And she wasn’t there

Each day – for the past two months and some – when I get off my bus and walk the couple hundred  metres  to the hole office I work at, I take a left turn off Union, down the dingy stairs via the back roads on to Guild street and then into work. Most days I am plugged into my iPod, listening to whatever catches my fancy on that day, hands in my pocket deep in thought. Nine days out of ten, just before I take  the turn I see her – a lone black face bobbing in a sea of browns and whites,  wrapped up to the nines waiting for her bus. She can’t be more than 5′-2″, usually rocks a ‘fro and dangles her little bag in the tell-tale Nigerian chic ninety-degree arm pose.  At first all there was were a couple of  furtive glances, followed by the straight face pretending-I-never-took-a-peek look. And then with time, and the familiarity of a shared routine, there was the almost imperceptible nod and the odd mouthed greeting.

Today, just before I took the turn, I looked, but she wasn’t there.  As I walked the last few steps to work, there was a certain sense of disappointment as though I were a kid who had been promised a treat which was taken away at the final moment.  I got to thinking about how one face – however distant and removed – merely by being there and by its sameness can become part of a routine, something to be looked forward to amidst the frothing morass that is daily life.

I do not think our non-verbal exchanges  – if I can call these exchanges – have ever extended beyond a couple of seconds at the most, but for me at least they have become part of my commute. In a logic-defying way, I am left hoping that she will be there…tomorrow.

9 thoughts on “And she wasn’t there

  1. @rethots: I'm more of a slow developer when it comes to these things,… 🙂

    @raindropsonarose: sadly, she still wasn't….. I'll be keeping my eyes skinned though.


  2. Good stuff, day by day I realize that we are similar. I hope you talk to her cos if you were like me, I have a gift for procrastinating when it comes to talking to such ladies until they are out of my reach


  3. Guy,

    Much as I have done like you a lot of times (still do)…next time -if there is one- talk to her. Please.

    …Else, I'm gonna have to come kick ur arse and take her for myself. We wouldn't want that, would we?


  4. Oh dude!!! i know how you feel. six years ago there was this beautiful man that used to sit across from me on the early morning train to Manhattan from Queens. He was always well dressed, something about his glossy, milky brown skin always caught my attention, i loved his soft hair and always dared myself to touch it – never did – in fact there were so many things i loved about this guy, even the way he used to bop to music from his ipod seemed to cool to me…*swoon* I'll never forget the first day we locked eyes, i was so shy, i thought i would melt. But soon after that he was the reason i never missed the train.

    We never spoke to each other.

    Three months later, I was on a plane back from NYC to London and that was the end of that. I told my husband about this guy a couple of weeks ago, now that I think about it, now I understand why he insits on driving me most places 😉

    Considering how much i love MrLuffa, i guess it's not the end of the world that I never spoke to the beautiful man.


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