Mente

A quiet mind is all you need. All else will happen rightly, once your mind is quiet.

- Nisargadatta Maharaj

***

She sat down in the chair across the table with a loud thud, startling Jean from her book. 

“Hi, I’m Mente,” said the stranger with an enthusiastic smile. “What are you reading there?”

“H–hello,” Jean stuttered, taken aback. “Oh this?” she looked down at her book, “It’s–”

Mente cut her off and continued, “It looks like a romance novel or something, and those are just my favorite. But I do wish they weren’t so sexist…it’s like the authors think love is all women think about, you know?”

Mente paused for a moment. “Hey…” she said in a sly whisper, “Look at that cute guy over there at the counter. You should definitely go talk to him…he’s just your type. I bet you’re too shy though, huh? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Jean sat silently, eyeing the woman suspiciously, wondering how her luck would find her sitting across the table from Mente during this morning’s expedition to her neighborhood coffee shop…one of her most cherished — and usually peaceful — weekly rituals.

“I bet he would totally be into you. Don’t you just hate how women are just expected to want to have a boyfriend all the time? I find it so irritating. Like, why can’t we just be left alone. Right?”

“Left alone,” repeated Jean. “I was just wondering the same thing,” she responded with a forced smile.

“Oh…I must be interrupting your morning, huh? How silly of me,” Mente giggled. Jean shrugged in agreement. “I hate when I’m just sitting somewhere minding my own business and someone won’t take a hint. People just have no manners these days, do they? Well, I’m going to order some coffee.” Mente said. Then, she got up and left.

Jean breathed a heavy sigh of relief, sinking back into her chair with her book as though to disappear behind the quiet Sunday morning bustle of the coffee shop.

After a few minutes, Jean was once again lost in her book. She looked up momentarily to take a sip from the coffee mug sitting on the table in front of her, and nearly jumped out of her chair. There was Mente, sitting across the table, staring at Jean with a wide, stupid grin. Almost as though she had materialized out of nowhere.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, there,” laughed Mente innocently. “Got my coffee,” she held up her cup, showing it off like a child proudly flaunting a new toy. 

Jean was not amused. “I’ve never seen you here before…you must not come here often.” Jean immediately regretted engaging Mente with a question.

“Oh, I’m here all the time,” she responded. “I know just about everyone here, though I never dare talk to any of them.”

“Lucky me,” Jean retorted with a half-smile.

“I’m far too shy, really. And I couldn’t stand the rejection of not being liked. But I feel I know everyone quite personally from observing them,” she paused for a moment and looked around. “You see that couple over there?” 

Jean nodded.

“They always fight about his best friend when they come here…too bad, really. And that woman over there,” she motioned, “she just seems lonely and sad…sort of like you. Yes, I come here just about every week around this time.”

“Funny,” Jean added through gritted teeth. “I’ve never noticed you before.”

Mente got quiet, a curious, serious look washing over her. “Haven’t you?” came her strange reply.

“I–I really just came here to read,” spoke Jean uneasily. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

Mente waved a hand and cut her off. “You don’t get it, Jean. You don’t have a choice here.”

“How…how do you know my name? I don’t remember telling you my name,” Jean muttered.

“You already know the answer to that, Jean,” replied Mente. “I’m not going anywhere…don’t you get that? Haven’t you figured this out yet?”

“What are you talking about? Leave me alone…I think it’s time for me to go.” Jean started to get up from the table to leave, and Mente put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“You know you can’t just walk away from me…it’s not that easy. You know very well you’re not strong enough for that. You’re too nice for that. Always being so nice…how pathetic.”

Jean got up and stormed out of the coffee shop, and Mente got up and raced after her.

“You can’t control me, Jean! You can try, but you can’t run away from me!” Mente yelled towards Jean as she followed behind her on the sidewalk. 

Jean clasped her hands over her ears. “Stop it!” She cried, spinning around to face Mente. “Leave me alone!” she screamed, her eyes shut tight.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone on the sidewalk. Jean looked around furiously, but there was no sign of Mente.

“I think I must be losing my mind,” Jean stammered out loud.

“No,” answered a quiet voice in Jean’s head. “I’m right here. Always right here.”

It was Mente’s voice.