Cortados and Ceramic Charms

Late afternoon under dim cafe lighting amidst the heaping piles of mismatched pillows found me and my friend spoke in hushed voice. Both of us were regaling each other with our own perspective accounts of what happened the past couple of hours. There was always an easy flow of exchange between us since we both speak the same language of grievances: heavy longing with nowhere to go, loud noticeable absence, frantic hands gripping for non-existent stability, and the taste of loneliness after a long day. Almost three years of close friendship with constant attached-at-the-hips interactions had us practically agreeing with every single opinion that each other had, especially how concerningly overbearing it was to carry things on your own.

We weren't recounting anything gloomy. As a matter of fact, what triggered this interaction was simply something silly.

It was earlier in the day, we were carpooling with our colleague to go to a meeting venue. It was our first time being in his car and I mentioned in passing that my parents were in the process of buying similar kind so this was a great opportunity to experience how it felt riding said car. The car was fairly new, you could tell by the feel of the leather and the interior smell of the car. The scent was unique enough that my friend immediately complimented it to our colleague.

"Your car smells nice like a good cup of matcha." coming from her, this was a high praise since she rarely liked the scent of someone's car.

I nodded along and pointed at a charm-like air freshener that was hanging on our colleague's rearview mirror. He accepted the compliment, explaining to us that it was actually from his fianceé and she got them as a prize from a name brand teahouse. As per usual with new trinkets that fascinated me, my fingers itched to feel the texture, so I asked for his permission to touch it. "I think it was made with ceramics." he remarked, sure enough it was more solid than your average air freshener, but I could tell it was hollow too and thus easier to break.

It didn't take long for me to go quiet, which was pretty unusual for me whenever I rode a car with someone. Oftentimes, I would go on two polarities, sleepy because of the safe space they provide or boisterous. But I was neither. I kept to myself, I would only retort a few words whenever the opportunity arose.

The day went by smoothly with assortments of cortado, salt breads, sate ayam, sop buntut, and sweet treats. Notably—hopefully to everyone there—there was no other crack in my demeanour. It wasn't until that late in the afternoon when I was talking to my close friend the topic progressed naturally about our mutual grievances because of how alone we would be left off after we got home, just staring into the empty black mirror of our devices with only our faces staring back.

There was no lull in our conversation whenever we talk about this; this specific kind of yearning that were decades-old that we both have in common like a matching tattoo forever engraved on our souls. We always tried to find the cure, everything that was to it, about it, and of it had been dissected to its smallest atoms. These almost scientific scrutinization would often only lead us bereft.

For this particular day, we both immediately agreed upon the reason: an ordinary (though uncommon) air freshener charm hanging so casually on the rearview mirror.

“Did you know the first thing that came to my mind after seeing that charm? I thought that if I were with a guy, then his car would be mine too, right? The car would have assortments of my trinkets? His car would be my car.” she exclaimed vehemently after I informed her the reason that I wasn't as talkactive in the car was because I was overwhelmed with the realisation that I was never allowed to claim, that I always had to settle and compromise.

It was hard to argue with that. As two people that had never properly have anything of our own, the act of being greedy enough to claim your lover’s space was your own felt foreign. We were never allowed to be insatiable with our non-materialistic desires. Even now, typing this, I never knew how it felt having someone deliberately let you in and nestle there, making the environment more personalised with my own particular belongings.

This nonchalant thoughtless act of hanging a hard-earned prize on your lover's car rear mirror felt intimate and wordless possession. A gesture so alien to both of us that we wouldn’t help but discuss about it over and over again.

A declaration of I'm here, I'm with you, I'll help you carry through everything throughout the day.