You only value having a companion once you know what it
means to travel alone, live alone, eat alone. When being alone is no longer a
choice; when it is the only option you have, that you have had, for the past
God knows how long, then only you learn to value those precious few moments
when you have a person next to you. To be able to laugh freely because there is
a person to laugh with, and not worry that people think you have lost your
marbles. To be able to point out little nothings that mean something because
that other person shares your line of thought. To be able to sit and stare into
space, knowing that the person next to you is someone you can trust. To be able
to walk, and have footsteps matching yours. To be able to chatter away, and not
just be condemned to you own silent thoughts.
How privileged was she, in that moment. They were strangers,
just hours before, but now they were walking together, navigating their ways
through the foreign streets. They both knew that they would part ways and
probably never see each other again, but it didn’t matter. Because they were
both grateful for the few hours of each other’s companionship. Of the shared
laughter, of the understood inner thoughts.
As they made their way back to Number 10, they were both
glowing both from the beautiful sights that they had seen, but also from the
fact that they had someone to share it with.
Unlock the door, the traffic light keys make a little jingle.
They scrabble about for the lights. Giggling like little girls, they make their
way up the steps, and unlock the second door.
“I’m getting my laundry and eating some cereal”
“I will have my bread and cheese”
They make their way to the kitchen and take out cups and
plates and bowls. There is another person in the kitchen. A man. Black shirt,
wielding a knife. They pay him no heed and keep talking.
She takes out her journal and starts scribbling away in it.
The bread feels dry in her mouth. Gardenia bread back home is so much more
moist and soft. But she was hungry, and it was all she had. Perhaps tea would
help things go down.
She stands, and opens the cupboard where the tea is kept.
The man grunts and moves a few inches away. He clicks his tongue at whatever he
is trying to MacGyver. She gingerly skips around him, and the two girls
continue conversing.
“I can’t believe how long your laundry is taking.”
“I know! Is it ever going to come out?”
“I’m going to check with the reception guy”
It is a different receptionist this time, and this one is
much less dapper than the first. This one is much more concise and abrupt;
also, not as quick-footed.
He tells the girls that they’ll just have to wait and that the
laundry will be done when it is done. He then closes the kitchen door so the
noise wouldn’t disturb the other people.
Crap. I’m closed in
with the guy with the knife.
The two girls continue to talk, but she keeps a wary eye on
the man wielding the weapon. In the beginning she had thought that he was
fixing himself a snack, but the fact that he was constantly clicking his
tongue, and no scent of food emanated from the corner he occupied proved her wrong.
She considered the situation:
He had strong, broad shoulders. Not very, but tall enough to
be hard to beat down. Plus, he was wielding a knife.
Her friend has asked her a question. She wasn’t paying
attention. Somehow, she manages to give a response that her companion finds
acceptable.
She couldn’t see his face, but he was obviously agonizing
over something. Something tiny that was in his hands. Something he was trying
to pry using a knife. It probably was not a can of tuna as she had initially
thought.
Her friend, saw how distracted (and a little bit worried)
she was, asked the man
“Hey, do you need help or something?”
She is relieved. If anything, she knows that once you talk
to them, then the threat of danger is reduced. Plus, reception was just on the
other side of the door. They have a telephone,
they would hear us scream. Is the laundry machine loud enough to drown both of
our screams? Probably not. My voice is quite big. Would he try to attack the
both of us? Probably not. But he does seem very disturbed.
He turns around, and in a deep, obviously exhausted, but
surprisingly gentle voice replies
“…my watch…it fell and it has become like this…”
She is no longer listening to him. Instinctively she gets
up, stretches out her arms,
“Here, let me have a look, maybe I can help.”
She had no idea what she was doing. The buckle was inverted.
It had happened to one of her watches many years ago, and she had fixed it
somehow, but that was almost two decades ago.
What the h*ll are you
doing? What if you break the fella’s watch? Did you hear how scary he was just
now, grunting and grumbling over it? Do you feel how small you are and that he
could probably snap you in half if he wanted to?
She ignores the voices in her head and fumbles for a while.
But the voices get stronger and stronger; as is she aware of how daunting his
size is compared to her small frame. He was standing right behind her, and she
became more and more aware of his physique. She quickly glanced around, the
knife was on the counter. She quietly exhales in relief. She sheepishly looks
up at him, but fear pushes her gaze back down. Calm down. What are you fluttering about for?
She turns to her companion, remembering the joke they had
shared earlier in the night,
“You have a college degree and you can’t even do this?”
Her friend laughs, remembering.
“You have a college degree?” came a soft, slightly accented
voice. Slightly timid.
Shoot. What if he
takes offence? What if he thinks it’s condescending or something? Where’s the
knife?
She turns to him, but she cannot find the confidence to gaze
up at him. She shakes her head from down below, and says “No, don’t mind me, it’s
how I curse myself when I can’t get things done; like when I was trying to
pack, and I had to cut shoe insoles for the first time in my life and I couldn’t
figure out for the life of me how to do it and I was like ‘you have a college
degree and you can’t figure out how to cut insoles? Seriously?’”
Shut up! You are
talking too much!
But she seems to have amused him. He lifts up the palm of his
hand, and she notices how graceful he moved. She internally shakes her head.
“I too have a college degree” he replies with a small smile.
By this time, she had mustered the courage to look him in
the eyes. And they were indeed beautiful eyes. Dark, thinking eyes. She
internally shakes her head again.
“Sorry, can’t help you after all”
She hands him back his watch. She steals a glance at his
eyes, and they surprised her. Gentle, but sad. Not just tired, but also sad.
She summons a controlled voice, and conjures up a response
“So, what is it that you do with that college degree?”
“I’m a nurse.” He places his palm against his chest, again.
“Oh! It must take a lot out of you; your job..?”
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