The world’s finest public transportation is in fact a loyal, punctual and old city tram. The city that held this fine piece of engineering has a name, but that is not relevant for my story. Though I was bred, born and raised in this city it holds no significance to my story. My tale. My life. However, this subway which I religiously enter and exit every day, is why I am telling you all this. Why I am compelled to share my story with someone.
I was an ugly baby. I came on time though. So I was a punctual baby. Wrinkly and gifted with a severe case of chronic resting bitch face from day one, but my parents loved me nonetheless. Some sort of moral, biological, emotional obligation parents have – fuck, I don’t really know, I’m no expert. But they were good parents. Mother was always quiet, as was father. I had never heard them argue, bicker yes, but never a full out lash at each other, ‘You son of a bitch’, throw household decors at each other kind of brawl. They are, - sorry, were peace-loving people. I suppose I am one as well. I don’t talk much, don’t really have much to say. I think a lot though. I cuss a lot in my thoughts, but whatever I’m not a bad person. I pay my taxes, am kind to my friends and family and I smile at old ladies, because they deserve it. With half-assed promises from their kids about meeting them in the weekends and snotty brats demanding new iPhones for Christmas, I strongly believe the world should be kinder to old ladies.
I never grew much. I remained short throughout most of my childhood. My father reassured me every now and then that I was just a late-bloomer, and that those last inches would come eventually. They never came. As of today, I stand a solid five foot sharp. Being the short one in grade school was actually not that bad. I could shed a few teardrops and everything would be settled in the span of a few minutes. People thought I was cute and endearing and they would always treat me gently. High school on the other hand was different. Very different. In this city with an irrelevant name students are placed in different high schools depending on their grades. I did fine, nothing extraordinary besides arts, but I was pretty much like everybody else in mathematics, natural sciences and languages. So it was only natural that I was placed in the biggest school for the averages in our city. This high school had students from all corners of the city, and not all the corners were pleasant.
I managed well though, mind you. Kept an extra pair of everything in my other locker and I got by. Never missed a class and never came late for anything despite being practically hunted by the big guys. In fact, dear reader, I did so well that I decided to take some courses at the local university. Eventually, I got a bachelor and then a master’s degree. I do not think the subject I majored in has any significance to you, so let us carry on with my tale.
Anyhow, I have a job and a solid, fat income. I excel in my post and I have the opportunity to reach even higher. I eat good food and some days I even fancy myself with a vegan meal. I jog around a local lake and I fish every summer. I have no pets, children nor do I engage myself with dating. Not because I do not want to have somebody else in my life, but because I always thought it would be completely useless for one like me. I am now in my late twenties and I have yet to hold hands, kiss or sleep with anyone. My colleagues at work worry about me. They tell me to go out in search for my true love and get some fruits of my own. Naturally, I smile softly and silently tell them to go fuck themselves with something covered in sandpaper. Do not misunderstand me, dear reader. I am content with living in solitude. Loneliness is no longer a pest, but a guest at my home. My penthouse apartment.
You must be adding two and two together by now. I live in a penthouse, have a good, solid income and have open doors ahead of me in my career. I am a very successful person, am I not? Yet, I take the city tram everyday. It has a certain romantic European charm to it, you see. It’s fairly old, but it is well kept. There has yet to be an accident and it gets you from A to B in good time. The tickets are cheap and the tram has integrated so well into the city that nobody can think of this irrelevant city without picturing the tram. But I’ll admit, I have enough cars that would save me the time and the discomfort of being pressed into people every morning and afternoon. So why bother taking the tram everyday?
You see, this is why I am telling you my tale, because quite frankly I have no clue why. The thought pisses me off everyday and yet I get onboard every morning. It’s Wednesday, and strangely there are not as many people on the tram as I would expect for a weekday morning. Not that it is a problem. The tram rustles off and the wheels screeches lightly at the sharp turns. There is a mother with two young boys sitting behind me. The two brothers are bickering about who gets the window seat and the mother is groaning and sighing and huffing loudly. She has given up with the two blond babies. I would have given up too. She carries on with precise knitting with intense sense of purpose for the rest of the ride. I occasionally glance at them during the ride. I notice that the two brothers are in fact twins and the one on the left, who is also the one closest to the window, has stomped his brothers face with his sandal clad feet. I do not glance back at them after that. The mother is murmuring some soothing words to the crying boy and I hear the other one start sobbing as well. Then there is a mumbled apology and then, finally, some silence.
I glance out the window and watch the city pass by. I notice that I am fiddling with my shirt cuffs, tapping my feet and vibrating my right leg. I stop all the actions immediately and take deep breaths. Not until the telltale taste of copper do I realize that I have nibbled my bottom lips raw. I take out a handkerchief and dab at my offended lip. The tram stops and then she comes in.
Initially I had not cared for her at all. She too was a short person and everything she wore seemed too big for her lengthwise. She was clever to resolve to dresses rather than pants like most of the female population in the city. Dresses suited her. She wore dresses that ended a few inches below her knees, and the light fabric she wore would float around her along with her every movement. Mimicking a soft waltz of some sort. She is short, yes, but she moves with grace and paints her lips with a red hue. She fascinates me. Unlike most women here, her skin is ivory. Her hair does not fall in gracious straight tresses of blond and brown, but bounces in delicate springs of ginger. She has freckles too and a dimple on her left cheek. She spares me a short glance and smiles. I smile back. I notice that her eyes are brown.
“Anna! Anna wait a bit!” A voice calls.
The woman turns around.
“Oh, come on!” She giggles as she drags an arm inside the tram.
“Slowpoke.” She says, but pecks the man’s nose.
The man is strikingly tall. Disturbingly tall, and disturbingly handsome. He is a chiseled man with a well-defined nose, strikingly sharp cheekbones and clear green eyes. His hair looks golden and his posture even more so. I realize by the way he has his arm around her waist and the way he rakes her faces with affectionate eyes that they are in an intimate relationship. She giggles some more when he leans down and playfully bites throat. The two twins behind me lets out a loud sound of disapproval and the mother tells them to hush and be nice. Anna and the man remains standing although there are seats available. They have not noticed the seats. They do not care. The wheels moan loudly at a sharp turn, and Anna grabs onto the man’s arms. Anna leans into his touch and rests her head on his chest.
I get off on the next stop. I watch the tram disappear from my view. It is seven fifty-three. My work starts in seven minutes. I have never been late for anything in my life. My birth, my classes, my parents’ funeral, but today I would walk to work. I would walk the four and a half miles off to work and I would be late for the first time in my entire life. I shoved one foot in front of the other and started walking.
