Begin Separation - Pt. 2

Three months and twenty-seven days ago at 4:15am I sat in the rain on a damp metal bench waiting for the train to come in. Google maps seems like such a simple system but it always ends up screwing me over in terms of directions so I had arrived a full hour before my train would get there. 45 minutes before he would arrive. I’d barely slept any the night before, my jitters were so bad, so maybe it was good I’d gotten up for that early walk. St. Louis is so calm and peaceful in the morning, the opposite of how I was feeling with my quick heart beat and sweaty palms.

Finally arriving at Lambert Airport I nervously followed signs to Baggage Claim, still not quite believing he would be there. I instantly recognized him from the back of his dark, curly head and couldn’t stop smiling. He looked as nervous as I felt when he spotted me and slowly starting walking towards me. I kept walking but it didn’t feel like I was getting any closer so I ran and threw myself into his arms, holding on tight just to make sure he was real. That he was actually there.

Since that moment I haven’t stopped holding on. There’s rarely at time when he is more than arm’s length away from me. People still ask me if it’s weird or if it’s what I expected. The answer to both is no. It feels exactly like it was meant to be. It’s not perfect of course. He hates how I wander off in the middle of conversations and I hate how he cuts me off when I seem uninterested. But then I love how for the first time in my life there’s someone who holds doors open for me and insists on carrying the heavy boxes and he loves having someone who can sort out his tangled trains of thought.

This is why at the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows midnight premiere when he got down on one knee between the Cyclone and Gauntlet arcade games and asked me to marry him, there was no hesitation. I had already known for a long time that he is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. No date has been set as of yet. We’re going to wait until I finish school, which is about 2 years from now, and see how it goes from there.

The best news in all of this is that Sab isn’t going back to Vegas. My parents have generously allowed him to stay until December. While I will move into my new apartment Friday and start going to school 100 miles away from him, it’s still infinitely better than the thousands of miles that separated us before. It will be hard but hopefully come Spring we’ll be able to close the distance between us for good. Until then, just having him in the same time zone will be comfort enough.

P.S. – I don’t know what I would have done without you this summer Sab. Having you so close to me makes me wonder how we ever survived before. I’m so glad you came and even happier that you aren’t leaving. I know the next few months will be hard and I will miss you so much but know that I am always here for you no matter what. <3

The Story That Never Was, Chapter 2

This is the Number 7 Train from East Lindell to North Everett, a hustling mode of public transport that carries its passengers on swift wings from their homes to their places of business. People get on, and off, read newspapers, browse the latest headlines on their mobile devices and blip, tweet, and google as the world passes them by in the form of brightly colored blurs. Let me point out someone special, you see her, boarding the train at the Pine Avenue stop? How could you miss her? Those electric blue stockings could stop traffic let alone the way they are paired with her pink heeled boots. She stumbles through the doorway, allowing herself to be jostled by all the rest eagerly rushing home. She’s too tired to care much any more. All her muscles ache a bit, simultaneously from sitting and standing for too long. Even so a smile still waits in the corner of her red mouth and her eyes are hopeful. It’s just been a long day, not a bad one. Her emerald green fingernails tap a simple drum line on the back of her iPod as she shifts the volume to accommodate the increase of noise on the train. That is the kind of person she is. Silly and strange. She was just the kind of girl he would have noticed, and would have made way for if he had been at the doors when they opened, but he wasn’t, and you be wondering where he is. If you wait a bit you’ll find him. Just a little longer. And there he comes, rushing up the stairs, hoping to make it before the doors slam shut, and the train abandons him to 32 minutes of silent standing. You notice his rushed steps still fall to an unheard rhythm? It’s the rhythm of his music, ruining the last of his still functioning hearing. That is the kind of person he is. Clumsy and awkward. And little do the two of them realize the machinations in motion. That their lives will be changed today forever. But don’t let me ruin it for you, just see for yourself, because this is the day they meet...

Of course there were no seats left, not that she expected anything less at 6 o’clock in the evening. She sighed and looked up at the bars that hung from the ceiling, meant to be used by standing passengers to hold on while the train was in motion. She didn’t even bother to reach for it, she knew from experience that the tiptoes it required to grasp the slippery bar weren’t worth it and would only make the strain on her poor tired legs even worse. So she did her best to wedge her way into the crowd in the hopes that they would cushion her and keep their hands out of her pockets and off her person at the same time. No dice. The train started suddenly, without the usual ringing warning bell, and she stumbled backwards towards the door where she landed against something soft and entirely too person shaped for her liking.

He reached out his hand as the doors started closing, determined to wedge himself into the packed train and be home on time for once. But as soon as the doors shut, and he attempted to make his way to the back as per his usual routine, he realized something had gone wrong. That black and white scarf had rebelled against entering the train and so now flapped outside the speeding bullet, enjoying the cool evening air. Of course He wasn’t enjoying it as much as his scarf was. His options were plain: abandon the scarf or deal with the massive middle section crowd. He didn’t hesitate, he remained close to the door. Noticing the seat right next to it, known to him as the land of jostled elbows, was available, he casually began slip in front of it, but a sudden start of the train, and the force of a tiny girl caused him to be dropped into it less than gracefully.

“I’m so sorry!” She gasped as she realized she’d landed right into a poor man’s lap. She turned around, face scarlet with embarrassment. Her preference would have been to get away from the situation as quickly as possible but the crowd had quickly sealed back up from the wake her tumble had caused and she really had nowhere to go. She popped one of her earbuds out as she managed to grab onto the armrest of his seat in an attempt to prevent the entire incident from happening again. “You’re alright aren’t you?” She asked with a big smile, hoping that if she just ignored it her blush would fade away. He had only slightly groaned when he bounced into the seat, but his face went blank, and grew somewhat flushed as he heard the sweet voice come to him through the ebb of his music. He couldn’t help but smile shyly, glancing at his lap, “I’m... I’m fine.” When he looked up, he couldn’t help but notice her holding onto his arm rest, he looked back to her, then the ceiling railing, then back to her, doing a bit of calculation in his head. It wasn’t as complex as it may have seemed, it ran down to something akin of: tiny girl plus big train equals no good. And without thinking twice, and forgetting about his scarf’s little rebellion, he stood up, and nudged a standing passenger slightly as he reached up to the rail, offering her the seat with a gentlemanly gesture one would see a maitre d’ perform as he showed a fancy young couple to their booth. “You should sit down, this train can get really bumpy sometimes,” he said more to his scarf’s back end than to her, shyness taking him over, but not enough to overcome his manners

She looked at him for a second with surprise and then her smile doubled in size. “Thanks!” She plopped down into the seat again, almost as ungracefully as she had the first time. “And they say chivalry is dead.” She crossed her legs and pulled the plaid fabric of her skirt back down over her knees, jiggling her foot slightly out of habit, forgetting for a moment the close quarters of the train car. As was her custom on public transport she did her best to avoid all eye contact possible with those around her but her gaze kept shifting to the man in the scarf who stood before her. Something about him intrigued her. Wait a second... She spun her thumb around the volume dial on her iPod and listened closely. “Voxtrot!” She blurted out suddenly. “You’re listening to Voxtrot!” He had to stare off to the side, as his usual custom of staring down would have had him staring at her legs, and that would have made the situation a little more awkward than it already was. And just as a song came to its slow closing he heard the very name of the artist leave her mouth. He blinked, then slowly turned, a bit surprised, pressing the down button on his Zune rapidly to lower the volume, he nodded, opening his mouth for a second before saying anything, “You listen to Voxtrot?” His tone was more of admiration that surprise. The sort of admiration one were to give to a great author at a book signing, prefacing every use of their name with a Mr. or Ms. just to make sure you weren’t toeing the line of fowardness. She nodded and turned up the volume of her iPod as loudly as it would go so he could hear ‘Rise Up in the Dirt’ pouring out of her headphones. “I just was.”

The garbled voice of the conductor came over the speakers. “Ah, this is my stop.” She stood up and realized too late that he was closer than she’d previously calculated. Her face was inches from his chest as she strained to look straight up at him. “Thanks again. For the seat, I mean. It was very sweet of you.” She started moving slowly towards the door but soon found something blocking her way. The stretched knit of his scarf was strung between her and the door. He couldn’t help but smile, he liked that song, it was one of his favorites, and as she stood he noticed how close she was, it wasn’t uncomfortable like it was when other people bumped into him on the train. And so, in his head, more math. This time it was more complex. His stop was 15 minutes further ahead, her stop was now, adding in his lack of desire to stop talking to her equaled out to getting home late, but with a smile. And so, as she wandered to the door, he nervously rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry about that, it got caught.” He moved next to her maneuvering the scarf so she wasn’t caught in it’s trail. “I’m getting off here too. Do you want to walk together? I know a good gelatto place just at the end of the block. Unless you have somewhere to be.” “Why would I have anywhere else to be when there is gelatto involved?”

<3

The Story That Never Was, Chapter 1

This is the Magic Bean, a humble establishment of coffee, espresso and tea. It is also a p lace of chance encounters and friendly meetings. But today we are going to be treated to a very strange story. First, let me introduce you to him. See the one sitting there alone with his tea, listening to music loud enough to rupture the ear drums of anyone sitting too close? That is our hero in this adventure. And you see how he managed to catch his overly long scarf under the leg of his chair, leading to his trip up when he stands up, making him look like a buffoon? From his messy black hair to his black framed glasses. That is the kind of person he is. Clumsy and awkward. Exactly the kind of person she would have noticed. Had she been looking. But her back is turned to him, his music drowned out only by the sheer, desperate might of her own. The cafe is far too crowded for her to notice his presence at the table behind her. Her long red hair is pulled back lazily from her face as she glowers at the flickering laptop screen, occasionally biting her brightly painted lips in concentration. Everything about her is brightly colored, from her favorite green elephant earrings to her striped rainbow toe socks. That is the kind of person she is. Silly and strange. But why am I explaining this to you? You can just see for yourself. Just take this little tidbit for example, the day they met...

He drummed his fingers on the table top, impatiently waiting for his tea to be cool enough to sip, or at the very least cool enough to hold. He had forgotten one of those cardboard cup holders they had at the receiving counter, and after a long peril filled journey to his tiny table, he still had to wait. And wait he did. He was to shy to walk back to the counter and ask for one from the girl who handed him his drink, is only thought being ‘If she could hold it long enough to give it to me, why can’t I hold it long enough to drink from it?’ His question remained unanswered, and soon his stare drifted to the window, awash with rain, and then to his messenger bag, filled with his entertainments, and of course, his umbrella.

And this. This always happened to her. Always. Always. Always. You’d thinking living in a city where 90% of the time large drops of water decided to fall from the sky, once in a while you’d remember to bring an umbrella. But no. The trusty green portable awning sat patiently by her front door, waiting patiently for use a convenient 20 blocks away. She looked from the miniature hurricane splattering against the window that read neaB cigaM back into her mug which was now, unfortunately, empty. This wasn’t much of a surprise as it had been in this state for the past 45 minutes. Though miracles were always worth hoping for. It would be nice if the 35¢ in her pocket would suddenly turn into $2.50 (including the tax) so she could afford another hot chocolate, but no such luck. Maybe wishing for the rain to end long enough for her and her bike to make it back home would be enough miracle for one day.

It was still raining, and no hope of a sunny sky was in sight. And so, he decided, for the sake of his warmth he would brave the cashier’s counter and claim a cardboard cup holder (for which she would later assure him that ‘coffee snuggie’ is the technical term), and take a few extras for his bag, so that this fiasco never occur again! And even as he stood up, he knew there was danger ahead as his knee bumped the table, an annoyed grunt escaped him and his tea bounced ever so slightly. ‘Why do they make tiny tables for non-tiny people? Stupid dollhouse furniture.’ Straightening himself out, he took two steps when the tug at his neck informed him that he was about to make friends with embarrassment - for the, third time, today. A tug of his scarf sent his chair toppling, and sent him bounding for the ground, but before that encounter occurred, his elbow would make a brief stop at the next table over, flirting with a small stack of books.

Possibly the only thing that could have jostled her from her thoughts at that particular moment occurred as something swooped past her peripheral vision and scattered her miniature, portable library all over the floor. She jumped up in shock, knocking over her empty mug, headphones popping out of her ears. “Are you alright?” She asked the dazed shape on the floor. It looked like he’d possibly taken The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll to the noggin and she half expected “Jabberwock” to come spilling out of his mouth as she held out a hand to him. He rubbed his head, making his messy hair neater in the process. “Ow,” he said flatly, sitting on the coffee shop floor, scrambling to his feet only because of the sudden memory that these floors probably hadn’t been mopped in weeks. In his scramble, he took the assistance offered, wanting to be off the filthy floors as fast as possible, he glanced down at his black shoes, avoiding eye contact as he mumbled out his apology, “Sorry about the books, it was my scarf’s fault.”

She chuckled, looking him over just to make sure he wasn’t showing any early signs of brain damage. “Don’t worry about it. They’re books, nothing fragile.” Once she was assured he could stand find on his own she bent down and began scooping up her collection. Peter Pan, The Hobbit, The Phantom Tollbooth, dropping them back down on the table rather unceremoniously for the bibliophile that she obviously was. He glanced up, watching her pick up the books, he stuttered a few syllables then decided to quit while he was ahead, picking up a few of the scattered items he couldn’t help but admire the titles; Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone, The Princess Bride, and Inkheart. He placed them on the table noticing her tipped over cup, a sound like a gasp mixed with that sharp hiss people make when you pull off a band-aid that’s been on for a few days, escaped him, “I spilled your drink didn’t I? I’m sorry. What were you drinking? I’ll get you a new one.” Of course, what she might have heard was “Drink, Spilled, New” and things that may have once been words mashed together in between. “No, really. It’s fine.” She struggled to keep down her giggles. He was obviously very sincere and trying very hard to keep the blush that was spreading across his cheeks from being too visible, “quite adorably” she would add when telling the story in later years. “There was nothing in it. Thanks for the offer though, very sweet of you.” Ok, so maybe she was fishing a little. But damn it, another hot chocolate sounded really good right about then.

He knew he was blushing, he had that warm sensation when your sure you have a fever but no one believes you. He casually pointed to the cashier with one hand, his other fishing for his errant scarf, wrapping it around his neck some more causing his mouth to almost vanish under the black and white knittings, “I was going to get something, and I already offered. It would be rude of me not to follow through.” His words were much clearer, if not a bit muffled by yarn. “You passed the test.” She laughed as she dropped back into her seat. “A gentleman always offers twice. If you’re going to insist, another hot chocolate would be lovely.” He smiled, a bit happy she accepted as he moved quickly to the counter, announcing confidently that he wanted an extra large hot chocolate, and if possible, with extra marshmallows, something told him that the tiny girl rather enjoyed her sweets judging by the size of her last cup. And as he waited by the receiving counter, aptly ignoring the conveniently placed items he would soon come to know as “coffee snuggies” he couldn’t help but watch her go back to staring out the window, and he couldn’t help but smile.

<3