The Familiar Stranger

Maya left the office and began her journey home. She was a reasonably attractive woman in her 30s, and life appeared to be good. She was based in a large corporate office, working a regular, well-paid admin job, surrounded by many young, fun, apparently “like-minded” work colleagues. Strange how she constantly felt disconnected from life. By the end of the day, her whole jawline ached, where she had been clenching her teeth due to multiple self-induced anxiety-ridden moments.   

As she left the office that evening and walked along the road, she realised she was engaging in a full-blown argument in the labyrinth of her troubled head. Her sparring partner was the girl sitting at the opposite desk in the office. Her colleague had dared to say that she preferred ginger cats to grey cats, and despite Maya’s beloved Smokey dying many years ago, Maya went ballistic and took the colleague to task. For the rest of the day, Maya sat planning the demise of the work colleague. Later, walking home alone, she could finally indulge her fantasy and take on the hated foe. Only when she noticed that several people had turned to stare at her did she realise that she had begun to shout aloud.  How dare these people stare at her?  

Maya had long ago convinced herself that her abilities were low and lived in constant fear that her colleagues would soon "discover" that she couldn’t do her job. She would jealously look at how her colleagues approached their jobs and felt she didn’t compare. Her nights in bed were constantly interrupted by nightmares as her supposed inadequacies disturbed her much-needed sleep. The next day, arriving in the office, she had worked herself into a deep loathing for the day ahead and everyone she worked with. In her head, the worst crime her workmates committed was that they dared to enjoy their days in the office,  

On her way home that evening, as she stomped along the road, hating everyone and everything and elbowing anyone who had the nerve to get in her way, she caught her arm on a woman approaching in the opposite direction. Maya's face was instantly thunderous—how dare this woman impede her homeward journey? She turned to stare, outraged at the stranger, ready for the fight with the pavement-combatant. The woman was much older than herself but eerily familiar. Where on earth had Maya seen her before?

She stared at the woman, noting the charming, sunny face that refused to react to Maya’s threatening body language. The woman was everything she wanted to be. She had a good figure, flawless makeup, and flattering, expertly styled layered hair. Looking at the woman with deep loathing, Maya curled her lip and stared at the woman from head to foot, ensuring her facial expression delivered an aggressive, non-verbal insult. The woman, in return, dared to smile and shook her head pityingly.  This wasn’t how most of her aggressive encounters ended up. Generally, the person she had just attacked with her elbows looked terrified and determinedly sought to put as much distance from her attacker as she could. But the pretty woman, still wearing the same pleasant expression, looked back intently at her, then turned and walked away.  

Usually, she would have run after the woman and shouted in her face, “Who the hell are you looking at?” But peculiarly, she felt some of her bad temper slowly lifting. A slight feeling of calm entered her body as she continued along the road, and as her breathing became more regular, she decided to pop into the pub for a quick drink before returning to her lonely flat.

**************

Sitting alone in the pub on a Monday night, she thought about the approaching working week. She experienced the ritualistic feeling of dread she had every Monday night, and her emotions would plummet. When at work, Maya used to amaze herself when a loud laugh frequently emitted from her tiny, tight mouth. She was always shocked when her colleagues said what fun she was when she viewed herself as an unfortunate and lonely woman.  

During that same week, while walking home from work each evening, she saw the woman again and again. Maya glanced up as the woman passed her, looking beautifully turned out and wafting a delightful French perfume in her wake. 

Who the hell is she? There is something familiar about her, but I can’t figure out where I might know her. She’s too old to be an acquaintance? But with those clothes and make-up, I bet she lives a glorious life.  I wonder how she’d react if I said hello to her. She seems to keep smiling at me, so perhaps I could ask her to join me in the pub? 

At the end of one particularly dreadful day full of imagined insults, she elbowed people out of her way while barging along the pavement, her lousy temper displayed on her tired face. Ahead of her, she saw the woman approaching. The woman looked directly at her and dared to smile. Maya was horror-struck that their eyes had locked, and she immediately tucked her head down almost to her chest, initially preparing to stumble up the road.  

Damn it. Say hello to the woman. She thinks she knows you, too.

**********

Maya couldn’t get over that she had actually said hello to the stranger in the street and, what’s more, had managed to force her lips into an attempt at a smile.  

The woman smiled warmly, “Hello, we keep bumping into each other. Do you fancy a drink?”  

Maya nearly lost her balance. She couldn’t recall the last time she had had a drink with anyone, let alone a stranger who looked normal!  Maya wasn’t stupid. She knew that she seemed to terrify most people, and the last person who had spoken to her was the man who grabbed her coat collar and screamed, “You bump into me one more time, lady, and it will be your last action … ever”. Apart from colleagues in the office, she didn’t know anyone who dressed like this woman and smelt as beautifully as she did.  

Fancy her asking me to go for a drink?

Maya took her to the nearby pub, which she knew so well. As she strode in, the barman shouted, “The usual?” She was furious. How dare he say “The usual,” as if insinuating she came here regularly.  

“A bottle of red wine and two glasses, please,” Maya ordered, ignoring the barman’s greeting. The woman had already reached a table and waited for Maya to join her.  

Maya arrived nervously, clasping the red wine like an old friend and placing it and the glasses on the table. Oh, how she longed to swallow that first glass, but she was terrified the woman might judge her. She tried to pour the woman a glass, but a hand was firmly placed over the glass.  

“Not for me, Maya - but you enjoy”.  

She furiously glugged down the nectar and licked her lips appreciatively, and only then did she notice that the woman knew her name. 

Ah, so she does know me.  

They looked at one another. The woman smiled encouragingly. 

“Maya, I am so glad you said hello and agreed to come with me for a drink. How kind of you.” 

That voice! It’s pretty distinctive. I’ve heard it before. She must be an actress. I must ask her where her hair is cut - I love the style. I like the look of everything about this woman. I love her lipstick colour. I wonder who the hell she is.

Maya attempted to smile at the woman, but her stiff, sad face didn’t move much. She would need another few glasses of wine to relax after the dreadful day she had experienced in the office.

“I keep seeing you on my way home from work. Do you work in the City?” said Maya.

“No, not anymore. Obviously, I used to, but I left quite a few years ago,” said the woman in a cheerful, distinctive voice.

What does she mean by “obviously”? Why is it “obvious” that she worked in the City?

The woman sitting opposite smiled at her encouragingly.  

“Where do I know you from?” the wine-courageous, exasperated Maya asked. 

The woman laughed. It was a lovely laugh. The more mature face broke out into the most attractive facial wrinkles. Strangely, Maya thought how irresistible the older face looked. She feared becoming old and wrinkled and often felt that her life was over at 36. She ran her eyes over the woman’s hair and noted that it was blonde and thick like hers. 

Confused, Maya looked at the woman, waiting for the woman to speak.  

The woman leaned in towards Maya. Maya stared back at her, admiring her beautiful complexion and lovely eyes, and frankly, almost fell in love with the image sitting opposite her.  

“So you don’t recognise me?” said the woman.  

This is weird. There’s something about her that is making me feel very strange.

“Maya,” said the woman gently “I’m you. I am the older Maya.”

The younger woman took an inexplicable gasp and initially felt spooked by the person opposite her. 

“But you can’t be me.” she wailed. “You look too pretty; your skin is 100% better than mine despite being much older than me. You keep smiling. I don’t smile. I love your voice - that’s not my voice.”

“This is all you, Maya. If you change your poor lifestyle, you will be amazed to see how much your face changes. That frankly sour expression will leave your face, and a pleasant, positive woman will slowly emerge instead of someone who quarrels with everyone. Your voice will start to have a cheerful timbre, and eventually, your voice will sound like mine.”

Young Maya looked confused and was ready to argue with the woman. “You can’t be me. Our ages are completely different, and your clothes and shoes….. no! You are not me!”

“I used to look like you. I used to act like you and fight with everyone. I felt lonely and misunderstood. I loathed my job. I felt just different from everyone. What surprised me was when I eventually asked people how they viewed me - they said they thought of me as a happy, positive, exciting woman, attractive and talented. I was the only person who thought I was useless, unattractive and hated!”

Maya sat open-mouthed. The full glass of red wine she had so desperately looked forward to drinking in one gulp was suddenly no longer appealing, and her hand began to push the glass from her. The two women continued to observe each other as the familiar pounding headache began to lift. She slowly felt red, life-enhancing blood pumping through the greyness of her tired face.  

“Am I drunk?” she finally asked the woman.

“Don’t know. I think the real question is, “Am I ever sober?”  

Maya immediately began to protest. The older woman put her hand between them to stop Maya from complaining. 

“Do you think you want to change?”  

Maya nodded. 

“OK, tell me what you want to change about yourself.” 

“I want to become you. How can I become you?” asked Maya excitedly.

“That entirely depends on your choices”, said the older woman. “Make the wrong choices, and you could become that person over there,” she said, pointing to what looked like a pile of filthy rags. Maya whirled around. Was it a person? Looking closely at Maya, the older woman said. “It’s entirely up to you.”

Maya again looked at the rags and was horrified - they moved! 

“Where the hell did that disgusting pile come from?  Oooh the smell! I didn’t notice it before.”

“That’s also you, Maya”, said the lovely lady. “Cover your nose and go and look at the face. See if you can recognise yourself. The version in the corner is much younger than me because it doesn’t live as long as I do”.  

The younger Maya burst into tears. “Please don’t let me become the drunk tramp”, she babbled. Her whole body shook, and she felt sick inside. “What can I do to make sure I become you?”  

“The choice is entirely yours, Maya. No one will push you - from here on, everything is your choice. I suggest that you think about the changes you need to make. You are looking at your impending future. It is up to you which version you choose in the future. It can be me - the version sitting opposite you - or the pile of urine-stained rags snoring in the corner. 

Maya shuddered. “I want to be you…… I love you.”

“What is it that most appeals to you about me?”

“You look happy and fulfilled. You look as if you made the right choices in life. When I saw you in the street the first time, it was the expression on your face that attracted me. You have the face I want.”

The lovely lady laughed, “Well, let’s have a good long chat.” 

Maya nodded.“Did you look like me?”

“Yes. I WAS YOU….. but now I’m me. OMG, Maya, you are smiling.”

The two of them began to work on a list. As they worked, Maya seemed to become more enthusiastic about her future life.

“Will you be with me every day, helping and guiding me? Will we be best friends?”

“Depends, Maya, on the choices you make. If you choose to make poor choices, I can’t exist anymore. I can only become the person you make me. If I am the person you want to become, make positive choices. However, if you think you can cheat and choose all the wrong possibilities, go and look at the other version of you in the corner - because that is how you will end up.”

“Please, please don’t leave me”, Maya’s voice broken with tears. The lovely lady stood up and hugged the sobbing woman.

**************

Much later, when she stood up to leave the pub, she felt entirely different. She looked around the pub and knew that if her plan went well, she wouldn’t be coming back here. The lovely lady remained at the table and waved goodbye. An infinitely happier, smiling Maya walked onto the street and saw a newspaper vendor. She bought a copy and knew she would spend the rest of the evening pouring over the Jobs Section when she got home.

As she walked up the road, Maya saw a young teenage schoolgirl approaching her. The girl's heavy brown leather satchel hung painfully around her shoulders, and she looked near to tears. Maya felt the girl staring at her, and she turned and gave the girl a big, encouraging smile.  

“Hi,” she said brightly, talking to her younger self.

“Hi,” said the young girl miserably.

“Is it homework? That bag looks heavy.”

“Yes, I’ve got hours of work to do“, said the girl near tears.

“Oh, I remember exactly what that was like. If I were to relive my school days, I think I would find a good, positive friend in class and arrange to do our homework together.” 

The young Maya smiled and said: “Thanks, that’s a great idea.”

“By the way, that’s a great smile you’ve got - use it often. I hope we bump into each other again and share tales of our good fortune. Night, night.”