I'm Here

4

Traveling by train has become my secret addiction.

After three years of coming to the train station and boarding a car, all the details and actions of my journeys have become muscle memory. It’s a reflex for me to enter the car, even without seeing its destination, and know where it’s going.

Standing, leaning against the automatic doors, always in the same exact spot?

I started doing this after I met Astrid.

I check the time. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. She must be in school now. I close my eyes and imagine her in the classroom, having history class. I see her writing in her notebook, as I think she does. I see her biting the cap of her pen, as I think she does.

I open my eyes and I’m back in the real world.

Astrid is invading my thoughts, taking over every second of my life, and stealing every piece of my attention.

These things don’t make sense to me. I’ve only seen her twice in my life.

I don’t know how the mere memory of Astrid does this. I don’t know why I let it happen.

A gray cloud hangs in front of the sun, hiding its light. The air seems to cool. I sniffle and clear my throat. The weather doesn’t want to be my friend. I didn’t bring a sweater, nor am I wearing a good pair of socks.

The train stops at a station, and I look at the automatic door in front of me. A smile breaks out on my face. I can’t help it.

Astrid jumps into the car without taking her eyes off me. A wide smile is plastered on her face.

I want to hug her, to feel the warmth of her body close to mine. But I don’t move. I can’t; it’s as if she has cast a spell on me. I grip the steel railing beside me, my skin prickling.

Astrid approaches me with shy steps, but her face is anything but shy. Her hair is loose. So free, so wild. A blue flannel shirt covers her torso, and tight black jeans protect her legs.

God, never let me be apart from her again.

She stops twenty centimeters from my body. The smile hasn’t left her face, nor has it left mine. The weather is cooling, but my chest is warming up. I hope she has that same warmth inside her. It’s an indecent thought for me, but I can’t help but repeat it over and over in my head.

Astrid fixes her gaze on mine, and I’m on fire.

— Hi — I say. I wish I had something better than "hi" to say.

— Hi — she replies.

— How are you? — I’m internally berating myself. I have no social skills whatsoever.

— I'm fine — she says, looking away. — I’m fine.

— You look beautiful — I say a little awkwardly. I’m being sincere.

— Thank you — Astrid slightly blushes. Her blue eyes reconnect with mine.

I realize I was waiting for Astrid to appear. I didn’t know it, but I knew the moment I saw her.

I don’t want to be a buzzkill, but it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that she finds me here.

Shouldn’t you be at school now?

— And that is your business, Sam? I go where I want, when I want — she replies, raising an eyebrow.

I feel my face heat up and turn red. I look like an annoying older brother. I want to bury my head somewhere. I glance to the other side, wanting to escape from there. I run my hand through my hair, trying to hide my embarrassment.

Astrid tilts her head to one side, a small smile on her lips.

— Sam, I’m just kidding!

But I’m already hiding my face between my arms. I don’t mind looking overly dramatic. I’m excessive.

Only she sees me, but I don’t want her to see me like this.

She laughs, pulling my arms down. The train jolts, throwing me against her. Astrid collides with the door, and in a few moments, I manage to regain my balance, supporting my hands against the automatic doors. I blink a few times, reorienting myself. Then I see them. Those glacial eyes, now so close to me. I can feel Astrid's breath against my skin. We make no movements. We are both still in that moment.

But the moment has to end. Without any sudden movements, I stand next to her at the automatic door. We are at a safe distance from each other.

With a small push, she adjusts herself. Astrid leans against the railing, facing me.

The sun pops back out, filling the space between me and Astrid with light. We stare at each other silently. But we’re not embarrassed or awkward about the situation. I understand the space between us. It needs to exist. I wonder if I should explain to her, explain who I am, what I am. I wonder if I should let her into my abnormal world.

— What do you think about going to get some pizza? — Astrid asks casually.

I put my hands in my pants pockets and feel a wad of cash.

— Where do you want to go?

(...)

The pizzeria has a nice decor.

It tries to look as much like an Italian establishment as possible, and the sunlight enhances the entrance and the interior.

Even in the middle of the day, the place has some activity. It seems to be quite popular and has a loyal clientele.

But my attention isn’t on the decor or the customers. It’s on Astrid.

A waitress comes over to take our order, and a bit of panic washes over me. The waitress won’t be able to see me. Astrid straightens up and looks at the waitress.

— What do you want? — the waitress asks. Astrid seems unaware that the waitress is speaking solely to her.

— I’ll have a slice of the pepperoni pizza — Astrid says excitedly. She turns to me. — And you, Sam? What do you want?

The waitress looks in my direction, confused. She doesn’t see me; she only sees the empty seat I’m occupying. To her, it’s vacant. The waitress turns back to Astrid with a sour look. If I don’t act, things are going to get weird.

— Tell her that I want the same thing. And an extra plate. Please, don’t ask why! — I say with a pleading look.

Astrid looks at me, puzzled, but nods in agreement.

— Okay... then, bring two slices of pepperoni pizza, and an extra plate.

The waitress takes the order down, looking confused, but doesn’t say anything. Soon after, she leaves.

I turn my gaze back to Astrid, and she looks a bit confused.

Are you afraid of talking to waitresses, Sam?

— Something like that — I reply. Damn, I don’t want to lie to Astrid. But I can’t tell the truth, not now, not like this. I’ll hold onto this lie for now.

Keeping lies is harder than keeping the truth.

The waitress returns after ten minutes, bringing the food. My stomach growls the moment the plates are placed on the table. Astrid smirks at me. I smile back, a bit embarrassed.

— So, Sam. What's your relationship with trains? Are you having a love affair? Every time I see you, you’re on one. But you’re never traveling anywhere.

— I just like to travel by train. No, it’s not a love affair. I can think there, you know? Feel, I don’t know, part of the collective. I reply while chewing a piece of pizza.

— But do you only travel by train? No subway, no bus. Just train? — Astrid is putting a slice of pepperoni that fell on the plate back onto the pizza.

— I only travel by train. Since I was thirteen. Subways, buses... They’re too cramped. I can barely breathe in those places. — The waitress returns with a soda bottle, just one cup.

Astrid looks at me and the soda.

— Miss, could you bring me another cup, please?

The waitress rolls her eyes, coming back to our table with another cup.

After she walks away, Astrid leans in my direction.

— Sam, get over this fear of waitresses already.

I hold the soda bottle and pour the liquid into Astrid’s cup and then into mine.

— I’ll try. I can’t promise anything — I say, taking a sip.

Astrid stretches her legs a bit so that our knees touch. She doesn’t pull away, nor do I. I see a bit of confusion on her face, as if she’s pondering that action. I don’t want her to pull away. I lean over the table, resting my elbows on it.

— Astrid, I don’t think you found me by chance. You’re too dressed up for someone going to school.

I say this because I paid attention to Astrid the second time we met. She said she’d gone straight from school to home and then to the train station. I can deduce that she didn’t change clothes. And her clothes weren’t what someone who cares a lot about how they’re seen at school would wear. To me, on that day, she was beautiful. But today... Wow, just wow.

— You’ve been paying a lot of attention to what I wear, haven’t you, Sam?

I shrug. Astrid didn’t answer my question.

— Well, you’re right. It wasn’t by chance that her gaze connected with mine. I feel the bridge between us. It’s different. It feels like it’s being remodeled; new structures have been added. — I was looking for you.

I blink a few times. I must be dreaming. It can only be that. Astrid looked for me, waited for me, and found me. I feel foolish.

— Why? — It’s the only thing that escapes my lips.

Her lips press together, her eyes shy away. Some strands of hair fall over her eyes, and Astrid quickly brushes them aside. I hope nothing takes me away from this moment. Her gaze connected to mine, my breath fading.

— I wanted to see you — the muscles in her neck tense, she swallows hard.

For her, it's a simple phrase. A simple word. But I feel that for Astrid, the word is complicated too. See. The act that connects people, says more than words, unites feelings. Sometimes used so trivially. I want her to see. To see in my gaze how much I thought of her, how much I wanted to see her.

I want my gaze to say everything I feel.

A shy smile forms on my lips.

— I wanted to see you too.

My hand reaches for hers, and Astrid notices the movement. I hope she pulls away, I hope for hesitation. I take a deep breath and prepare for the stone that’s going to sink me. But I feel it. I feel the touch of her fingers, I feel the warmth. My fingers entwine with hers, and hers with mine.

I am present in this moment, and so is Astrid. I see her, and she sees me.

(...)

The day is coming to an end.

We are on the train back, the sun is setting. The car is empty; that’s rare. Astrid’s head is resting on my shoulder, sleeping peacefully. I know that one day this journey will come to an end, but I pray that it won’t.

The weak sunlight illuminates her hair, as well as her skin. I want to kiss her. I want to seal this moment, but it wouldn’t make sense if she didn’t know that I did it. I see that we are approaching the station where Astrid gets off. I gently shake my shoulder, but she doesn’t wake up. With my free hand, I touch her cheek. I watch Astrid wake up. I feel like I’m invading her privacy, her most vulnerable moment. But I can’t look away. She brushes her nose against my palm, and her eyes meet mine.

An affected smile appears.

I can’t help but laugh.

We remember to exchange phone numbers, and we promise to message each other tonight.

Astrid’s gaze gets lost. She looks at the panel with the train line map. She sighs and lays her head back on my shoulder. I feel that she doesn’t want to end the day. She doesn’t want to go home. I know what happens there. I understand the girl leaning against me. I want to keep her away from that, but I know I can’t do that. Not now, not today. I shake my shoulder, catching Astrid’s attention.

— Hey, what do you think about going out this Saturday?

Astrid turns to me, with that pondering look. Hesitant. Too soon, I was too desperate.

— Do you think you can handle going out with me? — She asks. Astrid smiles challengingly.

If I leaned in just a little, I could kiss Astrid.

— We’ll see — I reply, giving my best carefree smile.

When the train stops at the station, she straightens up next to me. She leans in my direction and gives me a kiss on the cheek. It burns. She gets off the train and turns to me.

— You’ve been paying a lot of attention to what I wear, haven’t you, Sam?

I scratch the back of my neck, laughing.

— I always pay attention to you! — I say just before the automatic doors close.

Looking through the glass, I see her smile. The train starts to move, but Astrid stays in the same spot. My eyes follow her, trying to see her, until Astrid disappears from sight.

When I get home, I’m not hungry. I forget to tell my parents I arrived. I run straight up to my room, racing up the stairs. I sit in my swivel chair and spin. I spin until I feel dizzy. I want to scream, scream with all my might. Dance with my mom, hug my dad. I want to set the whole world on fire.

I take my phone out of my pocket, but I don’t do anything. I stare at it, thinking that if I send a message now, I might seem desperate. We promised to talk tonight, but I don’t know if I want to take the first step. Fear and anxiety settle in my bones. After ten minutes, I decide nothing and throw my phone onto the bed.

The moment it hits the pillow, it vibrates and beeps. I jump like a jaguar leaping at its prey. But I’m clumsy. The phone slips from my fingers as if it’s on fire. It falls to the ground, and I manage to catch it. I unlock the phone. It’s a message from Astrid. A single question:

"Are you missing me yet?"