I remember the events of the day clearly. It was a crappy rainy day and the wind was howling from the south. I made it to my meeting in South Seattle 10 minutes early and I made it back to the downtown Seattle bus tunnel at Westlake Center. I stepped off the bus and glanced up at the clock. 1118am. I thought about how ironic it was that today was 11-18-09.
The tunnel had barely any foot traffic. I looked up and saw a bus coming towards me. The 594 to Tacoma. I just came from that direction. I'm going the other way.
The bus pulled up slowly and stopped. Four people next to me got on the bus. The old man with the walker slowly made his way towards the open doors. This may take awhile.
"I hope I don't need a walker when I get old," I thought to myself.
My eyes shifted from the front door and moved left. About 6 rows back I saw her. She was reading a book. I instinctively lowered my head to see over my sunglasses. Just as I reached up to remove them, she glanced out the window and looked directly into my eyes.
I was standing right in front of her window. I felt like a voyeur. I felt like I was intruding on her space. I felt the back of my neck tingle. I felt like a little kid with a schoolgirl crush.
As I peeled my sunglasses off my pupils contracted and focused only on her face. The rest of the world melted away. She used her right hand to tuck her bangs behind her right ear. Each finger was adorned with a single matching silver ring. The faint glow of the tunnel's fluorescent lights gleamed off each of them.
Her eyes were a piercing color of blue. They reminded me of a postcard that I had received once. The picture showed a crystal clear day on a beach with perfectly calm blue waters and not a cloud in the sky. The caption read: Take away your blues and come enjoy ours. The Caymans.
"Good morning", I said. I thought that I had mouthed the words, but in all reality I said it out loud.
I heard something drop. The old man had dropped his umbrella as he stepped onto the bus. I never even flinched. My eyes remained attached to hers.
She reached toward my face as if to touch me gently. Her fingertips softly touched the glass.
"Good morning," she whispered back to me. I hoped she was using her inside voice.
I felt as though I was sending her off to the Army. I felt it was the last time that I would see her.
I remember all the letters that my basic training buddies had received back in 1991. Grown men crying. There is nothing worse in this world than that. Then they would fly off into a rage and tip over their bunks and throw their shit everywhere. I would laugh to myself but I was a heartless fucker back then. That was where I learned to separate myself from situations and place myself outside the box: view yourself from the outside looking in.
It's a strange feeling to be able to watch yourself react to events. Take yourself out of your own eyes and place yourself high above, looking down on the activity below.
The seat next to her was vacant.
The old man couldn't reach his umbrella.
I had nothing to do for the next two days.
She was amazing.
I raised my hand to touch her outstretched fingers.
"Who are you?" she had whispered from behind the glass. I felt like I was in county jail again, hindered ruthlessly by bulletproof glass, with no phone. I didn't know what to say.
Did we have some sort of connection? What was it that drew us together? Why were we both reaching for each other in the faint yellow glow of the artificial light? Where was she going? What was happening?
The umbrella was still lying on the step of the bus. I was still frozen in time. She was trying to tell me something. She had whispered, "Who are you?" and I was still trying to answer.
Something snapped.
My feet started walking towards the front of the bus but my eyes never left hers.
Even when I picked up the old man's umbrella I could feel her eyes. I was outside the box. I could see myself from above as I disappeared onto the bus.
The old man took a seat near the front right behind the driver. I swiped my card and stood behind him with only one thing on my mind: the answer to her question.
Our eyes were locked, but there was something deeper.
Did I know this girl from somewhere else?
Did we ever meet?
Did she know something that I didn't?
I politely stood by her adjacent seat and glanced down with my eyes, "May I?"
"Sure," she said.
My heart, mind and soul melted as I heard her voice. I put my backpack in the aisle and sat down. Her voice was familiar, as if I had talked to her only hours ago.
Any awkward feelings that I should have felt were left on the platform outside. I offered my right hand to gesture for a handshake.
"Hi, my name is Sean," the words fell out of my mouth. "Have we met before?"
"I don't think so," she replied and reached for my hand to reciprocate my gesture.
"Well," I touched her hand as it melted in mine. "Then I'm glad that we finally have." I held her hand lightly in mine. I leaned forward and kissed her middle finger gently.
"What's your name?" I said.
"My name is Jaclyn," she half whispered in my ear. "But my friends call me Jaci." she smiled.
"Well," I said calmly. "My name is Sean."
"You already said that, Sean," she replied. She had herself a little chuckle at my expense. Her chuckle turned into a grin and slowly a small smile that made me glad that I wasn't wearing sunglasses. I'm sure that her smile reflected back to her through my 'puppy dog' eyes.
I felt my face start to blush. I felt my heart start to beat faster. I felt everything and nothing all at the same time.
"Nice to meet you Jaci," I replied.
"Nice to finally meet you Jaci," I repeated.
Again I said it.
