A Macchiato with Ennui

I order two coffees as the rain thrashes slick against the streets outside – a black ground for myself and a macchiato with ten… ten espresso shots for my friend. Now, I’ve never tried a macchiato, let alone one designed to make your brain implode like this one. I don’t think too hard about the different types, whether to steam or foam the milk, which volcanic rocks the coffee beans were barbecued on, et cetera. Coffee is coffee as far as I’m concerned, a necessity to make it through the day… but this, this is beyond necessity. 

The young ponytailed barista can’t help shooting me a bemused, cautionary glance as she hands over the second of the steaming mugs. “Wednesdays, am I right?” I attempt to chuckle amiably, feeling a cringe winding down my spine. God, suck it up, man.

Caffeine grenades in hand, I tiptoe back to the corner booth where my friend is slumped, quietly existing. Well, I say friend… We’ve barely spoken since I stumbled upon him in that dark alleyway, lying flat on his back behind a stinking skip bin. I remember feeling a certain… morbid curiosity. I mean, you’d know what I was talking about if you were able to see him. He’s a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure – he was unresponsive for the first three days I visited. So, on the fourth day that week (which now must have been at least a month ago), I invited him for coffee. To my pleasant surprise, he inclined his head – which may have been an affirmative gesture, or… actually, he might have been shielding his eyes from the sun. Still… here he is. Better late than never, I suppose.

My friend rolls his head at the bitter stench wafting across the table, stretching his pallid fingers around the scalding ceramic. Taking a sip, his eyes close momentarily as if drifting into a wistful slumber… then he whacks the table with his fist. “Wowza! Coffee’s a rarity where I’m from,” he remarks, setting the mug aside (I’ll realise later that this is the first and only time he touches it). “The buzz reminds me that I’m alive.”

His natural name, whatever that means, is Annuien Inodiare. Is that Latin? Late Middle Ages French or Anglo-Saxon, perhaps? Either way, his preferred name is Ennui.

At first glance, it would appear that some form of prehistoric wild animal had slunk into this Mean Bean on Fifth Street. Fortunately, I appear to be the only person capable of seeing Ennui… all ten feet of him. Unkempt, unwashed hair tousles down his pockmarked face, which is prone to yawning every ten seconds or so. Mousey fabric covers his prodigious shoulders, stitched into a makeshift cloak which billows as if constantly being swept up by some invisible draught. “That’s just the Tide,” he dismisses. “It’s like a cosmetic effect for immortal beings. Can’t get rid of it. A bit of a nuisance, really.”

His voice is grating in a way I can’t fathom and yet… comfortingly familiar. Listless? It’s like a dull drone, accented with tedium. A voice that clearly takes great effort to form, emerging on the wave of a sigh. At this point, I haven’t pried too deeply into his background. I mean, he’s clearly not of this world (and I’m handling that fact with remarkable composure). With the name and his characteristics… I fear I’ve bumped into a modern-day god or deity or… immortal being? I’ll choose my questions very wisely.

“So you clearly don’t look… I mean, with the height and all… this…” I gesture pathetically in his direction, deciding I might never open my mouth again. What the hell was that?

“Eh, I look more impressive than I actually am and that’s… not a high bar.” Ennui trills his lips, glimpsing around the coffee shop with the interest of a sulking preteen. “You probably think I’m a mess. Can hardly blame you. The others have told me I’m nothing but an ‘unfortunate byproduct’ anyway. None of ‘em want me around.”

“The others?” I query, taking a sip of my own coffee. Ennui yawns for the thirtieth time.

“The cardinal emotions,” he tuts. “You know, my extended family. From what I’ve heard, they’re making real change out there, Rage and Fear and… Joy. Ugh, Joy. Sometimes I think he’s trying way too hard. Don’t you find it exhausting to be that happy all the time? Come on, man… Why bother when it’s easier to feel nothing at all?”

“Yeah…” Damn, he’s got me there. I know I’ve been guilty of that mindset from time to time. “But what are you doing here? You know… on Earth, I guess. Do all the other emotions have… bodies?”

“Not typically.” Ennui grins slightly. “You know, I’d pay good money to see that. How you mortals do it, all these loose, fleshy parts… I’ve grown fond of them myself, but I know a few divas up there who’d have some choice opinions. No, I’ve been… let’s say I’ve been given a time out. The others don’t want me messing up their big, progressive plans, but… I don’t know. I get bored, man! I’m bored, and I’m tired all the time, and that starts impacting you mortals when I try to hang out with the guys up top, all ethereal and… wibbly-wobbly and whatever. I just get in the way. They sent me down here, saying it could cure me, which is cute.” 

It’s at this moment that I start to wonder whether I might be dreaming. I pinch the soft flesh of my thigh under the table. Ow… 

Well. Worth a shot. I turn back to my coffee. “So… why can I see you when no-one else can?” 

Ennui chuckles, then. That’s progress. “Don’t think you’re special. I’ve got, like, a million Samaritans quacking at me right now. There’s a form of me here for anyone feeling the same way that I do. People just like you!”

I can’t help feeling stung by this accusation. “I’m not some kind of defeatist. Ennui, that’s… a feeling of worthlessness, right? Like, everything is meaningless?”

“Ah, no, that’s Nihil,” Ennui reassures. “Bloody Nihil… Trust me, none of us go near that one. He’s always off somewhere dark and unpleasant, brooding, making everyone miserable. Luckily for us, his utter disbelief in humanity by definition affects a small percentage of it. Me, I just have lapses. I come and go, that’s why I’m a bit of a wanderer right now. I don’t feel defeated, I’m just… waiting for something that I find exciting to come along. And trust me, that can take forever.”

“But that’s such a lacking feeling,” I pipe up. “The best thing we can do is just… just get on with our lives as they are and stay on track.”

Ennui leans back against the faux-leather. “Do you really believe that?”

I hesitate, pursing my lips. Do I? Truthfully, with the consulting firm giving me grief on a daily basis, it’s been harder to stay motivated in the evenings. I’ve stopped writing, I can barely set aside any brain space for learning guitar… But that’s just life, isn’t it? “We can’t just wake up one day and decide that everything’s going to change. It’s impractical, and… and it takes an insane amount of willpower to follow through, you know?”

“Nah, I fully agree with you. Way too much effort, to be honest. I’m far too disorganised to be that kind of advocate – you should meet Muse, though. She’s an absolute hoot.” Ennui links his fingers, sloping his massive body over the puny square table. “I’ve never wanted to be a saint but I’m no villain either. I’m indifferent to any of that. See, the others think I’m some productivity-killer, but I disagree. The way I see it… I’m your reminder that life is transitory and beautiful, and that moments of true fulfilment should be cherished above anything else.” 

“That’s… one way of looking at it, I guess.”

“Did that sound good? I’ve been practicing.” Ennui stands then, his hulking body creaking like an old wooden ship tipping through icy waters. “Cheers for the macchiato. That’s a brain fog decimator right there. I’ll remember that feeling for a long time.”

“Will I see you again?” I ask, my voice rattling with unexpected hope. God, I’m pathetic.

“No, I somehow doubt you will, but listen… This has cheered me right up, so thanks. Genuinely.” He trudges through the coffee shop, stopping by the door with a barely perceptible tilt of his head. “Hah! Look at all these people – they think you’ve been talking to yourself for twenty minutes.” Then he’s gone, fading into the argentine mist of diminishing rainfall.