The Distraction Man

I anxiously fidgeted with the clasp on my bag. That was the best I could do, as my nails were already bitten to the skin and my toes were tired of tapping. I had been sitting here for an hour, waiting. Nervousness had crawled from my toes and reached my heart, which was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. I watched trains pass by over and over again, trying hard to push my anxiety down to my feet. I checked my watch for what seemed like the hundredth time, noticing that I was not early, but what I was waiting for was simply late. If it didn’t come, I didn’t know what I would do. 

The bench I was on was not comfortable. It forced me to shift uncomfortably every five minutes or so. I bit my lower lip and started imagining what could possibly be holding the train up. Part of me wanted to go home, but most of me overruled wanting to stay and wait as long as possible. I sighed and shifted. Shifted and sighed. Minutes past. The people around the station became less and less. 

I laid back as far as I could on the wooden bench. I forced myself to stay awake, but soon it became pointless. No more trains were coming. I sighed again. Finally I made up my mind that I had to leave. I picked up my bag and exited the train station.

The night air was very crisp and cold. I buttoned up my coat and buried my head deeper into the warmth. I could see my breath, although not very clearly. I climbed into my car and leaned back into the chair. After a few minutes of thoughts, I started the car and drove home. At home I got ready for bed and watched a movie, trying to take my thoughts off of my disappointment. As I lay in bed, my thoughts turned back to the train station. I wearily looked over at my phone. I picked it up and scrolled through texts. No warning about lateness had come. I checked my calls. No one had called that I hadn’t answered. I must admit: I did cry a little, though I tried my best to stay strong while thinking. I told myself maybe I had gotten the date wrong. Maybe it was tomorrow or yesterday that it had been. The calendar on my phone said differently. I said maybe they had gotten lost, or gotten on the wrong train. Maybe they had ended up at the wrong station. But I thought they would have texted or called me once they had realized their mistake. Surely they would have let me know. They knew how excited and nervous I had been for their arrival. Impossible thoughts ran through my head, but they were turned to dreams as I fell asleep.

The next morning I scrolled through my texts and calls. NOTHING. I groaned this time. I had no idea where they were. I texted them my confusion and anger and disappointment and only hoped that they would get it. When I finally got out of bed, I realized it was Saturday, and I didn’t have to go to work. It was unfortunate for me, with no distractions at home. I told myself I should find distractions.

I went on a walk in the park. I bought ice cream cones for some lovebirds in front of me in the line. I saw two movies in a row at the local cineplex. I watched a Jr. League soccer game and cheered for no one in particular. My day was full of random things that should have distracted me entirely. But it didn’t. My guess was that I was trying so hard to distract myself from it, that it was impossible not to think about it. 

As I sank down on the front steps to my house I sighed. It was another whole day, and yet they still hadn’t texted me. I held my head in my hands and groaned. I thrust my hands through my brown hair and reeled. Suddenly a voice spoke through my thoughts. “Excuse me, miss?” I looked up. A boy with dark hair and light skin looked down at me, the setting sun behind him showing me nothing but his silhouette, making me squint to see him more clearly. He looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he had been debating with himself whether to talk to me or not. “Hello.” I said nervously. He shifted a little. “Can I sit with you?” “Sure.” He sat down on the step next to me, looking like he was as nervous as I was. The awkwardness could have filled the ocean. “So, um. . . .” his voice trailed off as he failed to find the words. Finally he built up courage. “So are you ok?” I looked up at him, and he realized his question might have been too personal. “Well, um, I don’t mean you have to tell me everything, or anything, but, er, do you, um, want to?” His face turned a dark crimson and his eyes were downcast.  I smiled a little. Then I grinned. Soon, I was gasping for breath as my laughter took all the air out of me. At first he was startled. But soon he caught on and was also rocking back and forth with laughter. “Oh gosh!” He managed. “That was pretty funny, no offense.” I finally answered. I didn’t know why, but I felt comfortable around him enough to tell him how hilarious his awkwardness was. Finally we were grinning, but the laughter subsided. “I’m Mitchell. He held out his hand, which I happily took and responded, “I’m Olivia.” He seemed to mouth my name. “So,” Mitchell said. “Do you want to go for ice cream?” I nodded. 

As we walked down the sidewalk, glowing orange with fading sunlight, I knew there would always be something to cheer me up. Maybe something better than the something I was waiting for. Besides, who needs a jumbo box of Milk Duds anyways?

THE END