Visible and Invisible

A Stranger's Tale

The little slip of paper stared back at Henry from the space between his seat and the man's next to him. Just now, said man beside Henry caught sight of the paper just as Henry snatched it. Unknown man glanced back behind them, then shot Henry a knowing smile before turning his attention back to his Blackberry.

 'Strange...' was all Henry thought toward the man, then unfolded the note.

"Is this your first year at Maddox?"

Henry could not suppress the  trickle of giddiness in his stomach at reading her words. Somehow, he felt as though he had found a kindred spirit in this girl, Diane. Which was rather ridiculous, seeing as how he just met her two minutes ago while she was crying. Funny thing, that. She didn't seem embarrassed that he had caught her crying; instead, she had seemed open and vulnerable. 

Henry didn't know that girls could be that open. All of the girls he had ever met were closed off- guarded about their feelings, their insecurities. It was just a big puzzle to Henry.

Digging through his backpack, he felt the shape of a pen near the bottom. Letting down the built in lapdesk on the back of the chair in front of him, Henry began to scribble.

"Yes, I've never heard of it before a few weeks ago."

He refolded the paper, then held it through the crevice until he felt Diane take hold of it. Then the paper would reappear moments later with her reply in her curvy handwriting. 

"Neither did I. Who told you about it? Was it a man without a face?"

Henry's eyebrows crashed together. 

"No, he had a face. No name, though."

"Don't you find this all a bit mysterious?"

Henry frowned again. 

"Mysterious? No, maybe not thought through very well. But not mysterious."

When she took longer to reply, he wondered if he had been too forward in his last reply. The note came back.

"You're right. I suppose I get carried away sometimes. I've just been thinking too hard about this school. I'm worrying over nothing."

Relieved that she was not mad at him, he wrote: "I'm glad I'll have a friend when I get there."

As he slipped the note back to her, Henry caught sight of his traveling companion in the seat beside his grinning at him. When Henry met his eyes in question, the man's grin faltered and a hint of sorrow leaked into his eyes. 

"I once had a friend like that."

Although the man's voice was bitter and low, Henry found himself asking, "What happened?" He bit his tongue. Too curious, like always!

But, to his surprise, the man gave him a deep, steady look, then said, "I messed it up. I loved her too late. Now she's happy with someone else." This being said, the man gave Henry a small smile to let the boy know that his curiosity was not unwelcome, then turned away. This time, instead of looking down at his Blackberry, where he seemed to always have emails to reply to or business plans to organize,  he turned his eyes onto a picture of a woman in his wallet.

Feeling like he was intruding on the stranger's privacy, Henry looked away, focusing his attention on his fingers drumming on the lapdesk. Still, from that one glance, Henry had seen the man's adoration toward the woman, who, in the picture, had her arms around another faceless man's neck. A little baby had been cradled in the faceless man's arms.

Henry could somehow feel his neighbor's pain, and was relieved when he saw Diane had written him back.

"I'm glad, too, Henry. I'm glad, too."