Now, how did it all begin?
Right, from the chair at the corner, that’s how it all started.
Well to be precise nothing really started, it wasn’t even an affair, but something did in fact happened, a story perhaps.
It was a Friday night, at La Lumiére. Around eight o’clock. They never screen on time, they’re always about 30 minutes late.
I arrived early anyway.
It was crowded that night, I bought a beer at the little stand they set up and sat at a chair on the right side of the corner, and waited, before the documentary finally screened.
People were talking around me, but there was no one I knew that came tonight. So I sat there quietly, with my notebook open and my pen in hand. I was trying to write down the faces of people around me.
You see, I study anthropology, so I try to do ethnographic work whenever I can. Tonight, people seem very merry. The beer bottles were clinking, there were a few other people who came alone, but there were also lots of conversation going on.
Most people were young, in their late twenties, but there were also a few married couples tonight, perhaps from Afghanistan.
I was scribbling down words in my notebook when I heard a quiet voice behind me.
“Is anyone sitting here?”
A small Asian girl, a bit frightened. I smiled and shook my head, so she took her coat off and sat next to me.
Why this seat? She was late, most seats were taken, it’s a full house today. But there were still a few seats in front, much better seats in fact. Why take a seat at the back corner? Perhaps she was too shy to walk up? She came alone, we didn’t talk to each other and she begin scrolling her phone (which was evidently too big for her hands) while waiting for the documentary to screen.
Finally, they’ve begun to screen, and the awkward silence that hang between us ended. I don’t know why I didn’t bother to speak to her, not even a word. Perhaps it was because she was waiting for something from me. I could feel it.
Yet she seemed so frightened, by everything.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that I came so early in vain. Despite the liberty I had in choosing a seat, I’ve chosen the wrong one. The chair was too low, it was lower than the seats in front. I could barely see the subtitles, which was a problem, because the documentary was in Persian.
I wasn’t the only one with the problem, the girl next to me suffered from the same inconvenience. But she had the advantage of being a girl, if she couldn’t see the film, it was because she was too short. Throughout the film both of us dodged from left to right and from right to left, depending on the seating position of the people in front. I was a bit annoyed. Why wouldn’t I be? I came early to find a seat, one at the back corner, to have peace. Yet this girl came and insisted on sitting next to me, on the seat that separated me from my corner, and became complicit in our effort to read the subtitles.
She sat on her knees throughout, to add a bit of height. It was a very beautiful film, too bad I couldn’t enjoy it peacefully.
I took a last sip of the beer I bought from the glass; it was no longer cold enough. I felt disgusted by the taste. There was a fifteen-minute break after one and a half hour of the documentary, during which the director handed out a survey for us to fill.
This documentary is only the first cut, it is still subjected to change.
I took my pen out from my back pocket, and as soon as I leaned in front I heard a voice behind me again.
“Do you have another pen?”
It was the girl again.
Poor girl, already frightened. She does not know how much annoyed I was, if she knew she was the cause of it!
Yet, weirdly, it wasn’t until then that I realized she is the cause of it. What was it about her that annoyed me? Her quietness? Her frightened figure? Or perhaps her sitting between my corner and I? What was it about her that disturbed my peace? The courage she mustered to utter a sentence to me, to be seated next to me, to ask for my pen!
That was it, it was her fear and her courage, and her choice to direct those two contradictory emotions at me.
Who is she, this Asian girl? A mysterious oriental girl, not yet 20. Perhaps she’s Chinese? But possibly not from China, she spoke perfect English. Yet her fearful way of talking could only resemble those fresh to the West. She must’ve spent a considerable time in Asia.
I wish I could write all this down in my notebook with my pen, but I promised her my pen once I’m done with the survey. I didn’t say a word when I handed her my pen, only a smile, another smile, like the one I threw at her when she asked if the seat next to me was taken.
And once again she was the one who broke the silence. She also threw a little smile at me, and a light “thank you.” She seemed so frightened, but why bother?
She said another thank you when she returned my pen. My pen, which was entirely mine, is now once shared with her. My space, the space that I thought will offer me peace, is also shared with her. Twice she inquired for my permission to intrude onto my possession, and twice I gave her my permission, yet there was still no words transmitted between us. Once again they were late to start the documentary, the break must have been longer than twenty minutes. For at least ten minutes we sat in silence, she once again begins scrolling her phone, I did the same.
She wore green trousers that day, so did I. I think she was also wearing a green sweater. I couldn’t have brought myself to write it down at that moment. Her eyes, although shy in hiding, were observant. I’m sure it couldn’t have escaped her gaze.
Finally the lights went off and the film reel was running again. The last hour was the same as the first one and a half, we tilt our heads from left to right and from right to left, until the documentary was finally over.
There was a Q&A session with the director at the end, it was already pretty late, around twelve I think. Emma texted me, she wanted to know if I’m going to the party tonight, it was a Friday night.
Many of the older couples asked interesting questions, the girl next to me seemed especially interested. I would’ve stayed, but my peace was already disturbed (and for far too long), and Emma was waiting for me to go with her to the party.
I waited for the director to finish answering the question before leaving my chair, the chair that I choose yet failed to offer me peace. On my way to the door, I could feel her gaze following me out.
What is it that she wants from me?
