Meeting

It is raining. Lately it seems as if that is all the weather is. Grey clouds, light dribbles and cold winds.

Eileen just stares through the bus window, her head resting on the vibrating window panes. Rain batters against them and stream down together like tiny waterfalls. The glass is cool and she momentarily loses herself in that thought, comparing the temperature of her skin. And the unwanted thoughts are back again.

Eileen does not try to distract herself. It never works anyway. So she shifts in her seat adjusting to a more comfortable position. Inhaling sharply she picks up the book her mother had gifted to her when she started her first job. Eileen flips through the pages landing on the one with the date July 10 at the corner. There is a to-do list written in squiggly words, and Eileen’s breath hitches when she reads the last one. The one she is doing now.

A stranger decides to interrupt her peace then. Eileen makes space picking the straps of her bag onto her lap and squeezing herself to the window. She closes the notebook and shoves it in too.

The tension she gained through the small interaction leaves a minute later. And the numbness returns. Eileen wonders which she prefers and makes no effort to decide. After all there is no point in choosing.

Rumbles of thunder echo through the skies like the hum of a slumbering dragon. Eileen remembers the stories her mother read to her when she was but a child. Her mother would lift her onto her lap and thread her warm wrinkly hands through her hair as she read tale after tale in hushed tones that rose and fell like waves rising and falling as it crashed. Like the way, the fire at the fireplace roared and mellowed when she pushed the bellows. Like the way embers rushes out and warming her face with heated winds before rising and leaving her in the cold.

In a way, Eileen muses, this numbness is like that cold. Only this time she doesn’t have any bellows or a fireplace.

The bus stops and Eileen waits and watches the throng in the middle shrink as more passengers leave. And the bus kicks to a start again. Her hands are a little clammy, the tips of her fingers turning to a freezing cold. The next stop is hers.

The stranger next to her shift and Eileen slips a little closer to the window. Her forehead touches the glass again Eileen flinches with shock of the drop in temperature. She must have straightened her posture sometime during the trip.

Eileen rubs her hands and forcefully slumps her shoulders reminding her body to relax. This is not her first trip, nor would it be her last. A vicious remark, bearing her voice reminds her that it just might be. Eileen ignores it, glaring at the seat in front, steepling her fingers.

“Going to visit someone?” The stranger beside her asks and Eileen squares her shoulders before responding with a strangled, “Yes.”

Her mind sieves through ideas of how the stranger could have known and it disturbs her more than a little to be figured out so easily. Not that she is hiding it. The stranger - an old woman in a knit jumper - smiles and chuckles. The sound calms her and Eileen tries not to search for why.

“It’s just a hunch. I’ve a grandson your age. Goes to college so I know sessions have long finished,” she says.

Eileen notices the deep smile lines that cover her upper cheeks and can’t help but return the gesture.

“To see my mom,” Eileen says and surprises herself with the slip. The old woman knits her eyebrows, concern etching lines in her forehead.

Eileen tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear and twists back to face the seat in front and regrets ever answering.

“I see. I’m about to go to visit my daughter. Birthed Tina, my youngest granddaughter. Her third kid.” There is a simmering happiness in her voice and she adds, “The house is going to be rowdy when she returns with the babe. My grandson, especially, wouldn’t leave the baby alone even for a minute. Was like that when his younger brother was born. You would think he has more college work to do, but no, he just plays with the kid all day.” Eileen doesn’t miss the fondness lacing the annoyance she expresses.

The old woman doesn’t go on and Eileen rushes to fill the silence. “Um..she er..has my congratulations.” Eileen musters a smile and surprises herself again at the sincerity.

The genuine happiness this old woman radiated when she mentioned her family reminds Eileen of a time long gone. It’s painful to be reminded, but to see others with close families tied close like knots gives her hope.

The world did not end the day her father left. Nor did it shatter to pieces the day her mother was hospitalized, possibly, for the rest of her life.

It shattered her.

Eileen physically shakes her head at the thought and remembers the strangeness of the action when in a conversation for absolutely no reason. The old woman smiles at her albeit after a startled moment where Eileen guesses she must have picked up her thoughts.

“Thank you. I’ll tell her that a sweet and very polite young lady I met on the bus sends her congratulations. I’m sure she’ll be elated. Her son should learn from this young lady, I’ll tell her that too.” She chortles and lifts the tote bag on her lap, hooking it on her shoulders.

The bus stops and Eileen is grateful beyond words as it gives her the opportunity to turn around and exclaim surprise over the simple fact while staring at the hospital outside. The old woman doesn’t need to see her embarrassed reddened cheeks and pinched lips as she restrains a smile for a reason unknown to Eileen herself.

Eileen steps out of the bus and doesn’t rush to the awning like the way she usually did whenever she came on a day when it was raining. Eileen struggles against the routine, but waits, planting her heels deeper into the padding of her shoes as she waits for the old lady to step outside and waddle to the shelter. It just seems rude to walk off without her just after having a pleasant conversation.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. Go. You came for your mother right. I’ll be fine alone.” The old woman shoos her off a toothy smile bracing her lips and Eileen is off to the entrance of the hospital, her feet guiding her on memory alone.

A sharp tinge pierces her chest at the thought that this might be the last time she ever sees the old woman again.

.....

Her mother is asleep. Just like always. Eileen talks about her day: a dry report of chores at home and classes at college. The part time job she still does.

Eileen wonders whether she hears her voice. The doctors had told her that they didn’t know but to talk to her mother anyways. So she did.

These days she finds that there isn’t much she could say except the usual routine she tells. Eileen has it memorised from repetition. She doesn’t mention the little things that roam her mind day and night. The feeling that weighs down all other emotions she feels. The thinning hope that is closer to breaking and throwing her into the abyss of her own mind.

There is complete silence, except for the tick of the clock on the wall, and the large machine monitoring her mother’s heartbeat beeping every minute like an alarm waking Eileen to the reality before her as if Eileen needed waking.

It’s evening. Two hours after her arrival. The bus would arrive after another two hours.

Eileen picks up her notebook and flips through its pages. She crosses out the last line with unsteady fingers. Another uneventful day. Eileen debates whether she wants that mundaneness to change.

The memorable days of her life, the eventful ones weren’t necessarily happy.

Eileen knows what she wants and for that she has to wait. But wait for how long…..There it is again. She will not lose hope. Eileen forms the solid sentence in her mind clenching the duvet. She would have a happy family again like that old woman she met on the bus.

“I met a nice lady today,” Eileen says to the silence of the room. Her voice is hushed like she is telling a secret. “I really like her. She seems like the kind of person who loves everything and anything, mom.” The name sounds foreign from disuse. Eileen pushes on trying to wade through the barrage of sad thoughts. “Like grandmama.”

Eileen searches for words. For what to say next, to break the silence that is creeping into her lungs and filling it like lead.

She chokes on a sob and lets herself cry for the first time in years.

…..

Her eyes are puffy and Eileen, even through the storm of emotions running through her heart, finds herself embarrassed by her state. It’s a hospital. Eileen reminds herself and shoves her cold hands into her pockets. She rushes to the awning waiting for the bus. It’s late.

From her peripheral vision Eileen sees a little family of three step outside too, and she makes space moving to the corner. “Ah young lady.” It’s the old woman’s voice. Eileen turns around almost as if this new epithet has been her name all along.

Beside the lady is a young man, her age, with a toddler on his back. His backpack is on his front and there is a shy smile on his face.

Eileen smiles back at the family as the old woman ambles to her side. “We’re just coming back too. Want to have dinner with us? My daughter can give you a ride back home,” the old woman says.

Eileen’s plans usually didn’t involve dinner, much less dinner with an unknown family.

“These two’s aunt here.” She waves her hand at her grandkids interpreting the shock on Eileen’s face as confusion.

She hasn’t eaten since morning and hunger claws at her stomach at the thought of homemade food.

“I uh-” she starts as the bus halts with a loud creak.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The old woman slips her hands in hers and leads her to the bus. With a small incline of her head toward Eileen, she adds with a hopeful tone, “Right?”

Eileen bobs her head.

…….