Of Strangers and Friends

“Hey this is Rena. Sorry I couldn’t answer your call at this time. If ya know me leave a message!”

“Hey, it’s Jeremy…again. I’ll be in the city today so if you’d like to hang out I’d be game, just let me know, hope to hear from you soon, bye.”

I pressed the “hang up” button as firmly as I could, sliding the phone bad into the inside pocket of my jacket. Totally not as satisfying as the ‘ol flip phones, I remembered nostalgically. It wasn’t often I went to the city, but I always gave time at least once a month to visit, strolling around their main park and visiting their luxurious library. It took about the same time using the train or car, but parking was always a mess so I always took the train. Rena was an old friend from university. We had a little group we stuck with the get through the hectic years, and I always kept in contact even after graduation. It’s been three months since she last touched base, I worried to myself, I hope nothing bad happened to her.

The station was bustling as ever, people on their own journeys to and from destinations. Some people even commuted from here to work in the city. Must be a good job to commute an hour both ways, I thought wistfully to myself. I didn’t enjoy the city life, and quiet was always a boon to my craft. I shook my head as I remembered almost messing up a pot I was shaping when a sports car just outside my shop let it rip, the roar making me almost jump into my own work.

As I approached the turnstiles, twirling my pass in its lanyard, I noticed a woman looking a bit frantic. She was well-dressed, hair done up and wearing a high-waisted split skirt and a buttoned blouse with slightly puffy sleeves. She paced back and forth on her small-heeled black shoes, holding a heavy-looking tote. It looked like she was trying to ask people passing by for something, only the pull herself back as if afraid to commit. Must have forgotten her pass, I speculated. I stood for a second, observing her efforts. It seemed like everyone was too concerned with making their next destination to want the inconvenience of helping her. I rolled my eyes at myself. C’mon, Jeremy, don’t do this to yourself. But I was already walking towards her.

“Ma’am, ma’am,” I called out. She turned to my voice, I lifted my pass, “Forgot your pass?”

“Oh yes! Thank you so much! I’m so sorry, I left in a bit of a rush trying to get these books turned in today before they’re overdue and I forgot mine, I’m sorry! I can pay you afterwards, but I’d really appreciate it if—” I raised my hand sharply in front of her.

“It’s alright, ma’am, I got time,” I said, “No pressure, I’m just visiting the city casually so it’s no problem, really.” I started walking before she could start gushing, motioning she follow me. We got to the turnstiles. I swiped my pass, pushed through, then tossed it back to her. She followed suit, struggling a bit with the tote, so I reached over to assist her. Damn, this thing is heavy!

“Thank you, thank you.” She said, shouldering the tote once more. I frowned.

“You’re welcome,” I returned, “But now let me ask you a favor.” She looked at me with confusion.

“Will you let me help you with that?” I pointed to the tote bag, “The library is still quite a walk from the station and it’s quite heavy.”

“No, I can manage.”

“You might just miss the check in time.” She furrowed her brow at me, but before she could reply the PA announced the departure time of the next train into town; we had five minutes. I already had purchased my ticket in advance, the QR code ready to scan at the door. I figured she might have not bought hers already.

“Have you bought your ticket yet?” Her brow furrowed even further.

“No.” I extended my arms; she rolled her eyes and handed the heavy tote to me.

“Let’s hope we don’t miss the train.”

My right arm was already straining by the time we reached the train doors, the woman successfully buying her ticket online in record time. Waves of relief reached my arm as I switched the bag to my left, pulling my phone out to get my ticket scanned.

The train wasn’t as packed as I had expected, must be because of the weekend, I figured. There were plenty of open seats, so I quickly chose the closest one and sat down. The lady sat a seat apart from me, so I put the tote in between us.

“Gods, what kinda books are even in there? Encyclopedias?” She zipped open the tote and pulled a thickly bound book from the depths and held it up. It looked older; the smell of leather quite pleasant. With a grunt she hefted the tote into her seat as she sat next to me, handing me the book. I read the title: An Artist’s Journey Through the Ages. I flipped open to a random page, the paper giving off that satisfying crackle.

“Vincent van Goh, a classic,” she commented, “But there’s so much more beautiful art people are missing.” She began flipping through pages, showing me pictures of works through time, talking passionately about their histories. I was so caught up in the narrative that before I knew it, we were pulling into the city station. I looked at my watch, it was almost eleven.

“We have an hour to spare!” I exclaimed. She pulled out her phone to double-check.

“Oh, that’s a relief.” As we stepped out into the station, something dawned on me. I laughed.

“What?”

“I don’t even know your name!!?” I smiled, reaching out my hand, “Jeremy.” She shook it.

“Clarissa.”

As we walked towards the library, we talked more about each other. I found out she’s getting her masters in art, currently working from her small studio back in town. I told her about my pottery work, and we struck gold, discussing methods, techniques, and historical pieces. Despite her fashionable appearance, she was actually quite down to earth. I didn’t notice this earlier, but she almost wore no makeup and no earrings. Still, better taste than mine. I wore my cleanest pair of jeans, a grey shirt, and jacket; plain and simple.

We finally arrived at the main library. Even having been here many times I still stood in silent awe at the numerous floors tunneling upwards, the smell of books, the sounds of dampened footsteps and floating whispers. Clarissa led me up the ornate wooden spiral staircase to the second floor, where she talked to a kindly old librarian, who received and checked each of her books with great care. The old man disappeared into a locked room, returning with a rolling cart with several equally old-looking books, which he began scanning and placing into the tote bag. SHE GOT MORE!? The look on my face must’ve been quite dramatic, because Clarissa cracked up, laughing so hard nothing came out, tears pouring down her face. I went with it, hefting the tote bag with feigned disgust; I think Clarissa almost fainted from not breathing.

“Well then,” I said, as we exited the library, “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I know a few good places around the city I was planning to visit. If you’d like, you are free to tag along, but that’s fine if you need to get going already. I can swipe you through the station.”

“No, that’s fine,” she said, then mockingly, “I got time.”

The rest of the day was a blur of events. I showed her the best food cart in the city, their spicy sauce rumored the hottest you could find. We window shopped through the still-vibrant central mall, grabbing some rolled ice cream along the way. A few street performers caught our attention, break dancers pulling off gravity-defying moves. We strolled the large park, watching the diversity of people and types that it attracted, dodging cyclers, skaters, and runners on the path. Evening approached, and Clarissa did have to do some work at home before the day ended, so we made our way back to the station. We cracked open one of her new rentals and pored over the pages, time once again falling by the wayside until we arrived at our hometown’s station.

“Will you be okay hauling this home?” I asked, passing her the hefty tote.

“Oh yeah, my car is parked somewhere over there, I’ll be fine.” She made to leave, but caught herself.

“Thank you, Jeremy.” She smiled, and it was my turn to lose the air in my lungs.

“You—you’re welcome,” I squeaked out, “Um, keep in touch?”

“Sure! Let’s trade numbers.” I handed her my phone, she added herself in.

“Feel free to reach out wherever,” she said, placing the phone back in my hand, “Especially if you’re going into the city.”

“Yeah, no problem!”

“Bye, take care! It was fun!”

“Bye, don’t forget your pass next time.” I winked, she stuck out her tongue. I stood there for a moment, soaking the day in. I glanced at my phone again; no new notifications. I don’t’ think Rena will ever get back to me, I figured.

And in my heart, I was actually fine with that.