She had imagined this conversation somewhat differently; his look should have been more disarming, perhaps – or her words more full of life, or more charming, or cleverer. It wasn’t an unpleasant dialogue, but the magnetic attraction she had prepared her heart to resist was not there. He was simply a friend, and it seemed barely that.
What had she expected, then?
…Static. The kind that prickles down your spine, that you can feel in your knees, that sparks an involuntary smile and a slight tremor in the heart. Instead she had experience the sort of static that comes with a radio station just off frequency, the distracting grey blur of bad wiring in a television set, and the immobile static of a long, uninterrupted, uninteresting wait.
And then silence had fallen upon them like the layer of gelatin glaze on a cake or flan; everything that was to be said had been. It was nice, and now it was concluded. Topped off. Only the consumption of the cake could change it now… or the dropping of it.
She averted her gaze. She had been staring at him as she thought these things, and he looked back at her with a passive curiosity, without saying a word. Wordlessness was a bad sign.
The bus lurched forward and she let her bag down to the floor. She picked it back up. A bag on the floor implied something – a desire to stay still, an exhaustion of strength, apathy, a defeat of some miniscule measure. Slung over one shoulder, the bag returned to its accustomed home. He looked on. No words.
The silence echoed itself and seemed to stretch their shared five minutes into unbearable epochs of time. He shifted from one foot to the other and casually said nothing. All of her thoughts, carefully edited and processed, sounded flat and mechanical to the audience of her mind, and so remained unspoken. The bus stopped again and the people crowded on, pressing them a little closer to each other.
She had been waiting for this moment for nearly four years – to talk with him alone, to have his full attention – but all this time she had thought him so different: chatty, inquisitive, energetic, funny… she thought he would be everything she remembered about him from classes and group gatherings. She thought . . . she had hoped . . . but maybe not.
The bus made three more stops before Riah climbed aboard. She waved enthusiastically from the front, paid her fare and danced her way through the people to meet them. She brought with her an incredible flurry of conversation.
“Ah! Girl, I was hoping to meet you today! Did you get my text yesterday? My phone has been acting up like the three-year-old it is and I can’t believe how many messages it has decided not to send, just to spite me, I swear. I hope yours works better than mine! Wow is the bus ever stuffy today, and not just with people, I mean this air is so… I mean, thick, you know? Like a musty old sauna but without all the cute swimsuits, unfortunately. Seriously, someone ought to crack open a window in here! Oh, that reminds me! Guess what I found stuck under one of my windshield wipers this morning? A parking ticket! The city booted my car! Outside my own building! That’s why I’m on the bus, you see – set off the City Hall. But… sorry, am I interrupting something?” She took a breath, barely pausing long enough to flick her eyes in the general direction of the boy standing near by. She continued with a shrug.
“Well anyway, I paid for that spot right before I went in, just to shower you see, and then I came right back out! Must have caught me just a minute after it expired, but then those parking signs can be so confusing to read, never you mind how long I’ve lived there. I think the traffic people will see it my way. I have a knack for persuasion, you know. Mother always thought I’d make a great actress, but I told her, ‘the Law is for me!’ Pretty similar in the long run, I suppose. Just a different sort of stage,” she winked. “By the way, have you seen the advertisements for the new Shakespeare flick? You really must go with me – I can’t think of a single other person who would care for the right reasons. Say you’ll come?”
Riah’s hand darted into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She read something quickly and began to type a reply. Her lips moved along with her mind as she wrote; it would take a few seconds for her to reorient herself.
“Riah, this is Isaac,” she interjected as soon as the phone snapped shut. “He’s a friend I met at school; Isaac, Riah. I can’t remember just how I met her, but she’s a doll. Not a bad cook either, but if she ever offers you a cookie, pass.” She winked at her friend who threw her hand to her forehead in a playfully dramatic pose.
“Alas,” Riah proclaimed, “My one major flaw and you just won’t let that story die! One time, and it wasn’t even that much garlic. I didn’t realize it was flavoured margarine, you see.” He laughed freely, and the two girls joined in: a moment of pure relief.
Her friendship with Riah worked well; Riah was a wild gypsy of a girl, if gypsies would ever be caught in stiletto heels. She wore feathers in her hair, bright makeup and dark lips; she gave you three doses of caffeine just by proximity; she was a prattling fool, an exotic beauty and an adventurous, head-spinning mystery; she took life in both hands like a microphone and rocked-out. She was awesome.
Isaac seemed simultaneously mesmerized and overwhelmed by the creature that had burst into their quiet encounter. He also seemed to be weighing his options of whether to interact or simply observe their conversation. Riah decided for him. “So, tell me a story, Isaac. What brings you to the bus today? I’ve got to get off in a few minutes though, so you’ll have to keep it brief.” He looked up and to the right for a quick recall. “I’m on my way to meet up with a couple guys from class. Were working on a project all day.” She tipped her head to one side, just a little. “What are you working on?”
It was the same polite blueprint that had begun their conversation ten minutes ago. She was feeding him questions, leading the dance, modeling each step with the graceful nod of her head. He followed each move perfectly: a good dance partner, except that he was on the back-step.
How many nights had she mooned over Isaac Lamb? How many hours tracing his name like a child, day dreaming of a few minutes company? In her secrets she imagined his confession that he too had been watching, that a secret somewhere in his heart there was a place reserved for her. What a fantasy. What a nonsense it all seemed now.
Riah was tugging at her sleeve and saying her goodbyes. “Nice meeting you, Isaac. Good luck with your group thing. And – hey, space cadet – yes, hi. Text me back some time, okay? Talk soon?” And she was off.
“Your friend is …well, kind of intense, isn’t she?” he smiled at her. She searched his face for any sign of a hidden subtext in the words but found none. No codes in his eyes today.
“Yes,” she replied with a wave out to her friend. “She’s a bit of a crazy, but in a good way. I met her at a protest of all places. She was protesting, I was trying to get to work. I don’t know how it happened exactly, but I ended up holding a picket sign for nearly three hours. Ended up being pretty late for work, too. We hit it off so quickly that we’re nearly convinced we must have met before, so it’s a bit of a joke between us that I don’t remember. Truth is, of course, she’d be a difficult person to forget.”
“I believe you,” he said. “She definitely leaves an impression.”
Stop, stop. A woman pushing a stroller squeezed past them and Isaac helped her lift it off like a gentleman. The mall was coming up soon and they would both be getting off. She looked at him and smiled. He smiled back. No words.
She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to confess the past four years of wishing he would strike up a conversation, that he would send her a letter, walk her somewhere, sing her a song on the guitar she knew he could play. She wanted to tell him about the talks she had had with her sisters and friends in which he so often took feature. She wanted to tell him she liked him, but instead she just smiled. “See you later,” he said, pleasantly. “See you,” she said.
Off the bus and walking away, their whole lives seemed to be going in different directions. But …maybe there would be another day for words.
