Epilogue - The Pink Cadillac

Spring had finally arrived in Houston. The days had become quite clear. Each day, the temperature rose slightly. There were occasionally two or three white clouds drifting in the glass-clear sky. The constant flow of traffic on the congested highways started to act like a drunken elephant. One afternoon, in the renowned Lake Club of the city, there was a lot of activity. There were people with smiling faces. It appeared that the weather had an effect on them as well. The sound of cheers and laughter could be heard from all directions.

A stunning blue-eyed lady in her late twenties dressed in a yellow corset dress walked into the club. Her face bore a look of profound grief. Even spring was unable to have an effect on her. She used to come here frequently to eat. It was one of her favorite spots in town. She was well known among the staff here. She had never seen such a large throng here before. Her preferred table had already been occupied. She would have made reservations earlier if she had known there would be such a large crowd here today. While she was standing still and contemplating all of this, a waiter abruptly approached her and said, “Good afternoon, madam. You will have to wait for a while. Right now, the hall is full.”

She responded with a smile. The waiter moved forward. She was undecided as to whether it would be better to wait or move to a different place to eat. However, the dish she wanted to have today was the most delectable prepared here. She chose to hold off.

Suddenly, her gaze was drawn to a different-looking man seated in a corner. He was seated alone at the table intended for two. He was dressed in a sky-blue shirt with glasses on his eyes. He had a laptop on the table in front of him and was obliviously typing something. The lady approached the man slowly, who was in his mid-thirties.

“Excuse me, sir,” the lady turned to the man and asked, “are you waiting for someone?”

Raising his head, he smiled at the lady and added, “No, ma’am. I came here by myself.”

“If you don’t mind, can I share the table with you?” The lady hesitantly questioned.

“I’m fine with it. You are welcome to sit here,” he said.

“What I intended to ask was whether you were working, will my sitting here create any hindrance in your work?”

“This won’t happen at all. You can sit here comfortably.”

After thanking him, the lady took a seat in front of him. The man started working on his laptop again.

“Have you ordered any food?” The lady inquired.

“No, not yet. I was stumped as to what to order. Could you please aid me in this?”

“I would be delighted to. By the way, Pollo Asado is a specialty of the house. That’s what I’m going to order.”

“If I’m not mistaken, it’s the Spanish word for roast chicken.”

“You are absolutely correct.”

“So let’s eat the food of your choice today.”

The lady beckoned the waiter over and placed her order for Pollo Asado, Pico De Gallo (fresh salsa) and Sauvignon Blanc.

The lady then began sipping water from the glass and the man got busy typing something in his laptop. After about two minutes of silence, the woman attempted to start a conversation by saying, “By the way, my name is…”

Before she could complete her sentence, the man gestured with his hand and stopped her from speaking. The lady thought that she might have disturbed him. She started feeling guilty and kept silent for some time. After continuing to type for ten minutes, he shut down his laptop and placed it in the bag that was resting on the side of the chair. The waiter served their order during this time. Seeing wine and food, their eyes sparkled. The lady opened the bottle of wine and poured it into both the glasses. Both got busy eating food without delay. While eating, the lady questioned, “Were you doing office work?”

“No. I was working on my upcoming book.”

“So, you’re a writer?” the surprised lady enquired.

“Yes, of course.”

“So, may I get your name? Maybe I’ve read one of your works.”

He expressed his helplessness and apologized, “Sorry, but that will not be possible for me.”

“But why is this so?”

“I mean that I don’t publish my books under my own name. I prefer to remain anonymous.”

“Have you kept a pen name of your own? But why do you do that? Don’t you like being famous?”

“You’ve asked three questions all at once.” He chuckled.

“You are not required to answer these questions if you find them challenging.”

“There is nothing challenging for a writer. I attempt to respond to each one separately.”

The lady smiled and sipped her wine.

“But promise me that you won’t be sad after hearing the answers to your questions.”

“Mister, at this point in my life, I have reached the pinnacle of sadness. There is nothing beyond that.”

“Is that so? So pay attention. Your initial query was, ‘Have you kept a pen name of your own?’ So, the answer is ‘Yes.’ I use a pen name. However, the book I’m currently writing does not go by that name. It will be published under the actual name of someone. I intend to have my book published in the name of the woman I loved. She left this world ten years ago only as a result of an incurable illness. She passed away at the age of 24.”

That lady was genuinely shocked. She became speechless as she looked at that man. Listening to him, it appeared like she had lost the sense of taste in the food.

“I’m really sorry,” she added in a hushed voice. “What happened to her?”

“When we are not naming anything here, it would not be appropriate to name the disease.”

“I resurrected your bad memories,” she said, “I apologize.”

“It’s not a memory I’ll ever forget. I’ve always lived with it. Please don’t blame yourself. I was madly in love with her. She was stunningly attractive and extremely intelligent. She was also a wild woman. I lacked any redeeming qualities. Still, she chose me. If she had been alive, she would have been famous all over the world. But now no one knows her. And here comes the answer to your second question, Why am I doing this? My talent is because of her. I was absolutely broken after she departed. Then a writer emerged from within me. I’ve made a lot of money writing books over the years. But no one knows who she was who awakened the writer in me. That’s why I made the decision to publish a book under her name. This will serve as my sincere ode to her. For this task, it is crucial for me to maintain my anonymity. I hope you don’t feel bad.”

“This is not fair,” the lady muttered in a resentful tone. “How would it be feasible to continue the conversation with you in this manner?”

“It is certainly feasible,” he remarked with a smile. “Even I’m not going to ask you your name. Let it be a meeting of two total strangers.”

With a pretty smile, she blinked her eyes and agreed to play the game. Then she asked him, “Has there never been another woman in your life in all these years?”

“Numerous ladies entered my life after she left. But I couldn’t plunge into such depths of love with anyone. That’s why no relationship ever lasted.”

Hearing this, that lady also got lost in some thoughts. Perhaps this had refreshed some old memory for her too. The man drew her attention toward the food and said that they should not get entangled in things and let the food cool down. She smiled and started eating again. That man again said, “Your third question was whether I do not like to become famous?”

The lady smiled and asked, “Do you really dislike being famous? People are obsessed with fame.”

“Being famous isn’t all awful. However, it is extremely detrimental to my profession.”

“But why?”

“Consider it this way. A writer is an artist. He has a flame inside of it. He has to maintain this spark. That light is extinguished by fame. The only way to keep that flame alive is to maintain your anonymity. There isn’t another option. I can think of scores of authors whose debut works were masterpieces because no one had ever heard of them before. They were unidentified. But once their fame peaked, the flame inside them died. After that, every book they wrote was a rehash. There was nothing new to say. All of the other artists like singers, dancers, actors and musicians have no option to work in anonymity. Only a writer is able to accomplish his work while remaining anonymous. In summary, we may say that fame is to an artist what light is to a vampire.”

The lady was taken astonished by his words. “I never thought like this,” she remarked. “Does this really happen?”

“Yes, of course. This is what happens.”

“Could you tell me how you found out about this?”

“An English poet has talked about this. Man acquires the art of living only in solitude.” He drank a sip of wine and then said, “And, in my opinion, the goal of everyone on this planet is to create something. When you want to create something, that thing needs complete privacy. Writing a story is like giving birth. Just as a child grows in a mother’s womb, so does an idea grow in the mind of a writer. And he will feel uneasy until he puts that concept on paper in the shape of a story. He feels the same enormous satisfaction after writing a narrative that a mother does after giving birth to a child.”

“You seem to be quite uneasy, too. Is the cause of this likewise what you just explained?”

“That’s right. But I believe the time is approaching when I, too, will be joyous.”

They both laughed.

The man was suddenly silent for a little while and his focus was diverted from the lady’s face sitting in front of him to someone else in the restaurant hall. A young couple had just walked into the hall and was looking for a seat. The man’s gaze was drawn to the couple. That lady didn’t believe it was appropriate to turn around. She continued to sit where she had been. She received the impression that someone who knew the man seated in front of him might have arrived. Then, after a little while, he turned to gaze at that lady once more, and she continued speaking.

“I have met many eminent artists in my life, the majority of whom are film actors or singers,” the lady told him. “I’d never met a writer before. I found writers to be really peculiar. I learned today that they are also quite fascinating. In this crowd, your face seemed to be looking different. Is it typical for the writers to maintain this level of anonymity and withhold their identities from the public?”

“Yes, of course. There have been innumerable such writers. There are several such publications whose writers are only known by their pen names. Nothing else is known about them. Their real names are not used in these publications. These writers’ thinking is of the highest caliber. Ordinary folks will never think like them.”

The man replenished the lady’s empty wine glass and received a ‘thanks’ from her. He continued, saying, “I’ve opened a chapter of my life in front of you. You can now choose to open your heart as well. Why did you claim to have achieved the pinnacle of sadness?”

That lady’s face exhibited some hesitation. He became aware of his predicament. “There is no compulsion,” he declared. “It is not a problem if you choose not to disclose.”

“Actually, there isn’t anything like that. It is all about the relationship. You have a profound love for someone. However, for whatever reason once that relationship ends, you are unable to get to that point with a new partner. You are constantly looking for the same happiness, but you are unable to find it. Then you continue to suffocate on the inside. In any case, a woman cannot speak candidly. She wishes for her lover to comprehend her emotions. However, most men prioritize their own enjoyment.”

“Are you saying that your partner prioritizes his own enjoyment?”

“No. It’s not like that. He is fantastic; never goes against anything I want. He, however, never understood me.”

“Look, a woman’s personality is quite complex. She is not as transparent as a man. I realize that it is pointless to expect anything from men in many fields. If a solution can be found simply by speaking from the heart, it should be expressed.”

“You know how hard it is for a woman.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time with women. I understand that a lady rarely speaks her feelings. She wishes her lover to read her mind. Just tell me one thing, if there was ever a situation that was passing in front of you and was about to vanish in a matter of seconds, in which you could speak up and obtain what you wanted in life, would you still prefer to be quiet?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say anything about it right now. It would be much easier to speak if you are drunk.”

“However, when you’re drunk, you can’t recognize the situation.”

They both laughed again.

“It was a joy speaking with you. I can tell your books must be incredibly excellent.”

“One should only pick up a pen and start writing when they have solved life’s mystery. Not prior to that.”

Both of them had nearly finished their lunch. The lady looked around the hall. The hall was still full. There was a lot of bustle around. “At times, I have the impression that everyone in the world is seeking something. Every soul here is parched. Additionally, we’re all stumbling around looking for something. It seems that this planet was only created for us humans to wander. When a person solves the mystery of life, does their wandering come to an end?” The lady questioned while gazing into his eyes.

He paused for a moment. The couple who had entered the hall some time ago spotted a vacant table, and they both proceeded in its direction. The man’s gaze followed both of them until they took a seat. Then, glancing at them, he began to remark, “Certainly, a man’s wandering cannot end until he finds his right destination. Some people believe they have arrived at their destination at some point in their lives, but this is not always the case. They consider a beautiful stop on the way as their destination. But their final destination still lies further ahead. Very few people are so fortunate that their wandering comes to an end,” he smiled “everyone else’s wanderings end with their life. There are many such unfortunate people whose wandering does not end even after the end of their life.”

“This implies that the person will just keep wandering helplessly throughout his life. It’s not feasible that his thirst will ever be quenched, right?”

“That is entirely feasible. The pious are cared for by nature. Nature makes fixing everything in their lives a top concern. You’d be shocked to learn that a person’s non-living possessions might sometimes assist him in this work.”

“What function can non-living entities fulfil?”

“Non-living entities are capable of doing things that we cannot even imagine. They have feelings as well as deep understanding. Sometimes their feelings get hurt unintentionally. The pride of that old piece of furniture lying in the house gets shattered when it thinks that being ancient, it is the most sturdy and resilient and would last a long time, but due to the new trend, it is replaced.”

The lady sat silently listening to him. Her expression indicated that she was quite impressed to hear this. The man asked her, “Tell me, what is the one thing you have that you love the most?”

“There are so many things I love. I can’t think of a single one.”

“Still, something must have become a part of your personality. You can’t imagine living without it.”

“I do have such a thing. My father owned a vintage car. Since I was young, I have adored it. I also loved the color of it. My father was also aware of how much I cherished that vehicle. He didn’t sell it for a long time. On my 25th birthday, I received it as a gift from my father. I own three more cars, all the latest models. But the same vintage car remains my preferred pick even today.”

“If you’re as attached to that car as you claim, let me tell you that the car must understand your emotions.”

“I find this idea kind of weird.”

“Yes, it’s weird, but it’s also true. You drive that car, and you take excellent care of it. As a result, it understands your emotions. Whether you believe it or not, it is aware of your thirst. And if nature so desires, the car will assist you in reaching your target. Take heed of what I’ve said. It will undoubtedly happen someday.”

The lady appeared mesmerized as she listened to him. She was completely unaware of her surroundings. Suddenly, the voice of the waiter interrupted her trance. He was asking if they wanted to order something else. They both refused and asked for the check. The waiter picked up the plates from the table and took them away.

Then he came back after a little while with the check in his hands. The lady opened her purse but the man stopped her and paid the amount himself. The lady thanked him and stated that she would remember this meeting forever. He smiled and said that anything that happened between two strangers was always memorable. He too would never forget this meeting.

Their focus was abruptly diverted by the sound of cracking glass. They both turned their attention to the sound’s source. A glass of wine had dropped from the hand of a young man seated at a table some distance away, which was the lady’s favorite table at this restaurant and where she frequently sat. The young man was speaking with someone on the phone. He had an anxious expression on his face and was extremely tense. Perhaps he had received some bad news on the phone. Then a waiter rushed over and started picking up the shattered pieces of glass on the floor and placing them in a tray.

The lady then rose from her seat. She wished the author success with his book and walked away. She slowly exited the club. As soon as she arrived at the parking spot, a surprised expression spread across her face. She cast a bewildered glance around and shouted, “Oh my God. Where is my car?”

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