World Spins Madly On

A Park Bench (Pt. 3)

3.

Bryan lay peacefully amongst his own thoughts as he looked at that same water, from the same bench he had once sat every day at this same time: every day at this very same minute. He recalled it first occurring to him as odd that for the past two days, having arrived at his bench from work, his watch had read the same thing. Had it been any other time he would probably never have noticed – arriving at 11:10 three days running would be completely uninteresting and ordinary, and 11:12 equally insignificant – but, there was something different about 11:11. And, when on the fourth day a quick glance revealed that same number repeated three times over, he had – not entirely subconsciously – made it his effort to arrive here at that minute of that hour.

He occasionally missed his target and those days, perhaps only by his imagination, tended to be “bad days”. That time had become a lucky charm to him – though perhaps one he wasn’t sure could be trusted. He welcomed it cautiously, not knowing whether it was truly a friend or an enemy. And he equally laughed at it and himself for following it as he, a logical person, did not believe in superstition (this ignoring the dedication with which he followed it).

And so on this day, on his return to the bench since that day last week - when he had met her, he had taken extra special care to arrive here at that time, whilst also pretending to himself he was doing no such thing. The truth was he knew that if he was to meet her again this would be the time.

And he had to meet her. He had to. Ever since that day in the park, when their eyes met for that briefest moment, she had been the only thing on his mind. On arriving home he instantly regretted not having spoken to her, just to have said.. anything. He understood now that for those two to three seconds or so he had felt alive again for the first time in many years. Had she felt the same? YES. Of course she had. She had to have.

Then where was she?! Surely she should have been here by now; it was almost 11:15. He shouldn’t worry, she would be here he reassured himself.

He wondered what her name was. For the past few days since he decided he was going to come and meet her he had been trying to guess what it might be. Perhaps Claire, he suggested. She had that look. He imagined her being gentle, almost shy at first, and incredibly caring.

She had lost something like he had, and she felt that same emptiness.

He was here to fix her.

But that was a ridiculous thought: the idea that he could assume all that simply from a glance. One glance. To her it had probably meant nothing. She had walked away and continued with her life and shared other glances with other people and they had meant equally as little.

No. It had been more than that. For that briefest moment he was sure he could remember the hint of a smile: but that was all it had been – a smile. A brief union of their eyes. A shared moment between two people. That happened all the time for most.

He looked up from the water, which he now realised was far dirtier than it had been the week previous, and laughed at what he had become. A few days and he had already become so utterly obsessed with this fantasy, it was almost pathetic. And yet it was normal. He remembered fantasising in such a way long before he’d lost his first love; even occasionally whilst he was with her, though he would never have acted upon it. But that was all it had been – a fantasy, and that was all it had ever stayed.

His thoughts now seemed clear and determined in a way which reminded him of his old self. The person he was here to meet did not exist. She existed only in his imagination, and there was nothing wrong with that, but he should not be trying to meet her. That would only lead to disappointment.

Bryan stood and walked away, life continuing. The moment he had shared remembered fondly as one perfect moment in time. Never to be acknowledged for all of its true significance.