Author: David Santura PM
OneShot. "We all have problems in life. How we deal with them is the real test of our character."Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance - Words: 824 - Published: 06-15-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3032641
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I sat there just staring. It seemed like eternity.
I loved the feeling of seeing a girl with such a beautiful face and not having a plan. I didn't feel the pressure of needing to talk to her. I could just be content with watching her from afar. Then, she looked over at me, making me nonchalantly move my gaze to the window instead.
I saw a smile spread across her face out of the corner of my eye as she went back to reading her book.
She spent most of the ride ignoring me but she did not know that I was not stupid. I saw every time she stole a glance at me. Whether she knew it or not, I did.
She started to get up but a passing attendant told her to sit until the train came to a stop. She looked over at me. I knew was going to come talk to me at the next stop. My stop was the one after that.
I could run from this. I could be gone so fast, she would wonder if I had jumped out the window behind me. I could be out of the country before she could get to this spot.
However, I am not that kind of man. I like problems. They soothe me with promises of normality. No matter how much I may feel that I am strange, different, or 'unique'. These problems are the things that tell me that I am like everyone else in at least one way.
We all have problems, and how we deal with them is the real test of our character.
The conductor announced that we were just a few short minutes from the next stop. I did not know her name or place of origin. I did not know her past, present, or future. I only knew that she was headed towards me. Like a freight train, she coming whether I was ready or not.
She was in the seat across from me now. She was looking out the window nonchalantly. I wondered how long she would wait. I wondered why she waited. Did she want to seem mysterious? Did she want to catch me by surprise? What was her motive?
Then I remembered something I had picked up a while ago. Watching and waiting was pure agony. Letting the other person make the first move was like sacrificing your king in a chess game to capture your opponent's queen. It was pointless and was not worth all the suspense. It was also not worth losing so much control over the situation.
"Hi. I'm David." I said, smiling, reaching out, and offering my hand to her.
She looked at me with surprise as if I had just threatened to actually jump out of the window. Then, she took my hand saying, "Aurora," with a smile and an ever so slightly cocked head.
I knew this would be a very short conversation. It would end one of two ways. We would either go our separate ways, never to see each other again, never giving each other so much as a single second thought, or we would exchange cell phone numbers, date a little and see where it goes from there.
I desperately wished for the latter. In Shakespeare's words, 'It truly is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all'. However, I cannot bring myself to grieve much at all if the first option were to become a reality. In our lives, we have so many chance encounters with strangers we have never met and never again will meet. It is actually quite sad if you think of how large a percentage could have actually had a nice relationship with you.
We talked for a few minutes. We talked about pointless small talk. Things like 'where are you from' and 'what do you do' until I decided to break the typical, predictable conversation. "I wish we could stay and talk but my stop is coming soon. Let's try to be serious here. I don't know you and you don't know me. I think you're cute as do you, me. That much is clear to both of us." I say. At this point she's blushing at how transparent to me she really is.
The conductor came over the intercom and informed us that we had arrived at my stop. "I do hope to see you around though." I say as I shake her hand and leave.
I wonder if that was a mean thing to do, to just be so brutally honest about it. I don't think so, is the answer I come up with as I picture her opening her hand to reveal the paper I had placed there. On it I had written the address of a coffee shop and a time I would be there.
No, it wasn't the worst thing I could have done.