Chairs stand empty in a bar packed full. Evening has fallen. A warm spring night lies ahead. A waitress pushes her way through the crowd outside, picking up glasses, those offered and those left on a brick wall.
Leaning against this wall, he talks with his friends. Nothing particular. Just subjects arising in mind. Women. Careers. Unnoticeably, as usual, he is competing.
When it starts to rain, no one tries to go inside. Knowing it will pass quickly, they shelter beneath an awning. Too many people. The sudden heavy rain drowns out voices and he loses contact with his friends.
He finds himself looking into the face of a young woman he had not seen minutes ago when he was scanning the crowd. She is carrying a baby on her belly, wrapped in cloth that is knotted around her neck. He makes space, but not enough. They stare into each other’s eyes. She looks away. She puts her arms around the cloth, around the baby who is visible through the curves in the cloth.
‘I hate this’ she says, the words bouncing back from the ground and hard to hear. When she lifts her head again he asks if he can help. In the redness of her face, her eyes move quickly and her jaws are tight. The moisture on her forehead does not come from the rain.
‘Just talk to me’, she pleads. He does not know what to say. There is silence.
‘Talk’, she commands.
He thinks of questions, but immediately realizes that she is not looking for a conversation. She needs words only as distractions. She tries to
+ more
Chairs stand empty in a bar packed full. Evening has fallen. A warm spring night lies ahead. A waitress pushes her way through the crowd outside, picking up glasses, those offered and those left on a brick wall.
Leaning against this wall, he talks with his friends. Nothing particular. Just subjects arising in mind. Women. Careers. Unnoticeably, as usual, he is competing.
When it starts to rain, no one tries to go inside. Knowing it will pass quickly, they shelter beneath an awning. Too many people. The sudden heavy rain drowns out voices and he loses contact with his friends.
He finds himself looking into the face of a young woman he had not seen minutes ago when he was scanning the crowd. She is carrying a baby on her belly, wrapped in cloth that is knotted around her neck. He makes space, but not enough. They stare into each other’s eyes. She looks away. She puts her arms around the cloth, around the baby who is visible through the curves in the cloth.
‘I hate this’ she says, the words bouncing back from the ground and hard to hear. When she lifts her head again he asks if he can help. In the redness of her face, her eyes move quickly and her jaws are tight. The moisture on her forehead does not come from the rain.
‘Just talk to me’, she pleads. He does not know what to say. There is silence.
‘Talk’, she commands.
He thinks of questions, but immediately realizes that she is not looking for a conversation. She needs words only as distractions. She tries to focus her eyes, wants to find rest in him. He reads the fear he himself knows so well. Not a particular fear, not a fear for something or caused by anything. ‘Not now. I must take care. Not now’, she repeats.
He makes the space smaller between them. Without thinking he puts his arms around her and the baby. Carefully. Trying not to create a misunderstanding. ‘You are bigger than the fear you feel right now’, he whispers. And he also thinks: whatever happens, I’m here to take care of you and the baby. He doesn’t speak this thought, knowing that it would sound pathetic. Worse, the intimacy would spark this energy she is fighting with so intensely.
She makes small kicking movements with her legs. She is losing ground. He feels shaky too. He holds her loosely, but firmly. His grip is telling her that he is here for her. And also that she is strong enough to cope with what is happening.
He looks to the sky and sees a bird flying through the rain. The bird is already grounded. He looks back at her. She is crying. Her body is shaking. There is no resistance anymore. She is becoming grounded. Soon, the fear will leave her. He feels tears welling up in his own eyes.
And in the back of his mind an uninvited voice hopes that his friends have not been paying too much attention to him over the last few minutes.
- less
object
event
