Capricciosa
A short story about a lonesome
A sign illuminated only half the street in the gray haze. The air was like a heavy slush, exhaust gas mixed with the ridiculously low rain that was barely noticeable but still made everyone soaking wet. She was heading for a pizza place, far from the best in town, but it was well located and was only a few hundred meters from home. She had actually tried to promise herself to start cooking more, but despite an awareness that it would strengthen her body, she still often couldn't think of any culinary recipes and, after work, would fall for the temptation to buy something ready-made. Today was no exception and the choice of pizza clearly fell out of extreme laziness.
She walked slowly up the two high steps of stone. Her foot touched the part of the granite that, despite its hard material, was softly shaped after thousands of feet before hers. She herself was not a person who would notice such a detail, but another person might have. And perhaps such a person would think that it was strange that a material that seemed so hard could be formed by bodies and history.
But again, our character was not such a person at all and she stepped into the room. The humid air from outside was mixed with a warm smoky atmosphere. It smelled strongly of burnt cheese and bread. A couple of other guests in the room hung limp and totally sunk into their mobile phones in different places; along a bar counter, by a wall, half sunken on a chair. It was obvious that they had already placed their orders and now used the time with various unsocial media.
The man behind the counter looked up and nodded briefly as she stepped inside. She answered barely noticeably and had her eyes lifted to the menu above him. She already knew what she was going to have, she had ordered the same pizza all her life, but a feeling of unease meant that she always looked at the menu for a while before nervously stepping forward towards the counter.
The pizza baker looked up again and she said, “A capricciosa”. She didn’t say thank you, she had never done it and never would. And the pizza baker didn't seem to think the order was made in any unusual way either. Everything was in order. But then she added, “Without mushrooms”. The man looked up again, hummed something, and returned to pouring cheese on the round pieces of dough that lay before him.
She felt satisfied with her performance and fell into the same pattern as the other guests in the room. She fumbled with her mobile phone. Wanted someone to send a text message right there and then but no one did. She read the news for the fifth time this day already, no new articles had been published. She scrolled various social flows crowded with beautiful and perhaps successful people, dreamed away for a second and then quickly suffered of a deep jealousy. Everyone looked so easily splendid, brave and full of life. Never could she ever become such a being no matter how much she tried. At some point, she had thought it might be best to delete some of those apps but she had never had the power to implement it. She had not had the power to accomplish much at all in her life.
The minutes passed, some people got their hot pizza boxes and left the room. Others came and took the positions of the ancients and dived into their external worlds. Everything followed a normal pizzeria's cycle.
Once again, one would imagine that an attentive person in the room could have philosophised about life and pizzas. It was obvious to look at the whole situation just like that. In just a few square meters, small universes were crammed for the same reason. They lacked some vital energy during this particular moment. They wanted to buy themselves free, wanted to take a shortcut from something that felt too difficult. One might wonder what fate these people met. Certainly, there was something behind every waiting look that could tell a story. But unfortunately for our story there was no such philosophising person at this very moment in this room.
Then finally, the pizza baker said loud and clear, “Capricciosa!” She stepped forward and saw him lift the pizza with the shovel from the oven down into the cardboard box. During the short time it took for the pizza to change position, she realised that her desire to not get any mushroom was either not perceived or consciously not met.
She hesitated a little, but her revelation revealed nothing as she received the box. Somewhat annoyed she turned her heels and walked out of the room without saying goodbye.
Back on the street, she began to think about what options she had. She hated when things didn't turn out the way she planned, and this was definitely not programmed in her own way. She had been looking forward to going home with her pizza peacefully. Take off her jacket and shoes, trot out in the kitchen and pick up cutlery and a glass of water, then sink heavily into the sofa and watch some home décor program while stowing in her supper. Now that wasn’t going to happen and she felt the irritation was about to turn into anger. Why was it so difficult for someone to listen to an order properly? Why would this happen to her? She really just needed a perfect evening.
Anger began to warm her body. How could people be so stupid? She wished she lived somewhere where this kind of episode would not occur. She thought that there must be places where you as a customer get what you pay for. Besides, it was also a quite expensive pizza!
She wanted to call someone and tell them what had just happened to her. She thought about which of her few half-close friends could give more power to her anger and fuel the situation. After pondering for a while, she realised that no one would understand, or at least not fully, the situation she was in. The feeling of being alone in the world with a problem then made her even more desperate.
During this brief sequence of thought, she had moved only a few steps away from the pizzeria. The possibility of going back in was still there. It could have been quite normal, albeit unusual, to step up the worn down stairs and explain the situation. But for a woman like this, there was only one way out. She moved, went fast and firmly. Head high. And, somewhat demonstratively, she folded (and it wasn't easily done) the pizza carton and mashed it into a trash bin that was too small but still left her satisfied. She was reacting and not just accepting an unpleasant situation.
