Tea House

***

Lyosha wiped the bar with a familiar motion, until the evening had time to get into full swing. The customers were just starting to arrive, there were only a few people sitting at the tables, and quiet music filled the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. The door opened, and he didn’t even look up — he recognized her by her steps. - As usual? — he asked, while she was sitting down on a high stool. - Yeah, — Natasha nodded, getting comfortable. Lyosha took out a bottle and deftly poured it into her glass. She always ordered something light, tart, with a pleasant bitterness. Natasha came here for the first time almost a year ago — tired, with a thoughtful look, as if she was looking for a place to rest. Now it had become her habit: to drop in on him a couple of times a week, drink slowly, watch people. - How was your day? he asked, leaning on the counter. - As usual, — she chuckled, taking a sip. — Work, a few annoying people… you know. - That’s me too, — he nodded, putting away the empty bottle. They weren’t friends, but they weren’t just a bartender or a customer either. Natasha said he had a “comfortable silence” — a rare quality when you can sit next to each other, exchange a few phrases, but not feel the need to chat for the sake of chatting. Lesha looked at her furtively. She was different from the usual customers. She didn’t come to get drunk, didn’t look for company, didn’t try to flirt. She just came in, drank her own and remained on her island of silence. And he… he didn’t know why he was waiting for her to come. *** Lesha glanced at his watch — there was a little less than half an hour left until closing. The bar was almost empty, except for a couple of tired office workers in the far corner. He wiped his hands on the towel before looking at Natasha again. She sat, as always, with her head slightly bowed over her glass. Lyosha noticed that today she looked more tired than usual. - Listen, do you drink tea? — he asked, leaning on the counter. Natasha looked up at him in surprise. - What do you mean? - Directly, — he chuckled slightly. — There’s a tea house not far from here. I’ve been wanting to go for a while, but I’m kind of lazy alone. Maybe we should stop by after work?” She hesitated a little, slowly swirling the glass in her fingers. This was unexpected. - Are you treating me? — she chuckled, raising an eyebrow. - Of course, — he nodded, taking off his apron. - Then why not, — Natasha finished the rest of her drink and looked at him curiously. The tea house turned out to be small and cozy, with warm light and aromas of different varieties. Lyosha ordered green with jasmine, and Natasha chose spicy black with cardamom. - You know, — she leaned back in her chair, looking at him over her cup, — I didn’t expect you to visit tea houses. - I’m not just a bartender, — he chuckled, taking a sip. - Seriously? — with feigned surprise. — And I thought you were born behind the counter. Lyosha laughed, and Natasha smiled. This was something new. And, perhaps, pleasant. Natasha brought the cup to her lips, inhaling the aroma of the tea. It turned out to be rich, with light spicy notes that pleasantly warmed her after a cool evening. - And how long have you been coming here? — She asked, looking at Lyosha. He slightly shrugged, clasping his hands around his cup. — A few years. Sometimes after a shift you need something… quieter. It’s noisy in the bar. She grinned, understanding him without further ado. — Why did you invite me? He thought for a moment, then lazily ran his finger along the edge of his cup. — It just seemed like you wanted something quieter today, too. Natasha bowed her head slightly, peering at him. Lyosha didn’t look like a person who easily invited people somewhere. Quite the opposite. He always held himself a little distant, with a slight smile that hid his emotions, but there was never any falsehood in his voice. She took another sip. — You weren’t mistaken. It’s really nice here. He nodded briefly, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, added: - If you want, we can make it a tradition. Natasha smiled faintly, looking at him over her cup. - We’ll see. Their conversation flowed smoothly from topic to topic. An ordinary day, funny stories from behind the bar, conversations about people who come and go. At some point, Natasha caught herself feeling too comfortable. Time flew by. - It’s time to go, — Lesha said quietly when he noticed that the street outside the window was almost empty. They left the tea house, and Natasha inhaled the cool night air. Lesha took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, but after some hesitation, put them back. - Should I walk you home? - No need, — she smiled slightly. — I’m not a little girl. - I know, — he glanced at her briefly. — I just suggested it. She looked at him, as if assessing him, and then nodded: - Okay. Take me there. They walked in silence, but the silence was not awkward. It was the same as in the bar — easy, comfortable, familiar. When they reached her house, Natasha stopped and, after a little hesitation, said: - Thank you for the evening. Lesha nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. - Then… until next time? She smiled slightly. - We’ll see, — she repeated his words, opening the door. Lyosha was in no hurry to leave. He waited until the light outside her window came on, and only then turned around, slowly heading back into the night city. After that evening in the tea house, walks became a habit. Not right away, of course. At first, Natasha would just run into the bar, as usual, grab something light, chat with Lyosha, and then disappear into the night. But one day, he saw her at the entrance, leaving after his shift. - What’s wrong? — he raised an eyebrow. - Oh, I just… wanted to go for a walk, — she answered as if standing under the bar late at night was completely normal. Lyosha grinned. - Well, let’s go. And from then on, they walked. Sometimes silently, sometimes in a low voice, discussing everything in a row. Natasha could start talking about something stupid, like why streetlights sometimes blinked, as if they were tired, or how funny drunk people were when they thought no one could hear them. Lyosha just nodded, inserting short comments, but that was enough for Natasha. Sometimes they went for coffee, sometimes for street food, once they even went into a 24-hour store just to see what was on sale there, and left empty-handed. Do you always walk so much? — Lyosha asked once when they reached the embankment. - When there’s someone to go with. He looked at her, but said nothing. The city was different at night — quieter, emptier, but somehow cozy because of it. Once they were walking past shop windows, and Natasha stopped in front of one of them. - I’d wear that sweater, — she said, pointing her finger at the glass. Lyosha glanced at the warm-colored knitted sweater. - Why don’t you buy it? - I don’t know. I’m not used to spending money just like that. He remembered it. And a few days later, when Natasha came to the bar again, she found a neatly folded bundle on a chair by the counter. - What’s this? - Look. She unfolded the fabric and froze. It was that same sweater. - Lyosha… He simply shrugged. - Somehow I didn’t want you to dream about something and not be able to afford it. She looked at him, as if trying to understand what kind of person he was. - Thank you, — she finally said, squeezing the warm fabric in her hands. That night they walked longer than usual. And Natasha caught herself thinking that she liked the habit of leaving the bar with someone else.