This story was an entry to the Sydney Writers’ Room short story competition. It was shortlisted for the prize amongst nineteen other works, but did not win.
All she remembered was the cold, it was that sort of weather that made snot appear and run down your face before you could discreetly wipe it away, until it became a cold, slimy trail on your hand. She pulled the scarf closer towards her face and wished she had a tissue; she rubbed her numb hands together and watched as her breath appeared in a cloud. She could hear her mother singing the theme song to Puff the Magic Dragon with her; she had not thought of her mother’s voice in a while and shook her head trying to get the song to leave. Opening her handbag she sorted through the mundane everyday objects, begging internally for her woollen gloves. Tucking stray hairs behind her ear, she dropped her phone and her wallet on the ground. Rolling her eyes she picked up her phone, and saw her wallet being offered to her.
“Thank you,” she said stuffing it into the large but chaotic handbag.
“It’s okay,” the young man replied. She nodded and turned away, hoping the man wouldn’t see her facial expression. It was not okay. As a train roared towards the station she pulled her handbag tighter towards herself and was pleased that she would soon avoid the freezing temperatures once on the train carriage. To her annoyance it was one of those clunky, old, Sydney trains that, although they were reportedly no longer in service, were always arriving to transport those in the Western Suburbs to their jobs and other activities. To her further dismay, the man who helped her earlier stood behind her as she entered the train. Without a second thought she walked up the stairs, and sat on a three seater, close to the window. Surprising even to her the man sat beside her, so she placed her handbag on the middle seat as if to create a buffer.
***
“You going far?” she asked him after five minutes of internal debate and her furtive glances at his book. She felt bad for how she had reacted to him before at the train station.
“Not really,” he replied. His eyes did not stray from his novel once, and she knew that she had probably misinterpreted his earlier helpfulness as an interaction, and not just straight forward kindness. She put her headphones on, and played her music.
“I quite like the Poldark series,” she said, half staring forward and half looking at him. When he turned to speak to her, he saw the headphones covering her ears and realised she was trying to register her disinterested interest. It was to be their last interaction for that morning.
After some time they arrived at her station. She asked him to move and he shuffled out of his seat. She staggered along the carriage as it shuddered slowly to a stop.
“Bye,” he said, giving her an embarrassed little wave. All she did was glance back, and continue on her day.
***
The next run in happened three days later. She sat at the train station – early due to the uncoordinated nature of a privatised bus system and a public train system. This morning she decided against the beanie, letting her black hair cover he small ears, and as her hair flowed down her neck she used it as a blanket, a sort of mock scarf. She had left her scarf in the hallway after she had rushed all morning to make it to her various forms of public transportation.
“Hello again,” he said. She wasn’t even looking at him and instead was staring intently at her phone. All she did was murmur a response.
“Is everything okay?” he asked. At this she looked up and drank his face in. He had green oval eyes and light blue hair; he would have been a head taller than her and was lanky.
“Fine, all fine,” she said staring back at her phone.
“It doesn’t look like that to me.”
They sat in silence and waited for the train; he walked over to a coffee shop and came back with two donuts.
“I think you need this, you look like you could do with a sugar rush,” he said, passing one paper packet towards her. She looked at his hand and the donut in the paper bag, she looked at his sweet face, and she gingerly took the donut from him, thanking him in the process. She could feel the tears beginning to well, and rubbed her eyes trying to hide it away. If he noticed this he did not seem to react, and she hoped she had not given him more reason to pity her. When they both got on the train he tried to follow her, to sit with her, but all she did was avoid him. She sat herself down on the cold blue leather and moved to the edge of the row, already occupied by another at the window. When he walked past he could only see and nod in confusion. She breathed a sigh of relief and watched the puff of warm air; Puff the Magic Dragon played in her head once more.
***
For all her faults she was never this shy around people. Her childhood memories were full of sweet instances of connections and relationships, friendships and family. Now it was something she had trouble experiencing, it was something she had begun to despise. She could see he was waiting at the train station, for once he had arrived before her. Looking at him she wondered where he went during the day, she wondered if he came to the train station every work day, she wondered if he was a student or doing an internship. He always seemed to have a laptop bag with him, which did not explain much. He wore a necklace, although all she had seen was the chain peeking through the space between his v-neck jumper and his scarf. She wondered if it was a religious symbol, or a gift from a disliked but well visited relative. He always wore a brown coat, one that seemed well worn and well loved. It looked like something he had worn for years, the sleeves meandering well below his wrists. She could see his blue v-neck sleeves cuffing his wrists and joining with his black gloves. Without realising she had been staring at him for a while, he raised his eyebrow and took her stare as an invitation to interact.
“Hey,” he said placing his phone into his laptop bag and zipping it shut.
“Hi,” she replied back. The train came screeching to a halt in front of them and by chance a door opened right in their path. When they entered they took a two seater to themselves.
“Busy day ahead?” she asked, staring at his laptop bag.
“Yeah, I have a few classes this afternoon. Although I had to get in early because I had this stupid assignment due and I don’t have any working internet at home.” He placed the laptop bag on his lap and opened it to show a battered and bruised computer.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, I know. What about you? You’re a bit of a sporadic traveller.”
“I just wander in and out really,” she replied, staring out the window. He wanted to press her further, but knew the conversation was over.
***
The weather had begun to get slightly warmer; gloves were no longer needed for her to get through the day. She had not seen him in a long time, and wondered where he had disappeared. But that day she saw him, sitting on the bench, reading another novel. She tucked her hair behind her ears and forced herself to smile. With one deep breath she sat down next to him.
“Hello?” she said, her voice both breaking and incorporating a rising inflection at the end.
“Hi,” he replied giving her an impish grin.
“Haven’t seen you about,” she replied, returning his impish grin with an equally puckish one.
“Uni holidays, thank god.” It was rather cold, and she slid closer to his side. The warmth radiated from both of them, and they felt they were in their own little world. They chatted, and chatted, and chatted on and on as the train rolled in and the doors opened. They sat on a two seater on the top floor; the leather blue seats were cold against her tights and her thighs began to tremble and shiver. Without saying a word he indicated for her to stand once more and placed his scarf on the bench. When she sat down she felt a calm that only warmth could really bring. Soon they rolled towards her stop and she turned to say their goodbyes.
“Where do you go?” he asked, as she brushed against him attempting to vacate her seat. Her face became grave, and he frowned as he realised that asking her might have been a mistake.
“I’ll show you,” she said, her hand outstretched towards him. He took it.
***
The realisation that they were in a hospice was like waves on a beach, slow at first but sudden and all encompassing. The scents and smells of the antiseptic and the homely but hospital feel evident from the entrance onwards.
“Your mother is still asleep, she’s in her usual room. Don’t forget to sign you and your guest in,” the administrator at the front desk said as they walked towards the book.
“That’s okay, I just want to sit with her,” she said filling in the book and sliding it over to him. She led him down a small corridor, and into a medium sized elevator. She pressed a button and up they went; less than a minute later they had managed to zig zag to the room. A frail woman lay in bed, breathing apparatus attached, puffing up and down, in and out, assisting the woman’s shallow and shuddering breaths. He looked at the cream white walls, and felt an involuntary shiver.
“Mum, I know you’re asleep but I brought a friend today,” she said, stroking the woman’s hair with the palm of her hand. She smiled, but it was a sad smile. He realised it must be difficult to see your mother in this way, unwell and in need of so much to barely live. He wanted to ask what was wrong, he wanted to ask what he could do, but he remained silent knowing that it was not the time. His presence seemed to be enough and maybe she needed him in a way, maybe she needed this still relative stranger to make one of her journeys less frightening, and less lonely.
***
There were no words exchanged when they walked back to the train station, no words when they entered the train carriage and sat down next to each other. He sat by the window, his fun day trip replaced by a crushing truth and a knowing despair. He did not know how to respond.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly, so soft that if it hadn’t been so quiet already he would have just missed it.
“You’re welcome.”
“Can I ask your name?” she said, a small giggle passing her lips. They had talked so much and forgotten to speak that one essential part about them.
“Nathan,” he replied.
“Joanna,” was her response.
The Weird, Wide World of Katherine 