machine and sighed as the machine spit back her old Oyster card at her. Stepping onto a train, she was whisked off to the West End.
The announcements over the tube’s PA system made her feel at home, connecting the dots between her present and her past making her feel briefly as though she had never left. Thoughts of Alex beset her and despair set in. She took out her phone. With the press of a button, the screen lit up. There were no missed calls. ‘What am I gonna do? I don’t have any friends. I don’t have money. I can’t even afford a place to stay.’
The driver announced Piccadilly Circus station and Tsubaki sprung from her seat in Pavlovian response. She charged out of the carriage, eager for anything familiar. Stepping out to the surface, her feet started to follow her old inner compass pointing northwest. On a backstreet, she spotted the universally recognisable symbol of her favorite café. She looked in through the window and was overjoyed that it had not changed. A barista, wearing a puzzled look on her face, began to move across the café directly towards the window. She rushed to the entrance door and pulled it open.
‘Tsubaki!’ the girl’s eyes opened wide as the word burst from her mouth. ‘What are you doing here? ’ She stood aside, holding the door and gestured for Tsubaki to enter. ‘Come in.’ Tsubaki stepped inside.
‘Michelle…’ a sudden urge of her emotion welled up within her. The two old classmates reunited with clasped arms. Releasing the embrace, Michelle stared into Tsubaki’s eyes and followed them as they filled with tears and became downcast.
‘What are you doing here? I thought you were in Japan.’ Michelle asked.
Rubbing her eyes, Tsubaki replied in a trembling voice. ‘I…I came here to surprise my boyfriend… well, my ‘ex’ boyfriend.’
‘Alex?’
Tsubaki nodded. ‘I thought we’d work it out once I came back here, you know?’ A torrent of tears gushed forth.
‘What happened?’
Stirring the inside of her bag on a quest for tissue, Tsubaki answered. ‘He has a girlfriend now. I thought he loved me…I thought he would wait for me.’
‘Oh… Tsubaki.’ Michelle patted the top of her stooping head. ‘Why don’t you have a seat over there, in the corner? I finish early today. We can talk.’
Tsubaki dragged herself to the corner of the café. She filled with questions. ‘What am I doing? Why did I come here? What will I do now?’ She checked the screen of her mobile phone. Her thoughts kept flowing out. ‘Alex doesn’t even care about me. I’m worthless. No one loves me,’ she knocked her head, ‘because I’m this stupid.’
Sitting in her own disparagement with her hands cradling her mobile phone in between her thighs, Tsubaki didn't notice Michelle’s return. ‘Tsubaki, I’ve finished. Where are you staying tonight?’
Startled, Tsubaki straightened herself. ‘Um…I don’t have a place to stay…I can’t afford anywhere.’
‘Oh, why don’t you stay at my place? My flatmates won’t mind.’
‘No, I can’t do that.’
‘Sure you can. Come on,’ she grabbed her by her arm. ‘Let’s get something to eat first.’
‘Michelle… I don’t really have much money.’
‘How much do you have?’
‘Um…around forty pounds.’
‘That’s it? You know you can’t really do much here, right? How long are you staying?’
‘Nine days. I couldn’t exchange my ticket for an earlier date.’
‘I don’t really have much to help you either, I’m afraid.’
‘No, no! I’ll be fine. I’ll find something from Tesco.’
‘Okay… let’s walk there and see what you can get.’

Tsubaki woke up early before Michelle and her flatmates. Taking out the water bottle she got on the flight, she filled it with tap water and sneaked out of the flat, not wanting to disturb the others’ lives. As soon as she left the flat, she fumbled in her pocket for her mobile phone. The cold screen stared back at her. She pressed a button bringing up the incoming call history. There was nothing new. She scrolled through the contacts, finding Alex once again and slid her thumb to the ‘call’ button. ‘He’ll call me,’ she told herself then hit the ‘end’ button and slid the phone back into her pocket. Remembering her old life, her itinerary was already made. She knew of only one place she could occupy herself for hours without any cost.
She stepped through the towering entrance of the National Gallery. Once inside, her subconscious took over, supplying a notebook and a pencil from her bag. She was set to sketch away the time and lose herself in timeless two-dimensional worlds. She tramped around from room to room seeking paintings that possessed the powers of enchantment and distraction that she needed. While browsing through Room 30, Tsubaki caught a whiff of an unpleasant odour. Searching for the source, she sniffed at the sharp, savage, stench of sweat and traced it to a bearded man in a crumpled jacket and torn jeans. Glaring at him sideways, she wondered. ‘Why is there a homeless guy in this sophisticated place?’ Standing directly in front of a painting, the man seemed transfixed. Tsubaki swung her eyes between the man and the painting, attempting to comprehend the scene. ‘Weird,’ she whispered under her voice. ‘I have to tell Alex,’ her mind continued. She grabbed her phone and a realisation hit her, making her cry.
The next morning before the visiting hours of the gallery, Tsubaki was leaning against the concrete stairs outside, waiting until the door opened. Her cold hand kept a tight grip of her phone. She checked the time as an excuse. The time was 9:50. ‘Ten minutes,’ she thought, ‘still no Alex.’ The urge to call was irrepressible. It went to voicemail. ‘Alex, it’s Tsubaki. I still have days left, nothing to do. I really want to see you and talk to you. Please call―.’ She was cut off. The limit had been reached. Tsubaki thrust her phone deep into her pocket.
When the door finally opened, she took a step forward with her staunch companions, her notebook and pencil, in hand. She strolled around, looking for the painting of the day, studying faces of figures and landscapes of the past until a pungent waft dispelled her, dragging her out of her colourful trance. ‘That guy again…what is he doing here, really?’ She leered at the same shabby outfit, moving nonchalantly across the room. Seeking to validate this reeking man’s presence, she perused the room. Room 30. It was the room of works by acclaimed Spanish painters. Tsubaki was puzzled even more by the deepening mystery presented by the painting he was gazing at. ‘It’s the same painting again.’
Confounded by the man playing a staring game with the canvas, Tsubaki shifted her attention to the painting itself. A painting of a cup and a saucer with a rose appeared to be the subject of this man’s obsession. Tsubaki could not understand the immense value this man seemed to place on it. Staring hard, she tried to deduce the painting’s meaning and assign some logic to the vagrant. In the days that followed, sketching paintings and observing the ever-present derelict became a welcome diversion, keeping her mind off of her silent phone and empty stomach.
Tsubaki took the last of her daily pilgrimages to the National Gallery. Her stomach growled. She patted it and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, tomorrow we’ll eat on the plane.’ Making a final round of the gallery, she spotted the familiar figure in Room 30. ‘I don’t get it,’ Tsubaki thought. She approached the painting, getting as close as caution allowed. She was still confused. ‘What is it that he sees in this and I can’t?’
Cough, Cough. His cough interrupted his hypnotic state and he noticed Tsubaki’s eyes on him. ‘Oh, sorry. Was I in your way?’ the man asked Tsubaki.
Tsubaki jumped at his unexpected utterance. ‘No, no. Um…I…I was just having a look.’
‘My wife loved this painting.’ The man smiled.
Tsubaki feigned interest, ‘Ahh, right.’
‘She’s dead. But looking at this makes me feel like she’s here with me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too. But the strange thing is that I don’t feel like I lost it. When my house burnt down, I lost my wife and everything. I thought I might as well be dead. But when I was wandering the streets, I ended up here. I saw this again and felt like she’s still here, you know?’
Tsubaki nodded.
‘It’s like this cup and saucer. When you see other paintings here, there are so many saints and heroes. But this painting is just these.’ He pointed at the surface. ‘I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean, but it doesn't matter. I am the cup sitting alone, ordinary and simple, just existing. But then came my wife.’ He pointed at the rose. ‘She made the difference in my life. A small blessing that made me special.’
Tsubaki’s head bounced like a yo-yo while she processed this information.
‘What do you think of this painting?’ the man asked.
Tsubaki utilised her training. ‘Well. I think it’s beautiful and the rose is romantic and I see the wealth of the patron with the silver plate’.
‘Wealth, huh? He could be from a wealthy family but it doesn’t matter too much because he’s still just a cup. Everyone is just a cup. Empty, alone and needing to be filled. Once you’re full, you’ve done your job. Everything else, where you are and what’s around you, is just extra stuff. Just like in life, all you really need is water to survive. But if you’re lucky, sometimes that extra stuff makes life better.
‘Right.’ Tsubaki uttered, to subvert an awkward pause.
‘Well, I’ve talked too much.’ He took one more look at the rose in the painting, smiled and shuffled away.
Alone in the room, she stared at the painting, imitating the man’s daily pose. She pondered. ‘A cup.’ A thought of Alex popped in her head. Scrolling through the option menu, she found his entry. Looking at the canvas before her, she pressed ‘delete’.