teapot flowers

Part 2

Olivia Walters, the meeting at the metro.

I tried pulling away from the stranger's tight grasp but it was no use struggling. What does he want?

"I don't have any money, let go," I said calmly but sternly. "So what? That makes it okay to take mine?" he asked me just as seriously. "What are you saying? I am going to miss my train! If you don't let go I'll... I'll scream!" I replied, still wrestling to get away and looking at the doors of the train to make sure they had not closed yet. I saw people passing me by, only looking briefly and getting on with their lives.

This is always the way in big cities, so many sit back and watch problems right in front of them, just in their reach, yet they do nothing. It's sickening to see firsthand - this is why I hate big cities.

"Really miss, please just give it back," he said, still speaking Portuguese, but then he mumbled "for man?" in English.

I turned back, surprised to hear the language of my home. I took a good look at the stranger for the first time. Everything about him screamed foreigner - he was a tall, well-shouldered man, about a foot taller than me, with creamy white skin and longish blond hair just touching his shoulders. His dark eyes stared down at me. So handsome, the complete opposite of me. I felt as though I had seen him somewhere but I thought it may be because he looked like a foreigner (after awhile all foreigners look alike).

"Ms. please, don't make a scene, just give it back," he said, going back to Portuguese with his wide hand still around my arm. Just then I heard the doors shutting and my heart skipped a beat. "Wait, you got it wrong," I said quickly in English giving one last attempt to break free.

He seemed to loosen his grip when he heard me speak English, so I continued. "All I have on me is my metro-card and phone!," I said while flipping out my pockets. He looked down at my empty hands, then back to my face. He looked a little lost in thought and seemed disoriented by the realization that I didn't have what he was looking for. As we stood there, I could feel the stares of curious onlookers. I looked down at the hand around my arm, and heat rushed to my face. "Um, could you let go now? I have already missed my train, so I'm not going anywhere soon" I said. "Ah, sorry. My bad..." he replied sheepishly, a bit flustered himself, with a hint of pink crossing his face. "it wasn't my intention to-" that was all he could mumble as he let go of my arm. "I've heard of tons of pickpockets in Rio and I thought.. wait, then where is my wallet?" He frantically searched his pockets.

Finally free, I almost walked away right then. Why should I help him? He has already wasted enough of my time making me miss my train. But as he looked for his wallet I couldn't help remembering the first time I was out and about by myself in the city and how lost I felt. I gave a sigh and relented; I knew I couldn't leave now even if he was a jerk. "Come on, we can go ask the office," I said, taking his arm this time, leading him quickly through the crowd to the front desk. "What?" he said with surprise, trying to keep up with my quick steps. "What color is it?" I asked. "It's white, white with black edging."

I spoke English to get his attention, but now that I had it, I went back to speaking Portuguese, because it was safer if they didn't know you were a foreigner. Normally I can slip through crowds without being noticed but next to this giant, blond, European-looking man, all eyes were on us. I unconsciously moved a bit faster, avoiding eye contact with passers-by; I hated standing out even more than fading in. We finally made it to the front desks and made a report on his wallet, but just as I thought, they were not much help.

On our way back the crowd died down quite a lot, which made it much easier to get back to our platform. "Well, thanks anyway for trying to find my wallet, and sorry about the confusion," he said just as the metro pulled up. "Ahh, Uruguai, this is mine. Well, bye now, thanks again." I waved without saying anything. out of the corner of my eye I spotted a garbage can. I remembered hearing once about how child pick-pockets often discarded the wallet after taking the money. Can't hurt to take a peek... I poked at the garbage, not caring about what others might think.

There it was, a white wallet with black edging. Yes! Grabbing it, I turned and ran to return the wallet, but the doors shut in my face. I banged on the glass window and the foreigner looked up from his book, surprised. I showed the wallet, and his eyes lit up in recognition. He moved forward but then stopped, probably because he knew he couldn't do anything. Just then the train started to move faster and faster until it was gone and I was alone again.

I started to open up the wallet, hoping to find an address or contact info. My fingers nimbly searched for some kind of identification. Credit card, MetroCard, library card, ahhh! An ID card! Just then I heard the train coming. I quickly slapped the wallet shut and hopped on the metro. It had gotten so late, finding an empty seat wasn't hard at all. I leaned my head against one of the metal poles, and before I knew it, I was asleep.

end of part 2.

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