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Every day I took myself and my supplies down to the park and settled down to work. I’d been coming here for almost 2 weeks now, the same bench, in the same park. My little sanctuary. I’d started to see the patterns, the ebbs and flows of the population as they flitted about their lives. I doubted they realised how similar they were to each other, but I saw it. I saw everything.
I peered at my watch. 8.52am. It was nearly time. I sipped my coffee and waited, eyes locked into the crowd, searching for a face in amongst the sea of people. 8.53am. He was never late. I finished my coffee. 8.54am. He wouldn’t be late.
The crowd parted briefly, an ebb revealing a gap in the flow. A familiar head appeared as if from nowhere. I sighed, not realising how tense I was until my muscles relaxed. What was it that made me anticipate this man’s arrival every morning? I watched as the man cut his way through the seething mass of bodies. My eyes followed his path, knowing his destination was a nondescript tree not far from my bench.
8.56am. This man was a stranger to me, yet I felt I knew him intimately somehow. The uneven gait that defined his signature walk, was imprinted in my mind. The way his left leg always dragged behind the right, the slow amble it created. His sharp yet neutral way of dressing, always the 3-piece suit, cut from the finest of cloth. He clearly had money but who wore a suit to the park? As ever, my interest was piqued, his short journey a constant in my life. I liked the dark, square glasses that framed his face, lending his almost bird-like features an air of intelligence. The way his short, dark hair danced in the gentle breeze. He was an enigma, and I felt drawn to him.
8.58am. The well-dressed man reached his tree and took up his usual position, hands pressed against the rough bark, like he would fall without its support. 8.59am. I followed his gaze towards the row of apartments that lined the street across the way. By now I knew what I was looking for, and as my watch ticked over to 9am, a plain front door opened, the same way it did every morning. A red-haired woman emerged from the building and walked quickly to the curb where she hailed a passing cab. Knowing what followed, my attention returned to the quietly watching stranger, half hidden behind his tree. The sadness in his eyes tore at my heart. Experiencing his pain every day should have made me numb to it now, yet somehow, we shared this grief anew every morning. I could only guess as to the extent of the story behind this loss, a million ideas had tumbled around my head, unknowing how close I was to the truth. I would never know for sure.
The morning ritual was coming to an end, and I wiped the fresh tears from my eyes. As I made to turn my attention to my true purpose for being here, my eye caught something new. A tall man with a handsome face was approaching from my left. Dressed in a suit and a long black overcoat, he appeared to be no different to any other passing traveller in the park that morning, yet he strode along with a purpose to his step, and I realised his path was headed directly to my stranger. The bird-like man had not moved from his vigil, his eyes still trained in the direction of the building he came to see every day. When the tall, suited man reached his side, he did not seem surprised, not even flinching.
This new event captivated my gaze, my brain desperately trying to add the new piece to the puzzle. As I stared, the dark-haired newcomer, moved to the side of his friend, placing an arm around his shoulders. Slowly, the shorter man leaned into the taller man’s side, fitting himself carefully into the frame of his stoic support figure. The casual movement was streamlined, like they had repeated it a thousand times before. I watched breathlessly as the tall man brought his free hand up to his tear-stained companion’s face, protectively cupping and caressing his clean-shaven cheek. The care and protection offered, made my heart stutter, and my breath caught as I saw the smile that grew on the bespectacled man’s face. The sad picture from moments before, morphed into one of peaceful bliss, and joy clothed me like a warm blanket.
I still didn’t understand the context, and I doubted I ever would, but to be a witness of this moment of true adoration and tenderness, was more than I could have hoped for. The world carried on as the couple stood, embraced in an aura of love and hope. I would never know this small, well-dressed man, but I was glad of one thing:
If he couldn’t be with her, at least he still had him.