A New Life Through The Eyes Of Kanto: An Autobiography

It's Not Just You; It's Him, Too

My eyes were glued to someone.

That person stared back at me silently.

The wind suddenly blew hard, causing me to tighten my coat around me, digging my hands into my pockets and squint my watery eyes.

There wasn't much more to be heard aside from leaves being forced along the ground and creaking tree branches.

We both stared at each other while the wind continued to howl.

When it ended quite a while later, there was nothing but silence to be heard.

Neither of us could find a word to say to each other.

At one point, I found myself wanting to say something I just couldn't put into words, unsure of what it was I even desired to say.

The returned silence made me feel that the other was perhaps in the same predicament.

So we just stared at each other, not moving, the wind returning again, blowing a little more gently than before, lasting less time.

"Why are you here?" I asked, tired of the silence, tired of just standing here doing nothing.

Their lips parted, hesitating to speak. "Gary."

"I know my name," I snapped. "What are you doing here?"

Fear appeared in their eyes, along with regret.

Silence.

My patience was wearing thin. I kept my eyes straight ahead on a pair of eyes staring right back, only less harsh.

The eyes that stared back at me were much softer, caring, sad, concerned, fearful.

I couldn't believe who I was staring at. Who knows how long it's been. Why here? Why now? Why at all?

The wind began to blow again, harder, the howl disrupting the silence.

I stood my ground against the sudden, strong gust.

Grabbing the hood of the big, red winter coat and pulling it down further around their head, the individual huddled against the wind, closing their eyes. They remained in that position even after the wind stopped blowing, clearly afraid to look up at me.

I waited for the eyes to open.

They did. Very slowly, very carefully, very cautiously, as if there was some fear that I might be there to strike.

An impatient sigh came from me, and I stomped one foot down. "I don't know why you're here, but I have things to do. If you don't have anything to say, I'm leaving. If you have something to say, get on with it already because I'm not gonna just be waiting here forever. What do you want?"

Although their mouth opened, no sound came out. After a swallow and a gentle clearing of the throat, communication was attempted once more, but no language was spoken.

My eyes glared colder as more time passed by.

The still soft but ever wary eyes closed and a deep breath was taken. Then another. Then another. The eyes opened again and I stared into them, waiting. A slow maneuvering of tongue over lips seemed to be preparation to speak. Another deep breath was taken. Another deep breath then occurred. Another followed behind that one. Dressed for the weather in tall red boots and tight white jeans, we continued to eye each other like cowboys do in Western movies before shooting the other one down. A large black duffel bag was slung over the shoulder.

My teeth grit as my fists tightened with anger. I'd waited long enough. "I have to go." I turned to leave.

"Gary, wait!" the cry reached me, stopping me.