Guardian

IV.

The bus ride to work was short and quiet. The sky was cloudy and threatening though there was no rain yet. She was nearing her stop when she saw someone sitting at the stop. Before the bus even stopped she could see it was him. She wondered had he been there the other days that she had not. She stepped down off the bus, paused a moment, then took steps towards him.

"Hello, Ian." she said.

"Hello, Krysta." he said looking up from his book. "How are you today?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Okay. How about you?" she asked looking at this mysterious young man.

"I'm okay. I wanted to tell you that I heard about your mother, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, thanks. Me too."

"I hope you don't mind but I went to her service. I know I didn't know her but well I did know you."

"You were there? I didn't see you. Why didn't you come and speak to me?" she asked.

"Didn't want to intrude on your grief at that moment." He dropped his book and fumbled nervously to pick it up. "I wasn't sure I belonged there." he answered, avoiding eye contact at the moment.

She felt his uneasiness, or shyness she wasn't sure which. She understood both feelings though since she suffered from them herself.

"Well, I'm glad you wanted to be there. You were of course welcome." she said and was glad to see him smile again.

The conversation took an awkward pause. She had to go anyway and explained that she had to go to work. She didn't want to go but that was her secret.

"Me too," he said and stood up.

"Well, I'll see you." she said and turned and walked towards the shop. She wanted so badly to turn back and look to see if he was still there but wouldn't until she got into the shop and looked out of the front window. He was gone. He confused her so but it was more than that, it was the fact that he looked like or was the young man in her dream. That was they mystery that baffled, haunted her. There had to be an explanation for it, she just hadn't fingered it out yet. All she knew was she was attracted to this guy and it felt sort of good but at the same time if felt uncomfortable. From past experience she didn't feel comfortable getting involved and she avoided it.

Several times throughout the day she look out the window to see if he might be there but all she saw was the rain. She reminded herself she wanted to take some gardenias home for her vase. They had finally wilted and died, as she knew they would.

She finished her day and with gardenias in hand caught the bus home. The rain had left up some, it was just a light drizzle now.

Once home and a light turned on, she stopped to put the gardenias in the vase. Then she changed out of her damp clothes, starting to feel a chill. Every light she passed she turned on and of course the television. She opened a can of chicken noodle soup for dinner and put it in a pan on low to heat.

While she waited for the soup to heat, she took some pictures from one of the boxes in the closet and placed them here and there on the walls. She also pulled out her mom's recipe box. She put the empty box back in the closet, and took the recipe box to the kitchen. Another box emptied. She sat the recipe box on the kitchen counter next to the microwave. Maybe it was time to work on her cooking skills. She'd think about it.

With soup in hand, she went to the living room and sat down on the couch near her evening companion, the television. The soup was warm, made her feel warmer. The voices on the t.v. filled the room. She wasn't sure what was on, it didn't matter as long as it was on. She finished her soup and cleaned up her mess then returned to the living room.