LOVE PROBABLY

11.

When I open my eyes, I see the station. The car is parked and Gerard is reading a newspaper. I sucked in a trickle of drool that was coming from the right corner of my mouth. It takes me a while to come out of my lethargy. Outside, passers-by are busy. A certain apprehension came over me. I have never really rubbed shoulders with the world. The village is small and all the people know each other more or less, if only by sight. Big cities… I don’t know.

I stretch loudly.

“The siesta was good?” Gerard asks, looking at me over his small glasses.

“Hmmm. Yes. I slept long?”

“More than half an hour, that’s for sure! But since we were early, I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

“How nice. It’s nearly time,” I say, looking at the huge clock on the steeple. “I’ll go.”

“Do you want me to go with you to the platform?” he suggests.

“No, Gerard. It’s not worth it. I’ll try to manage like a grown-up. You have already done a lot for me. Thank you.”

I get out of the vehicle. Him too. He grabbed my small suitcase from his trunk and joined me on the sidewalk.

“Here we are!”

“Yes, I’m here. It’s time for the big adventure.”

“Madeline, enjoy your stay. If you have any problems, call our children. And don’t forget to send us a short message when you’ve arrived, otherwise, you can be sure that Simone is going to curse and I’d really like her not to complain if you know what I mean.”

“Very well. I promise. I’ll keep you informed. Thank you for everything,” I say, holding out my hand to him.

“Come on, let’s hug!” he said, leaning towards me. “It’s not like we’re strangers, huh?”

And there you go. Gerard hugs me like a longtime friend. After listening to his final recommendations, I watch him get back into his car, switch on the ignition and then drive away.

The sky is full. I receive the first drops of a threatening downpour. I ran to take shelter in the hall of the station. I already feel very small. The place looks huge to me. A few people hang around under the departures display panel. To the side, a counter clerk quietly waits for his day’s work to end, earphones dangling from his ear, his head bobbing back and forth to the rhythm of frantic music. He has a job, it’s already great. I almost envy him, I have never had a profession. The question will arise now that mom is no longer of this world.

My train leaves in fifteen minutes, so it’s not yet displayed on the screen. I sit on a bench and wait, lost in thought. I replay the latest events since Mom’s death over and over again. I’ve been through more in three days than in thirty-six years. Well, okay, I’m exaggerating… but understand where I’m coming from. I’m a country girl. When I was a child, my only distraction was chasing farm animals. With the death of my dad and growing up, I isolated myself. Mom was the only person who I could talk with and we spoke little so it was difficult for me to find the words to express myself, or make constructed sentences and organise my thoughts. Minutes feel like hours. I take a look at the message board. Still nothing. Then I hear:

“Hey, miss!”

Where does this hollow voice come from? I look around me but I see no one. “Hey, miss?” repeats the man’s voice.

It’s coming from behind me. I turn around and finally I see him. He’s a traveller. He’s sitting on the ground, leaning against a vending machine. A dog is dozing next to him, its head resting on his thigh. His filthy hand caresses its neck.

“Yes, you! Do you have any small change?”

I turn back around ignoring him and tense up in my seat. I’m not programmed for this kind of thing. I don’t know how to react. He mumbles behind my back, which makes me even more uncomfortable. I have to change places. He could jump on me, slit my throat, or whatever, for a few coins… No thanks! I’m just beginning to live. I don’t want to die now. I’m about to get up when I hear:

“Don’t be afraid! I’m not going to eat you, you know!”

His voice is much softer. Maybe he needed to get out the words stuck in his throat before he could speak more clearly. I know something about that. I clear my throat before answering:

“I’m sorry ... I’m not used to people speaking to me.”

“Who are you saying that to!?” he replies. “Me, no one even looks at me. So good… I think there are worse than you!”

“Probably yes. I have a roof, it’s true. Sorry. Can I offer you my sandwich?”

“It depends! What’s inside?”

"Well, to be honest, I don’t know. It wasn’t me who made it.”

“Yeah. I’m not an adventurer. Don’t you rather have some small change? A note? Or a food coupon, at worst.”

“Yes, but how do I know if you’ll make good use of it?”

“Uh…” he stammered, thinking.

“You see… I can’t trust you.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem speaking your mind!” he said laughing.

If he knew! I stare at him for a moment. He doesn’t look that old. His long, bushy hair deserves a good shampoo. He runs his slender fingers through it and reveals his clear eyes. He would be a rather good looking boy if he took care of himself a little. Too bad he’s so filthy.

“You want my photo? Have you never seen a bum?” he asks.

“Sorry... I never leave my house... I can have strange behaviour. It’s even the first time I’m going to take the train. So… You didn’t answer. If I give you money, how will you use it?”

“I don’t know... I’ll buy a box of food for my dog. It’s been days since she’s had a proper meal.”

“Okay. Right answer!” I say, reaching into my bag to find my small purse.

I pull out a ten-pound note. His eyes begin to shine when he discovers the note that I hand him.

“But that’s too much!” he said, snatching it from my fingers, in case I changed my mind. “Thank you!” he hastens to add. “I promise you that I’ll make good use of it.”

I would like to know more about this boy. Why is he on the street? My eyes get lost on him, sitting on the ground. My brain activates to invent a story for him.

“Tell me, miss! Are you leaving for London?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because your train has just been announced. It’s coming in three minutes, platform A. You’d better hustle!”

“Oh, damn! You’re right. I have to go, but first, let me tell you something,” I said, suddenly solemn. “I don’t know who you are or how you got here. But it’s unlikely that you don’t have a family. Go home and whatever you’ve done, or haven’t done, talk about it! Everything can be back to normal, believe me, but don’t expect the irreparable. My mother just died and I didn’t tell her I loved her. It sounds silly like that…” I added, emotional. “Don’t make the same mistake I did. That’s all.”

His eyes darkened at my words. “I don’t have time, I have to go.” I say, “Goodbye. Good luck!” I put my scarf on my head to protect myself from the rain, grab my suitcase and run towards my destiny, my heart at the same time heavier and lighter.