Inkless Letters

#6. A letter to a stranger.

Hey.

Well, I guess it’s going to be hard to write this without, you know, knowing your name. So I’ll give you a name, if you don’t mind? How about Zaira?

Hi Zaira.

Well you don’t know me. Okay, you kind of do. I mean, we go to the same school, and we’ve seen each other a couple of times. I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you, I’m an awkward kitten.

But, I see you around a lot, and you seem really nice. You’ve got amazing looks and a personality to match. People seem to like your company. A lot. I’ve noticed that all the popular kids are your buddies. Well I mean, you are popular too. You’re always trying to be alone though. Listening to music on your bright green iPod. Sometimes I wonder what you listen to. Pop? Rap? Jazz? I really don’t know.

When you’ve got your headphones on, it’s like you are detached from the world. And you seem happy on ignoring all of us.

So, umm Zaira, I wanted to thank you.

Remember, long back, we had to stay in school for ‘enrichment’ classes? The one where they thought us ‘life skills’? When that oh-so-useful class got over, I headed to the school bus to take me home.

I sat down on the seat next to the door as majority of the behind ones were occupied. You walked in, and you asked if you could sit next to me as I nodded.

You sat down, and started shuffling through your bag. I already knew what you were searching for. Your iPod.

I turned my gaze towards the window, hoping that the bus would move soon because it was stuffy and I wanted the air to circulate. It was a hot day, and I could feel all the gases in the atmosphere turn into plasma.

Then Ashton walked in.

It’s been three years since I’ve been in this school. I guess the bullies have got tired of bullying me. I mean I never respond, so yeah.

But then, there are people like him. I guess bad habits die hard.

I see him and freeze. He had shifted apartments. What was he doing here?

I ignore the icicles in my stomach.

Breathe, I remind myself.

He looks at me and smiles.

Breathe, I beg.

He opens his mouth and I cringe backwards, words turning into bullets mid-air.

“Can anyone still understand your accent? Why did you have to come here you b****? No one wants you here. Run back to Finland and do us all a favor. Should I book your tickets?”

I ignore him. That’s what I’ve learnt so far.

I know it’s a lot better now. I mean school was literally hell at first. It used to be unbearable. Now I have a few friends. Plus I’ve learnt to adapt and ignore. Well kind of ignore.

I turned my head back to the window, not even bothering to reply.

I tell myself that it’s okay. But Zaira, you did the unimaginable. You spoke up.

For me.

You looked at him, straight in the eye and said, “Shut up Ash. Leave her alone, what’s bothering you?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but your glare silenced him.

My throat was tight, and I was chocking with gratitude. You’ve never talked to me Zaira. You’re always hanging out with Ashton. I’ve seen you guys together a million times.

Why did you stand up for a random stranger like me?

I looked at you, hoping to say thank you. But my vocal chords failed me.

You continued shuffling in your bag, and you finally found your iPod. Your head started moving rhythmically as you swayed to your music and I sat there, struggling to enunciate. 

I just wanted to thank you. Sometimes, small acts mean more than the world to someone else. I know you probably don’t even remember this. It’s okay. I know I was just a thread of your life, not the beautiful tapestry that you’re making.

Thank you Zaira. You mean a lot to me. I’m sorry that I’ve never been able to tell you this. But maybe, one day, I’ll walk up to you and speak up too.

Love,

Ilta.