"You’re brilliant", the stranger said. “You love your friend, and this is beautiful. But there’s nothing wrong in loving yourself. In desiring something.”
“There’s more”, Penny said.
She went on talking, losing the sense of time. She talked about the guy in the office who treated all the women like shit. She talked of her aging mother, about the regrets that rainy days take with them.
And she felt better.
This was exactly what she needed: talking. Talking without being judged, talking as people once did around bonfires. “You really are Mary Poppins”, Penny said, more cheerful than she thought possible, after a long chat.
The stranger smiled. “Mary Poppins had black hair.”
“Perhaps there are hairdressers on the clouds.”
“Look”, said the stranger, pointing at the window. “The rain is over, and the wind has changed.”
It was true. The floor was still wet, but the streets were full of a mellow sunset light.
Penny felt good. The chat had worked its magic; not only on her, but the whole of London felt good. In a better mood, with a renewed faith in tomorrow.
The stranger stood up. “I need to go, now. It’s been lovely to talk with you.”
“Don’t say it”, said Penny. “You’ve been so helpful.”
“I like to help, Penny. Just, please, always be kind to yourself. And take care.”
The stranger headed towards the exit.
In that moment Penny realized she hadn’t asked her name: in her mind she had been only the stranger. She opened her mouth to ask it, but the stranger was already outside.
Penny reached the door.
She looked right, she looked left, she looked down the street in front of the pub, but the stranger was nowhere to be seen. She was lost in the red sunset and the changing wind.
“I’ll call you Mary”, Penny whispered. It felt the right thing to do.
Penny took off her broken shoes and went home.
She whistled along the way.
"Sometimes - often I think - telling stories that are embarrassing or even downright crazy is easier when you're telling them to a stranger." Stephen King
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
A story of a Changin' Wind #7
The stranger nodded in understanding. “What happened?”
Penny hesitated. Confiding to a stranger was against her grain - it was something she had never done before. But some of her friends said it helps. Some of her friends used to chat with people all time. Besides, the woman in front of her wasn’t exactly curious - she didn’t want to intrude. She was compassionate. She was empathetic. Perhaps she just was a good listener.
“It’s been all wrong since this morning”, Penny said. “I woke up and... well, I don’t like to being alone. Perhaps it’s been a dream I’ve made, I don’t know. It’s just that I felt alone, and I didn’t like it.”
“You have no boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”
“Nothing of the sort. I broke with my boyfriend a couple of months ago. It wasn’t particularly bad: our story didn’t work, that’s all. But sometimes I still miss it. The bed feels cold without him. Actually it is colder, but it also feels cold in a different sense. Like, bigger. Lonelier.”
“I see”, the stranger said.
“And then the hot water in the shower didn’t work, so I need to call the landlord, but he’s such an asshole, so I always delay calling him. Cold shower, then, and... you know, I love to have milk in my tea. But the milk was off and I hadn’t bought any yesterday. Damn it, it’s all so stupid!”
“It’s not. Small things can hurt us as much as big ones.”
“It doesn’t sound.. petty?”
The stranger smiled. “Not at all. Go on.”
“There were other small things. The rain. The wind. My boss: he’s not a bad guy, but he lives for his job, and he wants us to do the same, but I’d rather stay sane. I want to have a life. And...” Penny was feeling better. The weight on her soul was being lifted, word after word. So she decided to continue. “...and around midday Susan, my best friend, called me. She’s pregnant. Good news: she really wanted a baby.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
“I’m terribly happy for her. But I remembered the morning, how lonely I was. Susan wakes up with her husband, every day, and now, the baby. I’m happy for her, as I said, but...I’d like to be happy for myself, as well. Am I a bad person?”
[...to be continued!]
Penny hesitated. Confiding to a stranger was against her grain - it was something she had never done before. But some of her friends said it helps. Some of her friends used to chat with people all time. Besides, the woman in front of her wasn’t exactly curious - she didn’t want to intrude. She was compassionate. She was empathetic. Perhaps she just was a good listener.
“It’s been all wrong since this morning”, Penny said. “I woke up and... well, I don’t like to being alone. Perhaps it’s been a dream I’ve made, I don’t know. It’s just that I felt alone, and I didn’t like it.”
“You have no boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”
“Nothing of the sort. I broke with my boyfriend a couple of months ago. It wasn’t particularly bad: our story didn’t work, that’s all. But sometimes I still miss it. The bed feels cold without him. Actually it is colder, but it also feels cold in a different sense. Like, bigger. Lonelier.”
“I see”, the stranger said.
“And then the hot water in the shower didn’t work, so I need to call the landlord, but he’s such an asshole, so I always delay calling him. Cold shower, then, and... you know, I love to have milk in my tea. But the milk was off and I hadn’t bought any yesterday. Damn it, it’s all so stupid!”
“It’s not. Small things can hurt us as much as big ones.”
“It doesn’t sound.. petty?”
The stranger smiled. “Not at all. Go on.”
“There were other small things. The rain. The wind. My boss: he’s not a bad guy, but he lives for his job, and he wants us to do the same, but I’d rather stay sane. I want to have a life. And...” Penny was feeling better. The weight on her soul was being lifted, word after word. So she decided to continue. “...and around midday Susan, my best friend, called me. She’s pregnant. Good news: she really wanted a baby.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
“I’m terribly happy for her. But I remembered the morning, how lonely I was. Susan wakes up with her husband, every day, and now, the baby. I’m happy for her, as I said, but...I’d like to be happy for myself, as well. Am I a bad person?”
[...to be continued!]
Friday, 8 July 2011
A story of a Changin' Wind #6
They entered the first cafe they found. “There’s too much rain to be fussy”, the stranger said, and Penny couldn’t agree more.
The stranger ordered a pot of tea, and she also found two free seats, at a table near the window. From there they could see outside, the people moving in the rain, the entire city packing for the night.
“So”, the stranger said, “bad day, mh?”
“Worse than usual.”
“Why, you usually have bad days?”
Penny sipped her tea. “No, not really. But when you have a really bad one, it seems all the others have been bad as well.”
[...to be continued!]
The stranger ordered a pot of tea, and she also found two free seats, at a table near the window. From there they could see outside, the people moving in the rain, the entire city packing for the night.
“So”, the stranger said, “bad day, mh?”
“Worse than usual.”
“Why, you usually have bad days?”
Penny sipped her tea. “No, not really. But when you have a really bad one, it seems all the others have been bad as well.”
[...to be continued!]
Thursday, 7 July 2011
A story of a Changin' Wind #5
When you are on the edge, an act of kindness can make you cry more than an act of cruelty. And it is a good thing; for crying is the way in which we vent off frustration. By crying we clean the house and make space for new, better days. Penny realized this, but still, she felt awkward in crying in front of a stranger.
That particular stranger didn’t mind. She just pointed at the sheets and said: “It must be pretty moving paperwork. Is it?”
Penny smiled, wiping off the tears. “Thank you.”
“What’s your name?”, the stranger asked, stretching out her hand.
Penny shook it. “I’m Penny.”
“Look Penny, I was going for a tea and, no offence intended, you look like you could do with one.”
“I need to head home. Tons of paperwork, you know.”
“Come on, paperwork can wait. A cup of Darjeeling and we’re off.”
It wasn’t like Penny to accept such offerings. She had friends. She wasn’t pathetic. She didn’t need the pity of a stranger, or her drinks.
Then again, there wasn’t pity, in the stranger’s voice. There was a sort of empathy, the desire to understand and help; no trace of contempt. And a cup of warm, soothing tea felt like a wonderful idea.
“Okay”, Penny said, “just one cup.”
[...to be continued!]
That particular stranger didn’t mind. She just pointed at the sheets and said: “It must be pretty moving paperwork. Is it?”
Penny smiled, wiping off the tears. “Thank you.”
“What’s your name?”, the stranger asked, stretching out her hand.
Penny shook it. “I’m Penny.”
“Look Penny, I was going for a tea and, no offence intended, you look like you could do with one.”
“I need to head home. Tons of paperwork, you know.”
“Come on, paperwork can wait. A cup of Darjeeling and we’re off.”
It wasn’t like Penny to accept such offerings. She had friends. She wasn’t pathetic. She didn’t need the pity of a stranger, or her drinks.
Then again, there wasn’t pity, in the stranger’s voice. There was a sort of empathy, the desire to understand and help; no trace of contempt. And a cup of warm, soothing tea felt like a wonderful idea.
“Okay”, Penny said, “just one cup.”
[...to be continued!]
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
A story of a Changin' Wind #4
“Are you hurt?”, a female voice said.
“My paperwork!”, was all of Penny’s reply.
She got up and tried to grasp as many sheets as she could. Without another word, the stranger helped her. She was a woman of Penny’s age, with a friendly face and an air of fun around her. She hurried behind the sheets as if they were her own, ignoring the rain that was soaking her lovely shirt. She followed one last especially rebellious sheet that was flying towards the road and the cars. She grabbed it a split second before a bus passed - it could have taken the sheet (and, more importantly, the stranger) with it, but the stranger didn’t seem bothered. “Done”, she said, handing the sheets of paper to Penny.
She thought Who are you, Mary Poppins?
Then she broke in to tears.
[...to be continued!]
“My paperwork!”, was all of Penny’s reply.
She got up and tried to grasp as many sheets as she could. Without another word, the stranger helped her. She was a woman of Penny’s age, with a friendly face and an air of fun around her. She hurried behind the sheets as if they were her own, ignoring the rain that was soaking her lovely shirt. She followed one last especially rebellious sheet that was flying towards the road and the cars. She grabbed it a split second before a bus passed - it could have taken the sheet (and, more importantly, the stranger) with it, but the stranger didn’t seem bothered. “Done”, she said, handing the sheets of paper to Penny.
She thought Who are you, Mary Poppins?
Then she broke in to tears.
[...to be continued!]
Previously on Changin' Wind
There are good days, there are bad days, and then there are Red Alert Days - when life finds new, exciting ways of screwing with you. When a Red Alert Day comes, all you want is to curl up in your bed and shut off from the world, but you can’t, because the world is a loud, lousy companion. Penny had had one of those days, and she deluded herself in thinking it was over.
It was a cold May day, one of those days that theoretically couldn’t exist: May should be full of sun, flowers and springy dresses. It was just six PM, but the sun had already bid goodbye, hidden behind a thick veil of clouds. A shower of rain was not-so-gently falling on Penny, and a cold wind was beating on her. She was hurrying to Angel tube station, with a bag of groceries, a bag with a laptop inside, and a big bag of paperwork she needed to complete that night. Too many bags and, on the top of it, her shoes were killing her. She would usually have changed her heeled shoes with a pair of trainers to get home, but yesterday her trainers had self-destructed after a three-years honorable service. She was stuck with the heels, and the bags, and the rain, and the wind. It was an awful finish to an awful day, or so Penny thought. Then she broke a heel.
She couldn’t tell exactly how it happened: she was walking too quickly, she made a wrong move, it just happened. While falling Penny imagined seeing herself from the outside, just like a movie: the young woman with tired eyes who stumbles and fall in slow motion, her hair high in the rain, her three bags flying in three different directions. Then woman and bags hit the ground together.
The slow motion stopped and reality took charge. Penny was on the ground, hurting, and the bag with the paperwork was broken: that damn wind was stealing the sheets of paper one by one. They were flying all around like petals of a sulky flower.
It was a cold May day, one of those days that theoretically couldn’t exist: May should be full of sun, flowers and springy dresses. It was just six PM, but the sun had already bid goodbye, hidden behind a thick veil of clouds. A shower of rain was not-so-gently falling on Penny, and a cold wind was beating on her. She was hurrying to Angel tube station, with a bag of groceries, a bag with a laptop inside, and a big bag of paperwork she needed to complete that night. Too many bags and, on the top of it, her shoes were killing her. She would usually have changed her heeled shoes with a pair of trainers to get home, but yesterday her trainers had self-destructed after a three-years honorable service. She was stuck with the heels, and the bags, and the rain, and the wind. It was an awful finish to an awful day, or so Penny thought. Then she broke a heel.
She couldn’t tell exactly how it happened: she was walking too quickly, she made a wrong move, it just happened. While falling Penny imagined seeing herself from the outside, just like a movie: the young woman with tired eyes who stumbles and fall in slow motion, her hair high in the rain, her three bags flying in three different directions. Then woman and bags hit the ground together.
The slow motion stopped and reality took charge. Penny was on the ground, hurting, and the bag with the paperwork was broken: that damn wind was stealing the sheets of paper one by one. They were flying all around like petals of a sulky flower.
Friday, 10 June 2011
A story of a Changin' Wind #3
When bad things get... worse!
She couldn’t tell exactly how it happened: she was walking too quickly, she made a wrong move, it just happened. While falling Penny imagined seeing herself from the outside, just like a movie: the young woman with tired eyes who stumbles and fall in slow motion, her hair high in the rain, her three bags flying in three different directions. Then woman and bags hit the ground together.
The slow motion stopped and reality took charge. Penny was on the ground, hurting, and the bag with the paperwork was broken: that damn wind was stealing the sheets of paper one by one. They were flying all around like petals of a sulky flower.
[... to be continued!]
She couldn’t tell exactly how it happened: she was walking too quickly, she made a wrong move, it just happened. While falling Penny imagined seeing herself from the outside, just like a movie: the young woman with tired eyes who stumbles and fall in slow motion, her hair high in the rain, her three bags flying in three different directions. Then woman and bags hit the ground together.
The slow motion stopped and reality took charge. Penny was on the ground, hurting, and the bag with the paperwork was broken: that damn wind was stealing the sheets of paper one by one. They were flying all around like petals of a sulky flower.
[... to be continued!]
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