two cups of coffee

I tried to sit as inconspicuously as possible. I knew no one was paying attention to me but it somehow felt like everyone was. Self-awareness flashed in my gaze about the room. Wielding a trench coat from the pouring rain outside and a blue baseball cap, my precautions at concealment seemed to defy the possibility presented by the room itself. But then the clock struck 7pm and a rush of travelers flooded in around the kiosks and empty benches were filled with young couples, families, and old people. The past, present, and future made me feel surrounded and out of place as I sat at a small table with a straightened newspaper in front of me. I couldn't stop chiding myself as to how ridiculous this was. It played over and over in my mind and every instinct I had told me to leave. Ridiculous didn't seem an adequate enough word to describe sitting in a train station for four hours incognito in order to catch a glimpse of a person who I hadn't seen in six years who definitely didn't want to see me.

That I was certain of. The nature of the situation wasn't the most discerning part. I was more worried about getting caught-

"Excuse me,"

I looked up. A super blond guy sat down across from me, lighting a cigarette and ignoring my protests for him to leave the table. 

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He puffed out a cloud of smoke, almost into my face.

"What, you waiting for someone?" His tone was offensive, filled with complete disregard for humanity at large. But majority of his personality seemed to be.

I completely ignored the question.

"Could you go somewhere else? Your stupid hair is blinding me, "I said, trying to see around him. His blond hair was distracting, which at this moment was an infuriating notion. There was a long pause where he inspected his cigarette, rubbing his knuckle, completely uninvested in the moment.

"Oh, I see. You're attracted to me," He said, completely unfazed.

Before I could respond, an official came over to assure Blonde that smoking was not allowed in the station. He argued for a minute then decidedly put out his cigarette. I took this opportunity to shift to the table to my left, facing the large clock far, far, away from me. I felt really small around so many people. It's like the more I tried not to be noticed the more visible I seemed to get.

"Okay, back to the subject-"

"Do I know you?" I asked. Something about his eyes seemed really familiar.

"No, not really," He said, pocketing his cigarettes.

"What do you mean, not really,"

"You dropped this on your way out earlier," He said, tossing me my house keys.

I looked up, astonished.

"Oh my god, are you stalk-"

"No, idiot. We're neighbors. I live across from you, on the second floor"

I took this in for a minute.

"But, you're still not stalking-"

"No, no. Obviously not." I was glad to hear it, but the inflection in his voice irritated me. I had unconsciously lowered the newspaper.

"Are you hiding from someone?" He asked, glimpsing around as if he wanted to wave them down.

"No, not exactly. I just don't want the person I'm going to see to see me,"

"What?" He said, perplexed.

"Look...what are you doing here anyway?" I asked, redirecting the conversation.

He had been leaning forwards but now he eased back in the chair.

"I was saying goodbye to someone," He said simply, lighting a cigarette.

I felt suddenly sympathetic.

"Don't look at me like that," He said.

"Like what?"

"Like you can see my pain. It's unnerving," He was looking away, and I again felt very self-conscious like the world was staring at me. I looked past him at the clock. It was already half-past seven.

All the exhaustion of the day suddenly dawned on me, and I laid my head down on my crinkled newspaper, shutting my eyes for a second.

"Hey, he's here,"

I shot my head up, fully alert, blinking away any traces of fatigue.

"Wha....what time is it?" I said, concerned.

"It half-past eight," He was still sitting at the table next to me. I rubbed my head, trying to take in the present. That's when I realized-

"You're still here?"

He shrugged, sipping coffee out of a styrofoam cup, not looking at me. Before I could process another thought flashed through my mind.

"Wait half-past eight?" I sat up straight, looking around to see the station mostly empty.

My breathing quickened. Before I even knew what I was doing I was leaning my face into my hands, crying. It was a shameful display of weakness. I felt quite disillusioned with myself. I could hear myself and I really wanted it to stop.

I felt him sitting across from me.

"Here,"

I looked up slightly, then sat up straight when I saw he was handing me a pack of tissues. He still wasn't looking at me, as if letting me have the moment alone. I could hear the sympathy in his voice, which was surprising.

"So you were waiting for a guy. Did he stand you up?"

I carefully blotted my eyes. He made it sound like it would be impossible to imagine me with someone. I didn't say anything for a while.

"I missed him. He was here and now he's gone," I said, leaning back, staring at the crumpled tissue in my hands.

"I don't even know why I came. I mean, what am I doing here? I must be a sadist,"

He actually looked surprised.

"Could you take like five seconds and explain whatever madness you live in to an actual human being?" He said, looking very amused. I frowned. I didn't want to explain, but it didn't seem matter anymore.

"I was...I was trying to catch a glimpse of my dad," I said, hating that I was admitting this. The gleam in his eye with a smile that I hadn't seen before quickly shifted to a serious attention. I was hoping he'd interrupt so I wouldn't have to say more. But he was waiting.

"It's really complicated. Anyway I hadn't seen him since my sixteenth birthday. He, didn't want to see me anymore. But I kept tabs on him. I didn't stalk him or anything. I would just check in every year, to see where he was. He just got married. She's already has kids. I knew he was working at this office building and I found out today he's moving to her place. His car broke down recently so I knew he was going to take the bus. But I didn't know what time..." I trailed off, when I noticed the second coffee cup placed across from me. I smiled slightly, feeling embarrassed. I kept waiting to hear or see the judgement in his gaze or in his tone.

"I really don't...I just thought, if I could see him from a distance. I thought if he saw me he might feel the love and feelings of all those years ago. Like they'd come flooding back to us and all the damage would be fixed,"

I drank some coffee, letting my words echo in the silence of the space. Specters floated by in the distance, passengers missing their trains or leaving the station altogether.

"I wanted to see, the person that I remember. Before everything. Before all the pain and bitterness seeped in. When he loved me...I wanted to see that in his eyes. I wanted him to look at me the way he used to. I miss it."

The tears were welling in my eyes again, and the sadness clouded my judgement.

"Do you know what that feels like?"

He looked up, out of a thought, and didn't look away when he replied.

"...Yeah. I know what that feels like." It was then that I noticed the wedding band on his ring finger. He followed my gaze and replied naturally.

"We were married for three years. The divorce was finalized two weeks ago. She's moving to Los Angeles for a journalist assignment, with the kids. They took a train earlier today. I saw them off. But then I couldn't seem to leave once they did," He ran a hand through his hair, his voice suddenly making him look a lot older than he actually was.

I shook my head, frustrated.

"I never knew what I should have done right. He never looked for me, never called. He just left me. He left me. I guess that kinda pain never goes away,"

His out-stretched hand held another gift. Vodka.

"No, maybe it doesn't," He said.

I took a swing from it. The vodka worked immediately.

"Wow, did you finish that?"

"Yes!" I said, stretching the word out in my mouth, standing up.

"Where are you going?"

"Screw this I'm going to find him. I'm getting on the train,"

I stumbled forward, feeling him steady me.

"The last train left already,"

I pushed on his chest to steady myself, and in my peripheral I saw him. He was outside the glass double doors. The lights in the building hid me in the shadows but he was perfectly illuminated, sporting a beard I'd never seen and a trench coat of his own. The rain had stopped, and he was frustratedly yelling at someone on the phone about missing his train.

"Are you okay?"

I couldn't stop trembling. I was hyperventilating. The moment felt so surreal, like I was dreaming. Before I could do anything, he quickly got into a yellow cab and disappeared.

"Claire,"

I leaned to my right and threw up.

"Okay, let's go,"

Even amid my protests he guided me by the arm to the front entrance, then to his car.

"Hey, wait, you don't know where I live," I stated.

He sighed an exasperated sigh.

In the moonlight, his features did appear attractive. Had I really not noticed him all that much before? Or had I been avoiding him for that very reason?

"Open the window. Sometimes the fresh air helps," He said, a cigarette in hand.

I rolled down the window and let my hair down. We hit various stop lights, not saying anything. The silence and the weather were at a standstill, somewhere in the middle. I felt like I was waking up in the middle of a dream. The moon was bright, and as we drove over a large stretch of bridge through a layer of fog, I couldn't help but feel like I was underwater, in the depths of the river Styx. I was traveling out of one world into another.

"What's your name?" I said.

He looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes.

"Chris,"

"I'm sorry. I'll be sure to remember that in the future,"

With the wind in my hair, I looked out and breathed in deep the smell of the water. I could see the waves crash past the fog in the distance. Moonlight shimmered as the sea foam lingering, like the hesitation of outstretched fingers reaching aimlessly for a shore that's too far away. Trying to get back.

I pulled away from the window and leaned back in the car, reclaimed by the darkness.

"Do you think people with pain can be happy again?"

I looked over, surprised and unprepared to answer.

"...Yes, I think so. Don't you?"

He looked over at me for second. I almost blushed.

"I don't know."He said, after a minute, his face serious.

"Life brings pain. Pure inhibition brings pleasure, and sooner or later everybody dies. Maybe happiness is somewhere in between,"

He laughed, surprising me again.

"Or maybe it's not,"

The light-heartedness in his voice made me smile as we finally returned to the road, leaving the sea behind.