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“It’s going to be a pretty tough winter, hu ,” she breathed through a veil of fog. The woman closed her book, took a sip of earl grey – still nice and warm thanks to her faithful thermos – and took the few steps she needed to do to get into the tram.
She was lucky, it was almost empty but she knew better. It would have been hell only 2 stations earlier and it’d be crowded again as soon as they reach the railway station. Geneva wasn’t different from any major city. No matter the hour, the public transportation would be busy with all kinds of people ; children, elderly, women, men, folks in between, suits, band t-shirts. But the sweetest thing wasn’t looking, it was letting your ears hang around. Perhaps she would catch the melody of a violinist who got into the tram to get a franc for an air. Sometimes, a person right before her would start humming a song she knew about and she would delight in their smile. Over times, she would listen to the flow of a foreign language spoken near her, enjoying the ups and downs, the different tonalities and the luxurious, wide, magnificent varieties that humanity offers.
She sat on the first free chair and opened her book again. It was about a young adult girl who got the power to cross mirrors and read the past in objects by a French author she took a liking when she was a preteen.
One, two, three stations and then, she heard a whimper. At first, she took a discreet glance around her to check everything was okay, and then, she heard a swallowed – but loud – sob. The woman closed her books and turned fully to look at a little one sitting two rows behind her. Alone. And looking very terrified.
The child closed their eyes and tried to take a deep breath, but a new sob got past their lips before they could inhale appropriately.
“Salut toi,” the women spoke very softly, afraid to startle them. “Tout va bien ?” The child opened their eyes to look at her, and she saw the guilt in them. The shame. But there was a look she knew too, subtle in their fear ; a lack of understanding.
The official language of Geneva is French, but the city is so multilingual, it wasn’t a surprise for her. She was speaking at least 2 or 3 languages a day. That was one of the marvelous things, growing up in Switzerland ; a 4 languages country. And without counting English !
“Deutsch vielleicht?”
The kid was looking at her, lips tight, but they shook their heads a little. Not getting the question, but knowing one was asked. The women got up and sat next to the young one. Closer than before, but not too close. She wanted them to feel safe.
Their bag was slightly open on the floor and she saw a book with a big french flag titled in English. Of course .
With a smile she wanted as kind as possible, she sunk her green eyes deep into the child’s one. “I’m Chris. What’s your name ?”
Instantly, there was relief. The little one let some fresh tears fall, but they were smiling, at last. “My mom always tells me not to give my name to strangers.”
“And she’s right,” said Chris with a little giggle. “Can I help you with something little stranger ?”
“I think I’m…” they breathed deeply, shaking again. Their chestnut eyes were now on the floor.
“Hey, everything will be fine,” she said, reassuring. “You’re alone right ?” They nod their head a little. “Okay. Are you lost ?” The little one kept their lips sealed again but their shaking was becoming less and less. Chris forced herself to take a sip of her tea, giving them the opportunity to interact if they wanted to. After quite some time, the silence grew comfortable and she saw that they were studying her out of the corner of their eyes.
She was an adult in her thirties, blond, a little chubby, with light eyes and a little spark in them. Her book and thermos in her hands, close to her as if they were precious items for her ( and oh, they were ). Her cheeks were probably a bit flushed thanks to the cold wind of the Swiss autumn. She was wearing a beige coat and a tartan scarf her best friend gifted her years earlier.
She had a flash suddenly. Something from the past.
She saw a Tube logo. Heard the echo of hundreds of people walking past her. She felt a deep fear suddenly, squeezing her heart. And then… Short blond curl. A tartan bow tie. A weird and funny accent. And relief. Safety .
“It’s scary to be lost in a city you don’t know the language, right ?” The child searched her eyes suddenly and she smiled tenderly to them. “I got lost in London once, when I was your age I guess. And at the time, I only knew a few words of English.”
“I’m from London !” said the child cheerfully at first. But their eyes dropped to the floor a few seconds after, again. “Or, well. I was. I should say I’m from here now right ? We had to move out because of my mother’s work.”
Chris pointed the book in their bag with a finger. “That’s why you’re learning French then ?”
The child nodded. “It’s so hard. But I want to get better at it !” They pointed back at the book in her lap. “My teacher says that I will read French books in a few months without any problem, because I like reading and all, but…”
“But it’s hard to learn a new language, I get it. I had to learn English the hard way, like you. And see, today I can speak with you freely. I’m sure you can do it.” She closed her fist and gave them a soft hit in the thigh.
“A-Avery…” Chris looked at them, head tilted and they continued, a little blush creeping on their cheeks. “I’m Avery. It-it’s my name.”
Chris nodded, and gave them a bright smile. “Nice to meet you Avery.” She took a sip of her tea, as innocent as possible, before looking back at them, a little playfulness in her eyes. “So. What are you doing, alone and upset, in a tram in the middle of the afternoon ?”
The child startled, and flew her eyes again, looking up this time with a little pout on their lips. “I-I got… lost.”
They talked about where they needed to go and Chris got off the tram with them to take it the opposite way when they realized they both had missed their stop. She counted the stops Avery needed to do before getting out and finally, finding their way to their home. Her stop was the first one and when she got up again, Avery followed her to the tram’s door.
Their smile was bright and she had another flash suddenly.
She saw herself in a crowded street. So little she had to crank her neck to look at the second man who was trying really hard to avoid her gaze behind his shades, while the other man was reprimanding him. Let me be kind , he was saying. And then, the blue eyes were on her again and a smile so gentle her stomach fluttered. “Je sais que tu peux y arriver. Et quand tu seras prête, lis ce livre. C’est une histoire magnifique et je suis sûre qu’elle sera une récompense parfaite pour tes efforts.” She took the book he was holding to her, a blond boy on it, and smiled back. “And be fu— proud about it,” said the red haired man in perfect French, rubbing his sore shoulder.
Be kind .
Chris took a look at her book and held it to Avery with the same smile he gave her that day. The same words. “I know you can do it. And when you’re ready, read that book. It’s a great story and I’m pretty sure it’ll be a perfect reward for your effort.”
***
“Did I ever tell you about the day I got lost in Soho ? When I was living at my aunt’s in Haringey,” Chris asked, apprehensively. Her left hand was trying to keep the phone on her hear while her right hand was distracting her orange cat from it.
“I think you mentioned it the last time we were in London, yeah,” said her girlfriend at the other end of the line. “It was what… 20 years back ?”
“Something like this. I was so young…” she muttered. “I thought no one would let a 9 year old cross half a city by themselves anymore. But I guess I’m wrong.”
“Hmm?”
Chris told her about her encounter while stroking her cat twitching ear. Recounting her day made her think back of the two men she met that day and she couldn’t help herself. She disentangled from the pile of blankets and dropped the cat out of her lap before getting up. The woman got to the kitchen to refill her glass and stood in front of her bookcases, thoughtful.
“I’m happy they found you on their way. The child got lucky,” purred the distant voice. Chris swore she could hear the smile in it. Or perhaps they've been together long enough that she knew she was smiling. “And ‘Winter’s promise’ will be a great reward, indeed. But you never told me about the 2 men that helped you that day. Only that you were scared as fuck.”
“My memories are a bit messy, to be honest. But today brought back some things,” she said, very slowly, half of her mind checking each bookshelves one by one. “I remember being in the Tube. Hating the skirt of my brand new uniform. Getting out of the station at Picadilly Circus and taking the exit my cousin told me. But it was the wrong one, and I was deep into Soho before realizing it couldn’t be the right path. I tried to go back, but people saw I was distressed I guess. They started talking to me in English, really quickly and… I-I flew, ashamed. And then, I bumped into a man and fell in a puddle.”
“British weather in a nutshell,” she laughs.
“Don’t miss that, trust me. Well.” Chris paused, frowning in front of the next bookcase. “He held out a hand to me and saw I was a mess I guess. Probably my first panic attack, ever. He talked to me in English at first but it was so gentle, so soft . I felt safe suddenly, like nothing could happen to me. That feeling when you know everything will be alright, you know ?”
The distant voice hummed.
“And then he spoke French ! If you can call that French,” she giggled.
“Why?” asked her girlfriend in a warm voice.
“His accent was horrible. Truly. But his friend was speaking it like a native, and the first one was fluent despite the accent so it was okay.”
Chris heard a heavy breath at the other end of the line. “The child from today was pretty lucky, but you too dearest. It could have gone very wrong.”
“Yeah, I know… But the nice one offered to drop me at my meeting point, said they wanted to go to the park and it was on the way. I remember his friend seemed not very happy about it but he followed behind us. We talked about books, dunno why or how. And- AH! Found it!”
“Everything alright?” the line asked, hitch in her voice.
“Yeah, sorry. ” Chris took a slim book in hand and opened it, before taking a deep breath in it. “When we finally found my auntie under the Swiss Clock, he gave me a pep talk and a book. The one I just found. I wasn’t sure I still had it.”
“Wait, so he was the one to give you a book first ? Like this ? Out of the blue ?” blurted the distant voice with a twitch of amusement. “I like him. A lot. What was it?”
“The little prince, from Saint-Exupéry. An English version of course. He was lucky, I had never read the original in French, and so it worked. I put it on display on my desk and I saw it everyday for months. With time and effort, my English got better and I could read it. It was a great story… And- Oh, mon ange , you can’t imagine how proud I was!” Chris said, her voice a bit pinched but warm nonetheless.
“Helping out a kid, making them feel safe, giving them books… If guardian angel existed, he would deserve the title. Not me!” the voice laughed. “And it took 20 years, but he should be proud. Probably started a line of good actions.”
Her fingers flied at the end and fluttered the pages to find the little cursive words she was searching for.
Chris took a huge sip of her glass to get herself in check, but her girlfriend knew better. “What are you drinking ?”
Her thumb ran on the paper, softly, and her sighting became blurry suddenly.
“Wine,” Chris admitted.
“Red ?”
Here, on the last page, inked in blue, beautifully calligraphed ;
DON’T WORRY, IT’LL BE OKAY.
YOU ARE STRONG, CONFIDENT, HAPPY, BRAVE, AND IT’S GOING TO BE FINE.
TRUST YOURSELF AND IT’S GOING TO BE OKAY.
PS: KEEP READING TOO.
“Red.”
The memories she felt were pervading, taking roots in her heart and spreading warmness from head to toes.
“Good, you deserve it,” purred the distant voice.
Her glass was empty in no time. She set it down with the book and saw her scarf that had been carelessly dropped on a chair a few hours earlier. Chris put it on with care and took a deep breath. A sweet scent of bergamot still came out of it, even though it had been years since an earl grey was spilled on it. That scarf was one of her most cherished possessions because she felt loved when she had it around her neck. But she also felt especially strong. She ran a finger over the soft tartan-print fabric and realized that, maybe, she didn’t feel like this only because this scarf had been sewn by her best friend. “Do you… D-do you think it helps ? Being kind… Starting chains of good action and such small good deeds I mean.”
Chris closed her eyes and saw the man again. Bright smile, tartan bow tie and blond curl, waving at her when she turned to say goodbye. With hindsight, she knew a lot of weird things happened that day. How could he have known she spoke French ? Her skirt was dry when she got up but she knew it shouldn’t. And how did he write the little message in the book ? She was pretty sure he didn’t do it in front of her and when would he have had time ? Well. Her memories were probably tricking her.
“Of course,” replied her girlfriend, way too excitedly. “I’m convinced that a decisive encounter can completely change the trajectory of a life, even if it’s only for a few minutes. Our world is shit but what matters is what you do with it dearest. And you nailed it.”
The moment seemed to hang still for a moment, then a soft chuckle broke free from Chris’ lips. “I hope he’s good,” she whispered slowly, weighing every word, and turning her eyes to the clear night sky.
***
Soho, present day.
Crowley downed his glass in a hurry and reached out for the bottle in Aziraphale’s hand a second before he sneezed. Again .
“You sure you’re not catching something angel ?”
“Don’t be foolish,” replied Aziraphale. “My corporation never failed me and it won’t start today.”
Crowley topped his glass and swirled the ruby liquid before his eyes, grinning. “Well, someone is talking about you a lot then.”
Aziraphale raised a brow and Crowley saw his marvelous blue eyes getting far away. “Stop that thought. I’m sure it’s in a good way.”
“Oh ,” said Aziraphale, beaming at him. A bright smile graced his lips. “Do you really think so ? ”