Talk to Stuart Bogue on the Fictionville blog
I could not stop myself from wondering what was being said. Looking through the window, I could see the woman in tears. But more than the tears, I could see pain. The man beside her looked sad, but not so sad as she did. The child looked so confused. But her pain was missing from the two of t hem. She looked as if she would break. As thought the world had indeed come crashing down. I was only inches away, but the glass and steel seemed to make me invisible. The wall of hurt and pain isolating her from me and the world. Alone even with the others so close. Death, betrayal. All together? It seemed possible. Her pain so real as to feel it through the glass. What to say through the glass? What to offer? How to share this pain? Can she be helped? Those beside her clearly could offer her nothing. Were they the cause? Was it his words? A phone call? A letter? A feeling? A glance? Where had it come from? Was it a lifetime of pain coming home? Delivered in a moment. Crashing her heart. Crushing her dreams. The tears only an outward occurrence. Her eyes showed more than a tear could hold. Her small body turned away from those beside her. The man stared straight ahead. Not giving in to her pain. He wasn't happy. He wasn't sad. He wasn't angry. He was simply where he didn't want to be. Her pain left no room for him. The boy's confusion surrounded him. Did he know what was wrong? He cared, but was helpless in his youth. Her tears continued to fall.
The desire to reach out to her is so strong. The need to help her, to make her pain go away. To make it alright for her. To help the boy who could not help himself. To push the man away. Was this fair. Was he only saving himself from all that she was feeling? Could any of us feel what she was feeling?
Tighter she drew into herself. Crushed in the grief. All of it closing in. She gave in to the weight. Her sobs making her small body heave. Even still, he sat to her side. Why does he not reach for her? Can he not? It is in his eyes. The slump of his shoulders beside her. The inches between them too wide to reach across.
Help her. Feel with her. Hold her shaking body. Share her pain. Draw it from her with a touch. Reach out!
But no one did. The boy only stared. The man drawing himself in tighter. The tears flowed from her as from the start.
The impulse to reach out grew stronger. Now was the time. Only inches separating. The desire to share this pain. To make the world ok for us all. For how can life move forward on with this pain so clearly in front?.Now. Now is the time. Now or never. Her pain grown so large.
The traffic light changes. A horn blows. The car pulls away. The moment is gone. To late to help. Her pain disappears from view .The car grows small. The box flashes. WALK.