Waiting

Hello Rain

        Before I got on the Metra every morning to leave for work, a woman covered in old blankets smiles and greeted me.  No matter how early I woke up, or how late I got back, the wide eyed lady was always there. At first I was afraid. Growing up in a prestigious family, I was always told to never make eye contact nor ever speak a word to a person who even looked to be without a home. And that’s exactly what I did. When the woman would go around on her morning routines at the station, I’d keep my eyes steady—above her head. I would never acknowledge her yet every day she’d always make the time to say hello.  However, my perception of the old lady altered the morning I fell out of my routine. I had stayed up late working in the office the night before—later than the usual late that I’d work myself to. It was inevitable that the following morning, I’d be half awake which would then lead to me missing the train. It would be another two hours before the next train came so I made myself comfortable on a bench. When the woman came close I couldn’t look above her anymore. Her small figure came into a full view and I couldn’t help but look up.

        You know… whenever I passed by people living on the streets, I never once looked at their faces. When I was younger, an adult would always be there to cover my eyes and push me forward so as not to stay within their presence for too long. As I grew older, the instinct kicked in, and I pretended there was someone pushing me forward with their hands covering my sight. The figure that stood in front of me though was not at all scary or as disgusting as everyone I grew up with made it out to be. She looked like any lady—in fact, not as old as I thought she was at all. She looked to be around her late twenties or her low thirties. However, from afar, her restless eyes and deep, dark circles made her seem far older than she actually was.

        “Good morning! It’s a beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

         I stumbled with the right words to choose. “Y-yes. It’s pretty beautiful.”

        The woman’s eyes widened a little wider than it already was and she smiled childishly. “You can hear me?”

        “Oh. Yes- I mean. No- I mean yeah, I could. But all those other times I-“

        She held up her hand and shook her head. “No. It’s okay. I’m used to it. But thank you for the gesture back this morning.”

        I nodded my head and stared at the tracks. She started to turn away but stopped. My palms became sweaty as she slowly sat down on the other side of the bench. I used my peripheral vision to glance at her. Her dark brown hair messily clung to her small face as her dark eyes seemed to shine brighter than any other I’d encountered. From first glance, I had only noticed her worn clothes and old backpack, and had assumed that she was just another homeless person that wasn’t smart enough to make a living. That’s what I was always thought to think of people like her anyways. 

        “So… Aren’t you usually in the early rounds of people?”

        “Y-yes. I am. But I was late this morning.”

        “Oh. I see. Well, I guess you’re stuck with me before the next train comes. Sorry about that man.”

        "No, it’s fine- I mean… I won’t be stuck because I-I-“

        She raised one eyebrow and laughed. “I was just joking. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

        I scratched the back of my head and looked down—unsure of what to say.

        A small hand came into my front view. “My name’s Rain.”

        I hesitatingly took it and gently shook it. “Scott.”

        “Hi Scott.”

        “Hello.”