ALOHA, ALEGRA

Looking down walk on street feet smacking — rain driving wet. Other people’s legs shiny wet don’t look up. Stop now because street and wait and wait with other people’s legs until signal.

Signal.

Walk across street avoid other people’s legs don’t tangle. Look down. Cold. The rain. So wet. Why didn’t I hat? Why didn’t I umbrella? Dumnik.

Someone else’s legs in view. Almost tangle. High black boots. Heels. Legs long, graceful. My eyes creep up the sleek boots to curve of leg black lace stockings so perfect. Up to the bright red wide-belted red-riding hood coat and hood — the face — no phone against the ear hands in pockets — the face so lovely. Ear piece — ear buds. Lovely Red Riding Hood. So beautiful. She speaks –

“Aloha…!?”

Her voice clear sharp and jarring. Singsong-y. Loud. So loud. Even in the rain. Icepick in my ear.

Hate the voice. Hate the way she speaks. Should have known better than to look at her. Red Riding Hood sees me staring. Looks down, looks at me. I’m caught.

Her eyes slide away do not stay on me. Speaks again. Voice sweet, horrid. Loud.

“Aloha? Alegra?!” screams into earpiece. “Alegra can you hear me? Aloha?”

And then looks sharply at me — eyes cold.

“Can I help you?”

Oh God at me! Speaking to me, hand cupping microphone glaring at me. I am caught. I am seen, she knows I was staring.

Red Riding Hood moves fast now — to get away from me. Speaks again. To whoever is on the other end. “No not you, some fucking weirdo staring at me. I hate this city. What? What? What?! Alegra? Can you hear me? Alooohaaa?!!! Aloha, Alegra?”

Red Riding Hood is gone, so far ahead, only a splash of red in the grey. Piercing awful voice fading into the rain. Look down again and don’t be a dumnik again and don’t look at anyone again and get inside where warm.

Train platform. Not warm. Smells like rain and smells like old oil soaked in concrete. And gas and puke and grey. Empty. Wait.

I can wait. I can wait and wait and wait and wait and wait.

Train.

Quicker than I thought.

Doors open. Step on.

Cabin empty! Not a soul in sight as you-know-who would say. Happy! Alone and warm and window to myself and miles of movement and nothing but me and drift and silent and forward… Train will stay a while, announcer says. Be on its way soon he says. Okay by me. Can fade now and dream — awake. Can drift. Can fade and drift.

Head against window — so cool and clear — it holds me.

Wish I didn’t — so sad.

Kia got on the train at Frontenac. The train was late and she was cold. A tall scraggy man with hands stuck deep in his coat pockets was standing close, staring, watching, so she stepped on quickly when the door slid open. The man stepped on close behind her and stayed close behind her. She moved through the cabin hoping he’d sit down and let her move on alone. But he stayed close to her, lock step with her. She concentrated on not looking up. Not initiating in any way. Fuming and alert she hurried. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck.

All the seats were empty. She could sit down anywhere, but if he sat beside her, she’d be alone with him. She could try the thing where she sat down and folded herself up inside and looked away, but it didn’t always work. They always insisted on a response. If you were alone with them, they made you respond. There was no choice. Even no response was a response –

She stepped through the door to the next compartment and heard it snick shut. She did not hear it snick open. She sighed, relieved. He had not followed.

It was the front of the train. The door ahead led to the driver’s compartment, so if anything happened, she could run, she could pound, and the driver would open the door.

Unless — maybe there was no driver and the train ran on auto. If that was a thing. Did trains run without a driver? Kia didn’t know.

The cabin was empty but for one lone woman seated by the window in the middle of the car hunched over, folded into herself. Her stringy hair covered her face, her head rested on the window. The woman shifted in her seat. She must have heard the door snick open too, but she hadn’t turned to see who’d entered.

Kia did not want to sit next to the Stringy-Hair. However, if she sat alone and man entered, man might sit next to her. So she sat down beside the Stringy-Hair. Stringy-Hair shrank away from Kia, as if she wanted to become one with the window.

Kia drew a breath.

Stringy-Hair darted a glance at her.

“Sorry,” Kia said.

Stringy-Hair started and stared at Kia as if she’d never heard words before.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Kia said.

“No.” Stringy-Hair’s voice was a croak. She cleared her throat. “No, you didn’t. I get — zoned out and then something, or a sound zips me and I jump. Sorry.” Stringy-Hair blinked stupidly. The words did not make sense, but Kia understood.

“I know what you mean,” Kia said. “You were in your own space. I get it.”

The train started.

Kia looked back to see if man had entered, but the door was still shut. She sighed and leaned her head back against the soft seat. She chuckled again. Stringy-Hair glanced at her.

Kia put in her ear buds and found the playlist and let it run. She closed her eyes. The music and the movement lulled. Lovin’ you is easy ’cause you’re beautiful. Everything I do is out of loving you…

She left it all behind as the music music-ed and her brain unwound from not-safe to safe, then she turned her head and saw Stringy-Hair staring at her. Stringy-Hair whipped away, red-faced, out the window staring.

“Too loud?” Kia asked Stringy-Hair.

“No,” croaked Stringy-Hair. “I just — I like the song. I remember that song.”

“Yeah? I love this song too.”

“I used to listen to it — back when I was young — younger.” Stringy-Hair smiled, flushed, turned her face.

Kia smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s a good song. I like it too.”

The door snicked. Kia looked to see if man had entered but it was just the train’s movement jostling the door.

Stringy-Hair looked toward the door with her.

“A guy got on the train with me,” Kia explained. “He might have been a creep, so I came in here and sat by you. He stayed in the other car. I keep thinking he’ll follow me in here.”

“Oh.” Stringy-Hair nodded.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, I just didn’t want to sit alone.”

“No, no, I understand.”

“I can sit over there. I think it’s okay now, if you want to be alone.”

Stringy-Hair stared at her, the same stare as before with the music, quizzical and sad, and hopeful too. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I wasn’t welcoming when you sat next to me. I made you uncomfortable.”

“You probably wondered why I sat next to you when the whole car is empty.”

“Yes, and I’m all wet and embarrassed and I didn’t want you to see.”

Kia looked closer at the woman. Her hair was only stringy because it was so wet. Her thin face was pale beneath the rain-soaked hair.

“You are all wet! Why are you all wet?”

Dismay was gaunt on Stringy-Hair’s face, as if she’d been caught with the gun in her hand standing over the body; but Kia smiled and her face was warm.

Stringy-Hair spoke, her voice shaking. “I didn’t bring my stupid hat because it looks stupid and I didn’t bring my umbrella because I don’t have one. I never think about the stupid rain and then it always rains.”

“Stupid rain,” Kia said sympathetically.

Stringy-Hair rested her head on the back of the chair, tilting her head toward Kia.

“Stupid, stupid rain,” Stringy-Hair agreed, “and stupid, stupid creep on a train.”

“Yeah, fuck all creeps on all trains.”

Stringy-Hair nodded and said softly, “What about fuck all creeps on all streets…”

“That too, I guess,” Kia said. “Did you run into a creep on the street?”

“No.” Stringy-Hair shook her head. She looked at Kia and her face was filled with shame. “I was the creep.”

“How were you a creep?”

Stringy-Hair said: “I was trying to get to the station, and I saw this woman, she was so beautiful. And I stared at her and she said something so loud and I gave her a weird look because what she said annoyed me and she saw me staring at her and got scared and ran away.”

“What did she say that annoyed you?”

“If I tell you you’ll definitely think I’m a creep.”

“I know you’re not a creep. I can spot creeps a mile away and you’re not one.”

“She said — ” Stringy-Hair cleared her throat. “She said — ”

The door snicked open again and they both looked back, alarmed. But it was just the jostle.

After a bit Kia prompted, “So what did she say?”

“She ran away from me. I scared her. It’s silly, what she said, but I think I just saw her, and she was so — ” Stringy-Hair drew a breath. “ — beautiful, but she sounded so awful. And I made a face and it scared her. I didn’t mean to scare her…” Stringy-Hair trailed off.

“She’s probably already forgotten it. It doesn’t sound like you meant any harm.”

“No, I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t mean anything.”

They smiled then at each other, and Stringy-Hair’s narrow eyes were as wet as her hair.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Kia said, “I’m sorry if I interrupted whatever you were thinking when I sat down.”

Stringy-Hair answered without turning her head. “You didn’t interrupt thinking. I wasn’t really thinking. Just my daydreams. I like to sit at the window seat and not think and just drift and stare and daydream.”

Then Stringy-Hair looked directly at Kia, truly curious. “What do you think about with the music, when you’re listening I mean?”

“I’ve never given it much thought. It’s like being in a safe place where there’s no time and the movement is all it is and you’re just. . .sort of okay. And it renews. You know?”

“Yes I know.”

The door snicked. They both jumped and turned to look. Nothing.

“Jeez,” Kia said. “I wish he would come in now so I didn’t keep jumping. I’m so sick of assholes.”

“If he came in and sat right across from us, what would you say to him? What if he said he didn’t want to hurt you? Would you feel bad for avoiding him?”

Kia thought for a moment. “No. I wouldn’t feel bad. I’m not in a position to give any guy the benefit of the doubt. I’m not obligated to, either. No woman alone in any space with a man following them is obligated to do that. You know what I mean?”

Stringy-Hair was nodding, and she said dreamily, “Humans on a train…”

“What?”

“You know that movie with what’s-his-name? Snakes on a plane? Humans on a train — or humans on the street is scarier.”

Kia nodded, feeling sober for the first time since she’d sat down next to Stringy-Hair.

“Aloha, Alegra,” Stringy-Hair said.

“What?”

“That’s what the woman said that made me annoyed, that made me look at her weird.”

Kia laughed. “Seriously? Yeah, that’d annoy me too.”

“Yeah. But I was just going to smile at her, friendly, and instead I freaked her out. I don’t have a good face for friendly.”

“That’s okay. I don’t know if anyone has a good face for friendly.” Then, because it felt right, she stretched out her hand to Stringy-Hair. “Hi, human on a train,” she said kindly.

Stringy-Hair jumped a little, as if the outstretched hand was poisonous. But then she tentatively reached out and shook it; her thin face brightened.

“Human on a train. Hi,” Stringy-Hair said.

They held hands for a long moment looking at each other warmly.

“Aloha, Alegra,” Kia said mischievously.

“Aloha, Alegra,” Stringy-Hair answered.

The train stopped.

They both sat still. Surely it couldn’t be time to get off, but it was. Stringy-Hair was looking at her, sad again. Thoughtful.

“What’s your name?” Kia asked because Stringy-Hair was getting up to leave.

“Marion,” Stringy-Hair said, quickly, as if it wasn’t at all important. “It was nice­­­­ — ”

“ — Yeah — ”

Stringy-Hair still did not get off the train. She looked as if she was trying to get words out, but she said nothing. So Kia spoke for her.

“I take this way home a lot, we should exchange numbers so we can ride together.”

Stringy-Hair nodded and fumbled for her phone.

They hurriedly exchanged numbers and then Marion ran for the door as if a dragon was chasing her. Kia watched her. Three others got on the train, a man and two women. They dispersed throughout the car and Kia slid over to the window seat Marion had recently occupied. She looked out the window, phone still in her hand.

She saw Marion standing on the platform, also with phone in hand, her face blank, her lips moving.

Dumnik dumnik dumnik ‘here’s my number, let’s hang out sometime’ all I had to say, I’m so stupid — probably was so happy to get rid of me probably was happy to say goodbye to the weirdo on the train. She was so nice I am so sorry stop stop thinking stop thinking stop thinking –

The door behind her snicked but Kia did not turn to look; she watched Marion out the window. Marion, shrunken, forlorn and speaking to herself. Kia didn’t know what Marion was saying to herself, but she could guess. Kia had a flash of inspiration; she sent a deft text to Marion’s number and watched Marion’s face intently through the dirty window. The train rumbled to a jerky start and Kia had to strain her neck to keep Marion in sight as they were carried away from each other. In that moment Marion looked down at her phone, read the message and smiled a wide smile.