Everyday Strangers

The snow fell in thick, wet flakes. It came down heavy and swirled in an icy wind that tore through the jackets of the two lone strangers waiting at the bus stop that morning.

The girl kept rocking, swaying back and forth to keep herself warm. She wore a long, dark coat with a fur-trimmed hood that was pulled up over her toque. A navy blue scarf was wrapped around her neck, the way her shoulders were hunched up made it tickle her nose. Her hands, balled into fists inside her mittens, were also shoved into the pockets of her coat. Even so, she was still shivering from the cold.

The boy standing a few feet away from her looked much the same: large dark jacket, heavy winter boots, warm hat stuffed inside his jacket hood. He was missing the scarf and regretting it. His dark green eyes kept flicking up to the stranger, following her movement. How could she be cold when she had a scarf and a longer jacket? He blew warm air into his gloved hands, trying desperately to generate some warmth.

Finally, after what had seemed an icy eternity, the pair heard the familiar rumbling of a bus just down the street. Sniffling, the boy inched closer to the curb, ready to board. The girl moved nearer to him, and they shared polite half-smiles with one another when their eyes met. Something about her brown eyes caught his interest for a moment, but both his attention and his breath were taken by the wind blowing at his face and down the neck of his jacket.

With a squealing sort of hiss, the bus pulled to a stop in front of them. Warm exhaust wrapped around them like a promise of the heat inside, and the girl– closer to the door–stepped aboard gratefully. The boy followed suit, and they found separate seats across the aisle from one another.

The girl pulled her hands out of her pockets and removed her gloves, rubbing her hands together to get rid of the prickling numbness that had set in. The boy watched from two rows back as she took her hood down, and pulled off her hat. Her cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold. Her hair was a memorable shade of not-quite-red brown, and he realized he had sat next to her a little over a month ago. She had been kind enough to slide over in her double seat, lifting a pile of her belongings into her lap, so that he would have a place to sit on a particularly crowded Sunday afternoon. They had shared pleasantries, and he remembered thinking she was sweet. He had seen a sticker for a local college on her bag, and he’d wondered since then if he should ask her out for coffee.

As the bus drove off with a lurching start, he settled in for the long drive to the shelter he was volunteering at across the city. He noticed the girl putting on her headphones, and bringing out a book from her bag. It looked large in her dainty hands, and he wondered how she could focus on the text while listening to music. He had never been able to work that way; he needed a consistent, clutter-free, distraction-free space in order to work or read.

He found himself wondering idly about the girl: where was she going, and why did she have to go in this weather?

His thoughts were interrupted as the bus skidded around a corner. He clutched onto the back of the seat in front of him as the sliding of the wheels on ice caused his stomach to flip and churn in a sick way. His heart began to beat hard in his chest, and when the bus started moving normally he opened his eyes, realizing he had shut them tight. When he blinked into the light of the bus his eyes locked with the girl once more. She took a steadying breath, and they shared nervous chuckles from their seats.

“Sorry about that, folks. Winter drivin’, y’know.” The bus driver’s voice was low and scratchy, and the boy had a feeling that the driver, too, had been scared by the loss of control.

Taking steadying breaths, the boy turned his attention to the storm raging on outside. He could barely see the street signs across the way through the heavy snow. The wind howled and roared against the side of the bus, and sirens wailed in the distance. Dread began to build in the pit of his stomach, but it always did when he was out in this weather. Something about the power of winter storms made him feel helpless and small, and that made his anxiety skyrocket.

He drummed his fingers on the cool seat beside him, trying to calculate how much longer he had on his journey. He sighed, wondering why he had even agreed to volunteer on a Tuesday. But after a few blocks, he saw a homeless man hunched in an alleyway with a ratty old sleeping bag pulled up around him. He felt the familiar pang of heart-wrenching sympathy and reminded himself that he was going today to fill in for another volunteer who couldn’t make it because of the weather. He was going to help serve those who shouldn’t need to be caught outside on a day like this. He was going to hopefully help spread a little joy, a little love, and a little warmth to someone; a stranger he knew he might never see again, but a human who deserved it nonetheless.

The sound of sirens outside made him pay attention to his surroundings once again. There were layers of different sirens this time– police, fire, and ambulance, he guessed– and they were much closer than the last ones he had heard. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins, as a sickening feeling inexplicably washed over him. He feared that something was wrong– or something was about to be.

He looked forward, out the front window with just a fraction of a second to comprehend it. There, before the bus, was a pile-up of vehicles. Vehicles turned every which way were in the ditch and in both lanes, smashed and twisted and warped together. The bus had just merged onto the highway, and he knew at that moment they were going too fast to stop. He saw the flashing lights of the approaching sirens, heard the blast of a trucker’s horn, and saw the headlights of a semi in the next lane coming towards him from the corner of his eye. Then the world around him exploded.

Snow and ice were packed around him. The wind stung at his cheeks, but the pain of its presence was nothing compared to what the rest of him was feeling. Glass and metal were crushed up under his cheek, and his ribs burned with every breath. He heard himself wheezing, gasping for air, and he wondered how long he had been out of it for. The light looked wrong; like time had passed without his knowledge.

With a groan, he tried to lift his head. There was a throbbing pain in his temple when he turned, and he winced against it. There before him, remarkably close for how far apart they had been seated, was the girl from the bus. Her hair was matted and stained crimson on the side of her head. Blood trickled down from an open wound and was streaked across her cheeks. She was watching him and gave an audible gasp when he moved to look at her.

“Oh thank God!” She said. “I thought you’d died.” There were tears in her eyes, he noticed and tracks down her face from where they had been running freely.

“Don’t… worry…” He panted, struggling to get a good breath. “Ambulance were already… on their way… Saw them,” He spoke in a broken, unfamiliar way, his voice shaking and weak, “before the… crash.”

“Are… are you okay?” She asked him, hearing the struggle in his voice. He did his best to nod, and he watched as her brown eyes traced from the top of his head, down. “Uhm, can you feel your legs?” She asked quietly.

A cold shock ran through him at her words. He tried to tilt his head to follow her gaze, but he couldn’t bend the right way to do so, and he found that he was stuck in such a way that didn’t allow for his body to move. Lying still, he tried to wiggle his fingers and his toes. He felt his hands drag across the cold pavement, hitting sharp metal or glass. But he couldn’t tell for sure if he was moving his toes. He couldn’t tell much of anything really.

“I don’t know…” He coughed, tasting blood. “Why?”

“I just can’t see. There’s too much metal. The bus is pushed in funny, and there’s a tire from another vehicle hanging up over your back.”

The boy coughed again and closed his eyes. He knew this wasn’t good.

“Distract me.” He pleaded, his green eyes locking in on her gaze.

“Uhm, I don’t… How?” She questioned helplessly.

“What… What’s your name?”

“Oh. I’m Laura.” She paused, and he blinked weakly, encouraging her to keep talking. “Uhm, I think we met once? Maybe a month ago. It... it was warmer out, then. The bus was full, so you sat next to me.” The boy smiled weakly as she continued, “I was nervous… I’d seen you on the bus before and had always had a crush on you.” She chuckled half-heartedly.

“I… Remember you. Laura.” He said slowly. “I liked… you… too.” His words were slurring together now, and his lips felt numb. He felt like he couldn’t form his words properly. He tasted salt on his lips, mixing with the iron-like taste of his own blood. He blinked and realized he was crying now.

“What’s your name?” Laura asked him, half sobbing, half laughing. “‘Cause if we make it through this, I’d really like to go out with you.”

“Mi…” He started, then began to cough. It was a wet, hacking cough. Blood pooled in his mouth, and he spat it out. “Mitchell.” He managed to gasp.

She cried silently, looking at his paling face and his blood-soaked mouth. His striking green eyes had dark shadows under them now, and he was beginning to blink more slowly. He licked his lips and tried to speak to her, but he couldn’t manage without coughing more. Why hadn’t he asked her out sooner? He wondered why he always let his anxious thoughts overwhelm him. Now, more than ever, he regretted living so complacently.

“Help! Someone help us!” Laura began to shout. “Mitchell, they’re gonna come, okay? You just… you need to breathe. Stay with me, okay? We are going to get through this together. Stay with me.”

He did his best to keep his eyes open. He opted to study her features, imagine what sort of life they could have had together if he had been brave enough to ask her out when he first wanted to. He noted her gentle brown eyes and her auburn hair, the way her eyebrows furrowed as she called for help.

A little over a month ago they had been everyday strangers; two people at a bus stop who had looked at each other but never really seen one another. They were the kind of strangers that you pass in the supermarket or on your daily walk… someone you encounter in the everyday, but you never pay attention to.

A chance encounter had allowed them to notice each other for the first time, but strangers they had remained. And now Mitchell was spending these agonizing moments wishing he had seen her earlier, noticed her, spoken to her…

He moved his left arm, mustering all the energy his exhausted body could. He stretched it up past his head, dragging it through the snow and debris.

“L… Lau… Laura…” He whispered, reaching for her.

Crying, she reached her hand out to his, and he felt warm for the first time since he’d woken out there as their hands clasped together.

“Th… thank you.” Was the last thing he said. He began to cough, warm blood bubbling up and spilling past his lips. He looked afraid for a moment, then when the coughing stopped he smiled at Laura. He couldn’t fight the exhaustion weighing on him anymore, and he closed his eyes.