Life Of Dreams

Chapter 9

I fidgeted in my seat.  When I had gotten onto the Metro train, I had forgotten how crowded it could be, even after the rush hour: it was standing room only.  With my crutches and cast, I had thought someone would have offered me their seat.  But that was not to be, as I leaned against the metal pole and braced my body with my one good foot. 

When the train lunged forward leaving the station, I lost my footing, and landed in the lap of a newspaper-reading commuter.  Apologies accepted, the man gently extracted himself out from under me, folded his newspaper and grabbed the piece of the pole I had so ungracefully just vacated.  But at least I now had a seat. 

That was yet another thing that I had not thought through.  I no longer had my car as it was demolished in the accident, and even if I had one, with this cast, I wouldn’t have been able to comfortably drive it.  Not in this city, not at these speeds.  I had called a cab to get me to the Metro station, but I hadn’t realized how many crutch-swing-foot series I had to do to get to the train platform.      

I had spent all of yesterday prepping myself for today.  I had practiced putting on make-up and fixing my hair so that the stitches at my temple wouldn’t show. Agonizing over what to wear, I finally found a pair of flared trousers which allowed me, if I struggled long enough, to pull them over the cast.  Not exactly today’s fashion, but with a cute top, I thought I could pull it off.

Now I sat with the commuters, all in their own private worlds.  I thought back to when I had taken the train into the city for a week of meetings.  I had actually enjoyed the ride.  It gave me so much time to sit back, relax and daydream.  Thinking of Trent had filled that time and had given me that warm, loving feeling I needed. 

I paused in my musings and closed my eyes tightly.  Those meetings were way before my chance meeting with Trent.  How could I have been thinking of him in that way before we had even met?  No, I’m sure I must have just casually been thinking of him, maybe about a movie I had seen him in.  My hands started to sweat, it was getting harder to differentiate my daydreams from the ones before I met Trent to the ones after.  I forced myself to breathe slowly and deeply and to wipe my mind of all thoughts.  It wouldn’t do me much good to meet Trent in a heightened state of hysteria.  

The train finally pulled into the West End station and I struggled to get onto my crutches.  The man whose lap I had so unceremoniously dropped into was helpful in getting me down onto the platform.  I smiled my thanks, gritted my teeth and looked up the street.    It was about three blocks to the old Red Courthouse.  I had decided yesterday that it would be impossible for me to hobble around the city looking for where they were doing the scene reshoot.  My best bet would be to wait at the courthouse for the interview he was going to be giving.

Crutch-swing-foot, crutch-swing-foot.  Although I had gotten used to the crutches, it was one thing hobbling around the house, it’s another thing actually using them to go any distance.  I learned that when I left the cab to go over to the train platform.  My arms were starting to ache, and the tops of the crutches were digging into my arm pits.  Bruises on the back of my hands that I had thought were all but gone, hurt from the strain of grabbing the crutch handles.

There was no breeze, and the heat amplified my misery.  I had worn a long sleeved top to hide the scrapes and the ugly black and blue marks up and down my arms.  I could feel the sweat trickling down my back and pooling at the base of my spine.  But none of this was going to prohibit me from getting to that courthouse.

The dusty red building finally appeared and I stopped before crossing the street.  The autograph session was to start around 2:00.  It was only 11:30 now.  I spotted the café where I had had lunch with Trent and thought I’d eat there first.