The Stolen Luggage

I got off the bus feeling heavier than when I got on. The weight of what I was trying to leave behind had caught up with me. I remember feeling relief, weightless even, when I got on the bus but now it was all over. This was not what I had hoped for, but there was nothing I could do about it. I grabbed my lone luggage and crossed the street. The smell of the busy street was new to me, it wasn't like the smell of the small streets in the small town I had just left. This smell was thick, it felt as if I could feel it entering my nose, dragging itself into my lungs. Food trucks were everywhere, each loudly offering you a different cuisine. I wasn't hungry even after the eight-hour bus ride to this new place I would have to call home. I wandered a bit, looking lost I knew, but in reality I just needed time to accept what had just happened. My mother had died, I had lost our home and was being questioned about her death. There was no way I could stay, not in such a small town, being questioned by some, avoided by others and pitied by all. If I stayed, that would be all I would be known for, the only child of a woman who mysteriously died. I needed to start something new, I wanted a new identity, well actually I just didn't want to be known. I was fine with who I was, my name suited me, my values were well centered, I liked me. As this thought crossed my mind, I felt a great force yank me by the arm. Startled I realized It wasn't my arm that was being yanked, it was my luggage. I don’t know why but I didn’t scream, I didn’t move, I just watched the thief run off with my luggage. For a second I felt embarrassed at the thought of anyone noticing what had just happened. I just stood there, confused and then heartbroken.

           I sat down on a bench, in any other circumstance I would have checked the bench for gum, bird poop or dirt, now nothing mattered. What was stolen was only materialistic things, everything could be replaced. Luckily all the money I had to my name was still in my pocket. I had enough to get me through a couple of months living at a hotel while I figured things out. I finally got up and started walking towards a hotel I had seen on the way in. As I reached for the door handle the door opened on its own. I instinctively said sorry, that was one thing I did not like about myself, always apologizing for random things that made no sense. My mother, in her own words, thought I was socially awkward. I blamed it on being an only child. Luckily this man did not hear me and simply smiled. That smile! I knew that smile! A little crooked, a little cocky. I immediately looked back and to my horror he was looking back too. We both had confused looks on our faces but both looked away and kept walking in opposite directions. Confusion was the last feeling I needed to feel now. I needed clarity to get through this, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of knowing this man. I was not expecting such high prices and it turns out I only had enough to book the hotel for a month. I had no choice, I was not going back. I booked it for a month and went up the elevator with nothing in hand other than the hotel room key. I laid on that bed for what seemed to be a few minutes but later realized had been almost two hours. The day light was almost gone, I slept the day away, hoping that the next day would be less painful.        

           I woke up feeling heavy, why was this such a reoccurring feeling? I quite literally had nothing, no possessions, no thoughts, no emotions, yet I still felt heavy and small. I headed to the lobby looking for the bare necessities. I was handed soap and lotion but had to purchase toothpaste and a toothbrush. As the elevator doors opened the man from the day before appeared right before me. I immediately looked down, not exactly sure why, but I noticed he did the same. Now I was even more confused. I entered the elevator as he left it. Back in my room I tidied myself up as much as I could. I had to look for a job, anything would do I decided. I would not scoff at any available job, I would not try to use my degree, I would get whatever was available. As I exited the lobby I could tell that the man from before was right outside, apparently smoking. I needed to see his face again, I could not look down this time. As we crossed paths I heard myself saying good morning but then instinctively looked down again. He said good morning as well but this time I did not see if he looked down or looked at me. I decided that this should not take up space in my day, I had to find a job.

 I was lucky to score a cashier job at the first place I asked. I knew I should feel some kind of joy but I felt nothing. It was just one more thing to cross off my list. I would start in a couple of days. I lied and said I was a previously a cashier in a nearby town, I wasn’t questioned much, I honestly think they needed me more than I needed that job. I still didn’t feel hungry but I was beginning to feel weak from the lack of nourishment. The thought of simply not eating and slowly vanishing entered my head, but I quickly brushed it off. I am not the religious type but I have always been afraid of what some might consider a capital sin. I am not sure what that even means, but my mother always said that no matter what you did in your lifetime you could always repent, even if it was with your last breath. I decided to purchase a hotdog from a street vendor. He tried to make small talk but I am the worst at it, I bet I came off as rude. I continued walking around for a few hours, just trying to avoid being still and actually thinking. Eventually I had to stop and with the halt came the thoughts. My mother had been sick for a while, five years to exact. Being an only child meant that there was no question about who would care for her. I was there until her very last breath. The doctors warned her about going home, they said she still had a chance but needed to be at the hospital. She swore her time had come and simply wanted to be home. That was 3 years ago. The people in town were shocked at first and later became accustomed to her presence. For the first two years of being home she was quite active, attending all the regular town stuff, people started to forget how sick she really was. She hid it well. I was the only one that saw her reality, constantly having to clean after her because she couldn’t move, or couldn’t move fast enough. I wont lie and say it didn’t feel like a burden because it did, more than once I wondered when this would end but quickly felt guilty because I knew that if it ended it would mean she was gone. The last year had been specifically hard. She stopped going out as much but still put on a brave face when she did. People started to assume that I was forcing her to stay home, and she never corrected them. I didn’t like talking to people much, cant even say that I left any friends behind.

The night she passed away I didn’t know what to do or who to call. I simply called an ambulance to come and check for the pulse I had frantically been checking for before calling them. The ambulance drew attention to the situation and when word got out everyone was confused. The rumors quickly started. I heard them all, its as if they were not trying to hide them. Some thought I had stopped caring for her properly, didn’t follow doctor’s orders and others went as far as to claim that I caused it in order to get rid of this responsibility. I knew my conscious was clear and I wouldn’t have to repent of anything involving my mother’s death at my last breath. I wish things would have been different, I wanted to mourn her in our home. Now I was in a new town trying to make a new life. It was almost dinner time when I decided to just go back to my hotel room.

Entering the lobby I saw my stolen luggage by the front counter. I was shocked, confused but didn’t do anything. I looked around but no one was directly next to it. What if it wasn’t my luggage. I couldn’t just walk up and take it. I decided to stick around until I saw someone get it. I had to wait a long time, aimlessly looking out the window, pacing around pretending to read the signs posted, but then he grabbed the luggage. The same man I kept seeing over and over again!  As soon as his hand touched it I remembered where I knew him from! He had been the thief that yanked the luggage out of my hand! I saw him walk away with my luggage once again. Once again I just stood there not doing anything, feeling my legs feel so heavy that it felt like they were glued to the floor.

Why would he use the luggage in the same hotel that I was staying in? Maybe he didn’t know I was the one he stole it from, I thought. I was so confused but debated whether it was even worth the fight. I didn’t have anything important in it. A clean set of clothes would be nice but not necessary. I let it go, I wouldn’t know how confront him about it even if I wanted to. I left the hotel in search of something new to wear. I walked a lot during this time, I didn’t have the money to call a taxi but walking did me good, it served as a distraction.                                     The next day I saw the man in the lobby again. I didn’t look down this time, I looked directly at him and said good morning. It’s as if knowing he was a thief gave me more confidence, I had something on him and that made me feel above him. He said good morning as well and smiled widely which made me realize I was smiling widely too. The scene almost became comedic. After my morning walk I had lunch at the same hotdog stand and was a bit better at the small talk. Back at the hotel I did not see the man for that whole day anymore. Three days passed and nothing, I assumed he had left the hotel. On the fourth day I saw him again in the lobby. We both smiled as if we knew each other and were glad to see each other once again. He asked me about the weather and my uniform. He said he thought I was brave for working at that store because a lot of robberies took place there. I chuckled and said I hoped I would make it through the night safely. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or was really unaware of who I was. The small talk continued for the next two weeks. It became a routine of ours that I looked forward to on my way out to work. One night he was at the door on my way in from work which was not something that had happened before. He was smoking and offered me one but I politely refused. He then asked if I would be interested in maybe grabbing lunch sometime. I smiled and said yes. No time was set, no place was chosen but I had said yes, yes to the man that stole my luggage. By this time I had accumulated a few outfits and found myself thinking about what I would wear for this outing that was just out there in the air with no set parameters. I was giddy, dumbly giddy. I didn’t like the feeling but was glad I was feeling something. I was not the dating type, never had a serious man in my life. I always put my studies first and when I was done with school I started to care for my sick mother. Now there was nothing stopping me, other than the fact that it was a thief I had decided to go out with.

Things didn’t evolve quite like I wanted them to. It took time, we didn’t go out for lunch until about a week later when he randomly brought up the subject again in-between our small talk. He asked if today would be a good day to grab lunch. I wanted to act cool but know I probably looked more excited than I would have wanted to when I said yes. Our outing was so good. He was so easy to talk to. He told me about his childhood, his siblings, the town he had left in search of making it big. The thing was he didn’t have a plan, he just outgrew his town he said. He had been in this city for six months already and he still didn’t know what he was looking for. I told him a bit about my life but left out all the tragic stuff.                                                     Two days later we were eating out again. I couldn’t tell where this was going, was he seeing me like a friend? My doubts quickly diminished when he held my hand over the table and asked if the next one could be a proper date. I was giddy again.                                                            I looked over my slim option of outfits and couldn’t decide on anything to wear. I had to hurry because he was very punctual and I loved that about him. He was already by the door as I got out of the elevator. He seemed nervous but a cute kind of nervous. Our date was magical, everything was so effortlessly fun. A nice meal followed by a walk to our hotel. Our rooms were in different floors and as he got off on his floor he put his hand around my waist and kissed me goodnight. That giddy feeling was there again. I laid awake in my bed until very late that night, I smiled the whole time I am sure. From time to time I would question what I was doing knowing his history. I tried to rationalize and justify his actions. He was here alone, didn’t know what he was doing with his life, maybe he was desperate. Our next date was just as magical and not once did I ever think about bringing up my luggage. It seemed dumb now.                  

Months passed and I was now in love. Love was the last thing on my mind but it happened. We spent most of our time together and decided to move into just one room. We were going to figure life out together. We frequently had deep long talks about what we wanted for our future. He once expressed that he was glad he found me, that being alone had made him a different person but now he felt like himself again. I wondered if the luggage incident was what he was referring to. When I moved into his room I saw my luggage but never found any of my stuff. It didn’t matter now. We both deserved this happy ending.