Wait For Me-Sanjana Mathur
He had always been drawn to shoes. They were there one thing that left a lasting impression on him. Despite not being able to remember faces or voices, he would always remember the shoes.
He sat at the train station, keeping his eyes fixed downwards, observing the feet of passers by, his long messy hair shielding his face from the curious glances thrown his way.
The train would arrive soon. People could already be seen gathering at the platform, yet he didn’t move. It was a small game that he liked to play. He would challenge himself by seeing how finely he could cut the time between his arrival and the train’s.
For brief moments, his eyes would leave their keen observation of the passing shoes, to flicker up to the large clock and timetable that was situated above the bench on which he sat. It was almost time.
His eyes shifted their gaze downwards again, to settle on a pair of black suede sneakers, which held his gaze. They seemed familiar, and brought a wave of nostalgia washing over him. Whose were they? He didn’t know. They just felt as though they held some importance in his life, and he felt compelled to follow them.
He could hear the distant rumbling of his train pulling into the station, but a brief glimpse of auburn hair that vanished as soon as it appeared, sent him tripping after the shoes with only one thought on his mind, “Could it be?”
Stumbling into a clear patch around the ticket counter, his suspicion was confirmed.
“Kira” he breathed, so softly that he was surprised when her head whipped around at the sound of her name.
Shock was evident on her face as well, as it morphed from questioning to recognition. Her only reply was “Nathan”. There was a brief moment before they hugged, a moment when they were 16 again. They parted and returned to being two separate adults who happened to be acquainted. Where should one pick up from after 10 years? After 10 years of being helplessly in love with each other, faces that they had not seen in ages; faces that they thought and hoped they would never see again. What one did was engage in a pleasant domestic conversation about the present. Jobs; recent movies; news. The one thing that they did not touch upon was love life, and the past, for fear of what could be.
Both agreed to a lunch at a café. Both had missed their trains. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she hadn’t changed much. Maybe, just maybe something was possible.
The evening brought an offer from her to drop him home. The train was delayed; there was no point in waiting much longer. He called his sister to tell her that he wasn’t coming. They made their way to the exit, to be greeted by a silver haired man with the fist of a small girl clutched in his hand.
“Kira! Lily and I were worried about you!” The man called her by her first name. Was he a friend? Or maybe it was her brother with her niece.
“Mike, this is an old friend of mine.” She paused for a moment, uncertainty glistening in her eyes, before she continued. “Nathan, this is my husband Mike and my daughter Lily”
She had given up on him and moved on, and now finally gave him the permission to do the same. But the uncertainty in her eyes brought him back to the train station every Sunday.
He had always been drawn to shoes. They were there one thing that left a lasting impression on him. Despite not being able to remember faces or voices, he would always remember the shoes.
He sat at the train station, keeping his eyes fixed downwards, observing the feet of passers by, his long messy hair shielding his face from the curious glances thrown his way.
The train would arrive soon. People could already be seen gathering at the platform, yet he didn’t move. It was a small game that he liked to play. He would challenge himself by seeing how finely he could cut the time between his arrival and the train’s.
For brief moments, his eyes would leave their keen observation of the passing shoes, to flicker up to the large clock and timetable that was situated above the bench on which he sat. It was almost time.
His eyes shifted their gaze downwards again, to settle on a pair of black suede sneakers, which held his gaze. They seemed familiar, and brought a wave of nostalgia washing over him. Whose were they? He didn’t know. They just felt as though they held some importance in his life, and he felt compelled to follow them.
He could hear the distant rumbling of his train pulling into the station, but a brief glimpse of auburn hair that vanished as soon as it appeared, sent him tripping after the shoes with only one thought on his mind, “Could it be?”
Stumbling into a clear patch around the ticket counter, his suspicion was confirmed.
“Kira” he breathed, so softly that he was surprised when her head whipped around at the sound of her name.
Shock was evident on her face as well, as it morphed from questioning to recognition. Her only reply was “Nathan”. There was a brief moment before they hugged, a moment when they were 16 again. They parted and returned to being two separate adults who happened to be acquainted. Where should one pick up from after 10 years? After 10 years of being helplessly in love with each other, faces that they had not seen in ages; faces that they thought and hoped they would never see again. What one did was engage in a pleasant domestic conversation about the present. Jobs; recent movies; news. The one thing that they did not touch upon was love life, and the past, for fear of what could be.
Both agreed to a lunch at a café. Both had missed their trains. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she hadn’t changed much. Maybe, just maybe something was possible.
The evening brought an offer from her to drop him home. The train was delayed; there was no point in waiting much longer. He called his sister to tell her that he wasn’t coming. They made their way to the exit, to be greeted by a silver haired man with the fist of a small girl clutched in his hand.
“Kira! Lily and I were worried about you!” The man called her by her first name. Was he a friend? Or maybe it was her brother with her niece.
“Mike, this is an old friend of mine.” She paused for a moment, uncertainty glistening in her eyes, before she continued. “Nathan, this is my husband Mike and my daughter Lily”
She had given up on him and moved on, and now finally gave him the permission to do the same. But the uncertainty in her eyes brought him back to the train station every Sunday.
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