A Heart Divided

In a Matter of Speaking

My bike wouldn't work. I mean the pedals span and the brakes were ship-shape, but my bike just would not move. The wheels were failing at their one job. So I was stuck, outside a furniture shop in London, with no way to get home, with winter's light drizzle coming to rain right down on my parade. Great.

"Son of a bitch!" I said to the world. Though there was no one around. Probably because everyone else's bikes work. 

Tucked under my arm was a vintage lamp that I had purchased just thirty minutes ago. I was going to browse more but closing time was approaching and the beedy-eyed shop keeper was giving me daggers so -after asking for the lamp to be wrapped twice just in case it fell out of the basket of my bike and would escape with minimal damage- I quickly made my escape. Only to find the immovable wheels of my bike. 

My only option was to leave the bike where it was. There was no way I was lugging it onto the tube along with my new antique lamp. I consider myself gullible, not stupid. I shrugged the fur-lined hood of my coat over my brown curls and proceeded to walk the slippery pavements of twilight London. 

I kept my head down and hugged the lamp to myself. It was awkward and bulky to carry but envisioning the cosy light it would provide in my small flat was enough to keep me going. Ahead of me I could see the descending staircase leading to the train station entrance.

Once on the train I could breathe a sigh of relief. I guess I looked pretty odd. Sprinkled drops of rain throughout my hair, frizzing it and making me looked crazed. Not to mention my crazed self was clutching a lamp like her life depended on it. This was cause for another sigh. Of the what-am-I-doing kind. 

I sent out a silent-curse for myself for not bringing headphones. Looking back, I noticed that I just tucked my phone and some bills into the back pocket of my jeans and then left. Silly, unprepared me. I closed my eyes, bit the inside of my lip, and then opened them again.

Huh. So there's a guy staring at me. Though he's trying not to be obvious. But there was a clear two seconds difference between when he was looking at me and when he wasn't. He sat in the parallel seat across from me and the lights of the train tunnels flew behind his head like speeding fireflies. I narrowed my eyes. Slyly I diverted my gaze to stare at something random on the train, some lights or something. I was baiting him, daring him to look back. He did.

And I caught his eyes with mine and locked them there. Caught you. 

His lips parted and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. However, he had to indulge me first. 

"Can I help you?" I said bitingly. He looked taken aback, mouth hung open and eyes narrowed. He looked like he was trying to figure out something complicated.

"I'm so sorry, so so sorry," Oh goodness, the poor guy was as awkward as I was, "I was just trying to see what you were holding. It's been bothering me since you got on." Ah, so that's what he was trying to figure out. Hmph.

"Oh." I kind of didn't know what to say to that, "it's a lamp. I bought a lamp today." I wondered if my tone was too blunt. Well he started it. He stared at me.

The guy seemed to smile to himself, "You were clutching it like it's a lifeline."

I grew defensive then cooled off. He was trying to have fun. In a hopefully subtle once-over, I took him in fully.

Tall, even from sitting down. His hair was styled to hang over his forehead in a long fringe which I found common in the British guys I had seen lately and in the light it was the colour of dead Autumn leaves. His shirt was black with white stars aligned below the collar, matched with black skinny jeans. He was looking at me expectantly and I realised my once-over wasn't as quick as I hoped. He probably thought I was sizing him up, like a piece of meat. Which I guess, I was.