Stranger

I sat in a café, blindly starring down at a book with words that had blurred and a title that had been long forgotten. A cup of cold coffee was clenched between my hands, hovering in front of my lips. A slight breeze was rolling through the open windows of the café every few minutes, ruffling my hair and blowing me past the pages I’d originally started on; it would definitely appear to someone who’d been watching me as if I’d actually read almost half the book by now. In actuality, I’d been sitting here for more than half the day, drifting from being submerged in deep thought to mindlessly starring out at the park that I could see resting across the street.

I’d been delivered some bad news by a distant sister of mine just two days ago: the boy whom I use to date when I lived back home had been in an accident a few weeks ago and had died. At first I wondered why she had even bothered to call me about something like that, especially when it concerned him. But then my emotions took control and I found myself doubled over on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably as I muttered my ex-lovers name.

He and I had dated for almost three years, having developed the type of relationship that one usually only gets once in a lifetime. Things soured, though, when we realized we wanted different things in life and we soon broke things off. It was rocky, after that. I wished I could say that we remained close friends and kept in touch when I moved to England, but I would be lying. We’d gotten into a screaming match just days before I moved out here and the last thing I’d ever said to him was how much I hated him now. I’d always wanted to call him up and explain how much that sentence was said out of anger, but I’d never been brave enough. Now it was too late.

A quiet sob shook my body and I quickly sat the cup down, covering my mouth with one of my hands as I tightly shut my eyes. I didn’t want to make a scene in the café, as the people who were in here already thought that I was a complete lunatic. I tried to steady the flood of emotions the recall on the past few days had suddenly provided me with and managed to swallow down the hard lump that had formed in the back of my throat. I sniffled a little and dabbed at my eyes, thankful I hadn’t been able to muster up enough concern about my appearance this morning to put on mascara or eyeliner.

“Here.” The sound of quiet, deep male voice caused me to jump a little and jerk my head to left. A man with a pretty pair of eyes and luscious looking lips was leaned over from his table, outstretching a nicely carved arm with a white handkerchief dangling at the end.

I smiled a little and took the soft thing from him, using it to further dry up the tears that had managed to escape my restricted hold.

“Bad day,” he questioned softly as he joined me at my table. He took a seat in front of me and accepted the barely used tissue with a sorrowful look.

“Horribly bad,” I choked out. I closed the book I’d stopped reading long ago and set it aside, raising my teacup back up to my lips but frowning when I remembered the liquid had grown cold.

“Why don’t I get you a fresh cup?” When I hesitated, he continued, ”Please, it’s not a problem.”

I relented and told him my order before he called it out to the barista working behind the counter. He ordered a cup of tea for himself too and then turned those silver colored eyes back onto me.

“I’m Max,” he softly smiled.

“Claire,” I muttered.

He nodded again and craned his neck over so to be able to catch a look at my book. His eyebrows rose after he’d read the title and he flashed me a look once he was done.

“Suzanne Collins, eh?”

I smiled, even laughing a little at the expression he now wore, and said, “Yea, couldn’t resist all the hype.”

He laughed as well as the barista brought over orders and sat them down in front of us. I took a sip of my hot coffee and raised it up as a thank you, to which he just waved off. After that, we sat across from each other for several minutes, just drinking our warm beverages and starring at different things. Soon, though, my thoughts traveled away from the handsome stranger who was sitting in front of me and back to the person who I’d declared that I hated before he’d died.

I started confessing before I even realized the things I was saying may not be appropriate to tell someone I’d never even seen until now.

“My ex-boyfriend died a few weeks ago,” I muttered, looking over at Max with tears building in my eyes. He looked up from swirling around his cup of tea and I watched as his features were draped in sadness and apology. Before he could mutter the words, though, I continued. “The last thing I said to him was how much I hated him now and he died before I could tell him how big of a lie that is.”

I covered my mouth once again as I started to cry harder and didn’t bother to restrict myself with hazardous thoughts about the stranger when I felt him wrap an arm around my shoulder. He’d moved a chair beside mine and was now sort of cradling me in one arm while allowing me to rest my head on his shoulder and drench the right portion of his shirt.

I spent a few minutes like that, crying on the shoulder of someone I’d never met before while images of Patrick’s mangled, dead body ran through my mind. When I’d seemed to empty myself of all the tears I had left, he seemed to squeeze me tighter. I didn’t know why and I didn’t ask; I simply reveled in the consoling touch of another human being.

I’d moved over here just a month ago and had been so wrapped up in college that I hadn’t really made any close friends. When I’d gotten the news of Patrick’s death, I was alone. The few days afterward I’d spent alone; having another living beings arm around me and feeling their warmth was something that I undoubtedly needed.

After a little while, though, I became aware of the odd stares other people in the café were giving us. Clearing my throat and sitting myself upright, I wiped at my face with my hands. I wanted to get out of their judgmental gazes, but I didn’t want to lose my new found source of comfort. That’s when I remembered the park.

“Would you mind walking across the street to the park with me,” I questioned.

Max smiled softly and nodded. He pulled out a few bills before laying them on the table, ignoring my call of protest, and then took my hand before leading me through the fast moving traffic. He went to let go of it once we’d safely made it onto the pebbled sidewalk, but tightly wrapped his hand around mine once again when I refused to let go.

We strolled through the green scenery, not bothering to talk or even exchange glances as we continued to have the feel of the others skin playing on our palm. When I’d start to open my mouth and say something, I’d quickly shut it in fear of further embarrassing myself. I knew he must have a girlfriend and probably had somewhere else to be right at this moment, but I didn’t want to rid myself of his warm touch.

When we came to bench, he drew close to me and outstretched a hand directed to it. I took a seat and was quickly followed by him. He gave a tight squeeze of my hand and when I turned, he offered me a friendly smile. He continued to let us remain in silence, but he captured my gaze with his light colored orbs. Gentle gusts of wind blew through and ruffled my bangs, causing pieces to fly into my eyes. He quickly would brush them away and let his thumb linger on my cheek for a moment before allowing his hand to fall into his lap again. Small touches like that were frequent as we sat with each other, but he never crossed the line and leaned in to kiss me, though I could see desire coating his eyes.

“I know it’s ridiculous to sit here like this with you, but I don’t seem to be able to come to terms with parting with you,” I finally confessed.

He chuckled and flashed me another smile.

“Well, lucky for you I happen to have no problem with sitting with complete strangers in an almost dark park. I’m very easy like that.”

I laughed at that, feeling as something that felt like warmth seeped into my body. He’d warmed up my skin earlier, but he’d now effectively managed to cause me to feel something other than heartbreaking sadness. He was a stranger that had been nice to me in a café and probably had now stayed longer then he wanted to in this park, but I realized that didn’t mean he couldn’t become something more than a stranger to me. He could become the sort of friend I needed right about now and, as cliché as that sounded, I realized how much I seemed to thaw at the idea. I needed someone and he certainly seemed like he didn’t mind me in the least.