We found ourselves in the end of a crammed Jubilee line train car. We were somewhere or other, going to another somewhere or other. Going the wrong direction for one stop did not bother me. As we pulled into the wrong station, we said goodbye to our friend who found the situation very amusing, along with the stranger next to us, who chose to say nothing about it but was with us regardless. We got back into the station we were just at before going the wrong way, and unexplained hordes of old people were filtering their way in, just after the man next to us dropped his beer. He had 3 cans of Heineken or some other green beer that contrasted with the black plastic bag of the corner shop. He dropped his open one, and was desperately cleaning it up before the elders came in. It was a nice sign of inebriated respect.
We both silently were asking what show could it be that attracted such an old crowd? Was it the Groove Armada exclusively 50+ show? I had that thought for a second and then I returned to her. We had been gradually stuffed further and further back, till we were now butting with the door at the end of the car, that connects to the next car. We each had an earbud in, connected to her phone by wire. Our hands mirrored how the cable connected to the phone. She was in a mood to play the music she likes, which I cherish because she’s not catering it to my taste. I want nothing but to stare at her uninterrupted, and I allow myself to fall into the trance of her gentle blue eyes.
It is interrupted. We look towards one of the small doors next to us, and this old woman had been separated from her group. She was also going the wrong way, but was quite bothered and confused by it. She somehow opens the door of the train, but the platform screen doors that you only see on the Jubilee line shut in her face. She was in no man’s land, out of the train, but not on the platform. Us, the train goers, and the others, the platform waiters, were now united in a silent panic that befell all of us, as surely some of us imagined the worst. Nothing happens, the doors open and she is united with her group. Life is usually dull, and that is a good thing.
I can return to her, return to what is externally also a dull moment of two people commuting. It is nothing short of something extraordinary to me. She is my lifeforce. She is a lifeforce. She is a lily and I am one of the few privileged bees. Her leaves hold the dew which sustains me. She does not ask for anything in return. I look at her and my eyes lock on to hers. Her’s shift away with a shy smile and a laugh every few moments, but I am hypnotised. I look at her with disbelief, and she is in disbelief that someone looks at her that way.
We are now fully crammed in this train car. We look to the other car and see silent scenes of people. We watch as people laugh and talk. Another man and woman, crammed towards the back of their car, look at us. We wave and they laugh and we laugh and we make silly faces like children. This is how she makes the air around her. It becomes easier to breathe, and your lungs exhales into soft noises.
Since meeting her my biggest fear has been becoming a fool. Everything I do is self-policed by this avoidance of becoming a fool. Only an idiot would not protect this above all, only a moron would allow this to be lost. Acting terribly is one thing, but complacency would be a silent killer. So take anything from me; ask me for anything. Nothing I can give you can match what you give me. And you still never ask for anything. Angels are not transactional.
We arrive to the wherever we were going. I can only pray for a train failure next time, a red signal, more stops going the wrong direction. I want more dullness with you. I hope we run out of soap and we have to go get some. Come with me to the barber. I’ll go to the dentist with you. When do you need to renew your ID? Yes of course I’ll come to the dry cleaners with you. Let’s do anything, and let’s do that for a while.
