Not Alone Here

A broad-shouldered man with a grey hat was visible from across the street. Neither his coat nor his shoes were wet, even though it had been pouring rain for the past half hour. One of the carefully shaped acacia trees along the main street was sheltering him, and Brenda was wondering for how much longer his coat would stay dry. She noticed him seconds after she ordered her standard at Billie's, a matcha latte with oat milk, and sat down next to the window of her favourite bistro, unusually crowded for an early afternoon owing to the sudden outburst of heavy rain.

Noticing people and thinking about their stories was a favourite pastime for Brenda. Ever since she started to practise it instead of checking her phone in idle moments, she started noticing how her mind was changing. It reminded her of a very similar feeling she felt when running regularly; a growth in stamina. The brain has its own stamina, she understood. When she gave it phone scrolling, it became dull; when she gave it more constructive tasks, it became fitter and clearer. Her students noticed it too. It became a given that Assistant Professor Sterling possessed a sharp mind along with her kind temper, always in the mood for a friendly exchange of ideas.

Thus far she had come with the story of the broad-shouldered man. He was upset. Something important was happening to him, and the peak of development was happening right in those moments. Out of all the possibilities she could think of, waiting for a phone call or deciding to make one in the phone booth near him were the top two she selected. The result of that conversation would shape that man's life; that was what his facial expressions were telling her. Episodes of deep mental and emotional effort were interrupted only by occasional glances in random directions. Most of them were showing that he was not present to the outside. Suddenly, she was certain that one of those glances was different. He looked across the street at the green sign that said "Billie's" and, half a second later, lowered his gaze and looked her directly in the eyes. She was a bit surprised but didn't look away. She got that occasionally during her people noticing sessions. In the beginning she would always look away, not wanting to intrude. As she got used to surprised stares, she discovered she could gain much more from the experience. Brenda's look was neither intrusive nor insulting. She was a warm person and her eyes gave that away, so that every time, the other person would somehow soften and melt as a result of her gaze. Although she wasn't consciously trying to calm them down, she was directly talking to their hearts, reflecting their feelings, and providing soothing comfort. This was Brenda's way of making a difference in the world. A short, gentle look to another human soul, making a connection that said "you are not alone here." Same was happening this time. The man's eyes showed some peace, even if for few short seconds. Much could be read from those eyes. There was a thank you there, a silent appreciation for the fact that she had noticed him. A short letting go, taking a conscious breath that helped him stay in the moment and be stress-free as he gathered strength for what was coming. So much was exchanged between them in those few seconds that, just like every other time, not much can be transcribed to words.

Even though one of the reasons her students loved her was her warm ability to explain difficult concepts in simple words, she was always eager to raise their awareness that the greater part simply could not be put into words, and that they would be losing great value if they ignored it. "Check the heart too", she would tell them, "if you practise it regularly, it will cooperate effortlessly with your brilliant minds. And the great thing is, it works when you're thinking, reading, observing, or listening; it is always at your disposal if you nurture the communication pathways to it."

The man's look was turned away towards a sudden splash of water on the pedestrian crossing nearby. Brenda frowned. She had seen the same thing happening multiple times in the past weeks. Two 20-foot containers belonging to the construction site near "Billie's" were partly blocking the street, and were in an awkward position just before the pedestrian crossing. They reduced visibility when crossing the street going north; one couldn't see approaching cars. This afternoon, it was even worse because of the rain puddle that made pedestrians wet if they were crossing when a car was driving there.

The splashing sound of water turned the man back into his reality. He checked his wristwatch and then the phone booth. He then opened a small notebook and reached inside of his coat, as if wanting to take out a pen and write something. He then stopped, with his hand still in his coat pocket, and looked at the phone booth again. Brenda couldn't hear, but knew that the phone was ringing there. In a few short strides to escape the rain, he was in the booth, taking the phone off the hook. His shoulders blocked Brenda's view, but she could tell he was very tense. Tension was showing in his slightly raised shoulders and the position of his head, which was tilted a bit forward. She looked away to give him some privacy, and continued to drink her matcha latte.

Sometimes she would think about how little is enough to make a little difference. Giving some of our time to other people to show them that we care. We care for perfect strangers and their lives. When we pass them by on the street, we show them by giving a short, free look into their eyes. Often that's all they need. To see they are not alone in the world, and people care about them. She felt more connected that way. It didn't cost her anything, she was actually gaining.

Shortly after, Brenda let her gaze find the man again. He was just exiting the phone booth, looking much more nervous than before, shaken up from the call. He looked around in distress. His eyes fell on the Billie's sign again. A spark lit. Brenda looked left and stood up. Her chair fell down. People around her looked at her. She ignored them and rushed to the door. The man was walking towards the pedestrian crossing. Brenda opened the door and started running to him. The street was between them. She was keeping him in sight while checking the blue lorry approaching from the left. There was no time to cross the street. The rain was falling heavily, deafening everything else. Already at the curve she raised her arms in the air and yelled "STOP!". He stumbled. Huge, sudden gush of water splashed two people on different sides of the road. Before being blinded by it, she caught a glimpse of surprise on the truck driver's face. The truck disappeared into the night. Just the two of them were left standing there. Brenda was the first to come to her senses again, and she crossed the street towards him. He was still standing there, looking at her without a word, water dripping from his face and clothes. "Come", she said, "we need to dry you up, that was close." She took his hand and started leading him towards the bistro. He gave in. It took a few seconds before he came back again. Before entering he stopped and pulled her hand gently. "Have we ever met before?" he asked. "I.." she looked him in the eyes and saw a gentle smile on his face, the first one today. "...guess you can say that."