No One

“I am no one, I am nothing. I have never been anything and will never mount to anything. I am but a shadow.” 

The disheveled, young woman paused and looked up at the stars as if searching for answers. She shivered lightly against the cool Pasadena evening air. The bus stop allowed for shelter from rain but her threadbare sweater was insufficient protection against the wind. And this evening was particularly windy! She looked sideways at the elderly woman sitting next to her who encouraged her to continue. 

In a steady, monotone voice, the young woman continued:

“The stage for my life was established twenty years ago when I was discarded in a trash can. Whoever the breeders were they were never identified so I don’t have a last name or a past. As I said, I am no one. Being no one makes it hard to establish relationships. You don’t belong anywhere. How can you relate to someone when they can’t see you? After all, how can someone else see you if you can’t see yourself?”

The older lady nodded sadly and stifled a sob forming in her throat. She clutched her oversize purse to her heart in an attempt to shield it and soothe herself.

“I have been struggling to survive in the margins of society ever since I escaped foster care at the age of twelve. But living in the shadows does not mean I am someone, it just means I am a shadow.

 Ma’am, I don’t wish to be rude since you seem nice and all but you claim to see me? To hear me? Why? Why are you even talking to me? Your bus will arrive any minute now and then you’ll be gone forever. I am no one to you.”

The elderly woman looked past the matted hair, the skeletal frame, the mismatched clothes, and the overstuffed bag with junk the young woman had collected through the years and considered to be her prized possessions. No. That is not who she saw… instead, she saw someone else… a healthy young woman with fire in her eyes. Someone who was strong and brave, and who was Someone. Someone who had forged a past and a present by sheer will. Who had the strength and stamina for a future where she could belong to a community. Someone who could ultimately be seen by others. But how, the elderly lady wondered, could she convey that vision? 

Tentatively and softly the older woman began,” I told you that I see you and I hear you. In fact, I have been seeing you ever since you started coming to this bus stop a month ago. What I see is someone who has suffered and survived. I see someone who is articulate but fearful of the doors her words might open. I see someone who is angry at the world but also longing to belong. I truly see you.”

The young woman sneered as she stared straight ahead. 

“I am sure your experiences have taught you that anyone who approaches you with a kind word or gesture is actually looking for something in return, something that is unpleasant and against your own best interests. Of course you have had to be leery of others. Yes, I understand that. ” 

Unexpectedly, the young woman’s eyes started to well up, and her underlip began to tremble. She became annoyed at herself and blamed her reaction to being cold and hungry. She quickly looked down while hardening all the muscles in her body. Her facial expression became as stony as a sphinx. She was locking the world out.

The younger woman’s sudden transformation did not deter the older lady and instead she continued, “I don’t know you, true. I just met you, true. I know you are suspicious. But somehow your spirit is talking to mine and I believe you are feeling it too. I am not sure why.” 

She paused to gauge the younger woman’s reaction and noticed her fingers loosening up. With kindness in her voice flowing like a strong river, the older woman stated:

“The way I see it, you have two options before my bus gets here in a few minutes. One, is to continue to live in the shadows or two, to take a risk and let me put you up in a motel for a few nights so you and I can continue to know each other. I am not going to take advantage of you as there’s nothing you have that I need. I am an old woman who has lived a very long life. While I have a lot of friends I do not have any family left. My friends are my family and we know how to look and care after each other. I am sitting at a bus stop so you know I am not rich because I don’t have a chauffeur." The older lady noticed a barely perceptible smile swiftly cross the young woman’s face.

She continued: “I don’t have much to offer other than to see you…if you allow me to. And, to put you up in a motel for a few nights." The older lady smiled.

At this offer, the young woman trembled. As she searched inside herself, she stumbled across a novel feeling, one that she was struggling to comprehend or identify. It felt odd and warm but also quite alarming. It was incomprehensible how the cool evening breeze had turned stifling or how her breathing had turned shallow as her hands began to perspire.

The elderly woman noticed and placed her parched hand over the young woman’s as a means of protection and encouragement. The young woman winced and abruptly coiled her hand back as if she had been burned. She then looked at the older lady, really looked at her. She saw someone who had deep bags under her eyes from crying herself to bed. Deep wrinkles on her forehead from years of excessive worrying. Burn scars on her arms and legs… obviously someone who had a story to tell and a sad one at that.

As the older lady’s bus approached, the younger woman slowly picked up one hand. After a few long seconds of indecision, she placed it over the older lady’s hand. No words were needed. Their spirits were indeed talking and seeing one another.  

As they were climbing into the bus the young woman looked at the older lady and said, “My name is Mabel, Mabel Johnson.” For the first time she believed she was being seen and could become Someone.