Hope

The train was overcrowded and I had to sneak to the back. I felt like one of grandmame’s threads weaving through the tight fabric of that red dress she had been knitting for me. I leaned against the cold walls of the train and watched my reflection on the door’s window glass. I looked like a very fat thread in that fabric and I was even larger since I was wearing my backpack in front. I was supporting my backpack like grandmame had to support her huge belly.

Her belly suddenly became huge one day— and I thought she was growing a baby but I knew she was too old for that. When she walked, grandmame spread her legs, hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her belly. She said it made it easier. So I tried this with my heavy backpack, and it worked!

The man standing in front of me was stinking under his arm. His armpit stench reminded me of that brown paste grandmame used for the vegetables in our garden. I was sure that paste made her sick until she threw up sometimes. Since, at that moment, even I wanted to throw up in the train.

The man was on his phone, just like almost every person on this train. His other hand was holding on to the rail and I wished I was tall enough to hold on to it so I wouldn’t have to stand under his sweaty armpit. I could see the wet patches on his clothes and my head almost got buried in his armpit when the train stopped and I jolted forward. Luckily, the train was emptied at the next station.

I sat down and looked at the travel schedule screen: thirty more minutes until Salford Crescent. I wanted to take a nap but I was too scared to miss my station.

Up until a week ago, grandmame used to pick me up after school. She would pinch my cheeks, hold my hand, and bring me shopping at Tesco sometimes, or we would go to the town centre at the start of every month for a treat. But all of that stopped because her belly got too heavy for her.

Outside the window, there were houses with gardens and porches and dogs. I always wanted a dog, but I never asked grandmame for one. I never felt like I could ask.

Yesterday, I caught her looking at me with tears in her eyes, and I pretended not to notice. My throat suddenly became very heavy and my palms started sweating until the drops nearly trickled down my arms.

Grandmame often looked at me like I was an abandoned, sick puppy— a hopeless case.

The stinking man from earlier was sitting in front of me. He was staring at me as if he wanted to say something.

I pretended to look outside the window, but I was secretly looking at him on the tainted glass. He looked older than my grandmame. All his hair had turned white, and the wrinkles on his face were so deep that they could probably hold water in them if he splashed his face and didn’t wipe it. He was dressed like a decent man though. I heard grandmame call our neighbour a decent man when he wore a suit and held a briefcase. This man was also wearing a suit and had a briefcase.

He called someone on his phone. I tried not to listen to what he was saying but I was really bored and curious, and he sounded so joyous.

“Sweetheart, I love you so much. You are perfect and it gives me tremendous joy when I think about how your life will unfold. May the Lord bless your beautiful family and your career. Congrats for this new start in life.” He had tears in his eyes and that made his voice become deeper as he said, “I am going to meet your mother today.”

When he hung up, I handed him a handkerchief and he looked very surprised. He wiped his tears and kept it in his hands.

“What is your name little one?”

“My grandmame told me not to speak to strangers.”

“I’m sorry. But, thank you for your beautiful handkerchief.”

“You can keep it. I have a lot more at home.”

“I see.” He remained silent for a few minutes and we both looked outside the window. I wanted to ask him why he cried, but then I thought it would be rude. So I looked at the clouds in the sky and started to count them. There were seven big, white but nearly pinkish clouds, which seemed as juicy as the candy floss at the sweet store across town. The man placed his hand in front of his mouth and coughed. I looked at him and he asked, “You sure you don’t want it back? Won’t your parents ask about it?”

“I only have my grandmame.”

“Where are your parents?”

I looked at him and doubted whether I should encourage the conversation with this stranger. But his face and eyes were so kind— and I was curious about him too. “My grandmame used to say that my parents live in the sky. But then I grew up and learned that they are buried in the ground instead.”

“I am sorry.” He had a very sad smile. “Does that make you sad?”

“Not really.” Then I asked him, “What makes you sad?”

He was silent for a few seconds. During those seconds, I thought I saw him smile. But then he said, “I am sad because I miss my wife.”

“Where is she?”

Suddenly, his face lit up. “Don’t worry. I am going to see her today.”

“Ah, that’s good then.” I paused for a while but a part of me wanted to continue to speak to this stranger— to just tell him what I don’t tell anyone because I know I will never meet him again and that makes it so easier to speak about anything. “When I saw you cry earlier, it made me think about my grandmame.” I took a gulp of air, swallowed the invisible lump in my throat and continued, “I think she is sick. She throws up a lot. And she cries when she sees how fat her belly becomes. She even cries when she cannot bend to pick up something from the floor or when she reads her mails. But she never tells me anything.”

“Do you cry a lot too?”

“Sometimes I do. I feel very sad when grandmame looks at me because I think I make her sad. I don’t know how though.”

He remained quiet for a while— thinking. That man thought too much. He then placed his briefcase on the seat next to him, and opened it. I didn’t look inside even though I really wanted to. When I glanced at him, he had a little black book in his hand. It had a matt cover and a very plain but loud elegance. I wanted to touch the book and feel its texture. He spread its pages and they were as ancient and as thin as him. They had nothing written on them but seemed like they were still ready to bear every word life had to throw at them. He wrote a note on the first page, closed the little book and then said, “I want you to give this to your grandmame. Put it safely in your backpack and do not remove it or open it until you get home.”

I hesitated, but still took it. “Thank you. I have to get down at the next station.” He looked a bit sad. And I felt a bit sad too, so I asked, “You’ll be very happy when you’ll meet your wife later. What have you planned to do?”

“Yes, I will be very happy.” He was pensive again before he said, “We will visit our favourite garden. I think I will be able to rest properly tonight, because it has been a very long and tiring voyage.”

“I understand. It is very tiring. I will take a nap when I reach home too. I hope you have a lovely time with her.”

The smile drawn on his face became wider and he almost laughed before he said, “Thank you, I definitely will. Now, go straight home to your grandmame.”

When I looked at him for the last time before I got up, he had such a peaceful smile. His brown eyes were shining so brightly and I couldn’t understand whether it was from the sun’s light or his tears.

Before I left, I shouted: “Eva! My name’s Eva and it was very nice to meet you!”

He waved.

My grandmame was taking a nap when I reached home. She was so small and crouched like a fetus on the sofa. Her soft cheek was pressed against the cushion. I caressed her wrinkled hand and when she woke up, the horizontal lines of the cushion were all over her cheek. She smiled and I gave her a kiss, burying my lips deep in that same cheek so that it tickled her. Then, I did what the man said, and handed the little black book to grandmame. I told her about the stranger while I searched for her glasses. When I found them, she opened the little book to read the note.

“What does it say?” I was extremely curious to know.

She didn’t answer and took out a detached flyer pressed between the next pages. It was a rectangular piece of paper inscribed with a few sentences, the drawing of fireworks, and a number: $20,000.

Grandmame immediately started to breathe rapidly. She placed one hand over her heart and started crying. Then she placed the other hand in front of her mouth while she exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Grandmame, what’s wrong? Tell me!”

Grandmame looked at me through her tears. She patted my head and kissed me everywhere on my face. She wore the brightest smile I had ever seen when she handed me the little black book. And the note said:

I saw your granddaughter today. She looked very sad. But when I cried, she handed me her handkerchief and said things that turned my tears into a smile. She is a very sweet girl. And I learned that you are very sick. I know we have never met and this must be weird. But I won this lottery ticket today. It does not bear my name or my details, so you can cash it. I can’t smile or find any use for this money. I have not been able to smile ever since my wife passed away, but you still have your granddaughter’s life in your hands. You have to find your strength for her. I hope this will make you both smile. Get well soon.