Your Name

We met in December when soft snow was falling from the sky, covering the grey pavement with a layer of white fluff, and the colourful lights illuminated the streets during the cold winter nights. It was so peaceful and beautiful, perfect weather for the upcoming Christmas, you could say.

At least, this was what the endless commercials and movies I saw during this time of the year tried to tell me. But the reality was very different, at least for me, and I guess I wasn’t alone with these feelings, I could see them in the eyes of the people as I took the train to work every day. It was a long journey, and I spent my time watching the commuters pass through those metal doors with big, shiny windows every time the train stopped at the station. I suppose I spent more time watching them walk by than I would have liked to, but to be honest, what else should I do while travelling with a bunch of strangers in a small, fast-moving metal box on my way to work?

Some people were like me, knowing the truth from an early age, having learnt it the hard way when they were too young to even understand that it could be any different. While others learned it a bit later when the charm of snow and gifts melted and went away with the winter as they grew older. It didn’t really matter. Except for the lucky few, Christmas was a time that brought tears.

You were sitting at the bus stop, covered in a thick layer of snow, shivering from the cold. You looked so small and fragile, yet none of the passers-by ever noticed you, busy with their shopping plans and family reunions and on their way home they didn’t pay any attention to your reddened, cold cheeks. And the other commuters, waiting for the last bus which had been delayed by a heavy snowfall that caught everyone by surprise, admired the colorful flickering lights that hung above our heads, discussing their plans for the New Year. No one noticed you. No one except me.

I stood there for a long time watching the fresh snow fall on the hood of your jacket as I waited for my bus, getting cold and impatient. It was a habit, or maybe just a reaction that I had learnt to copy from other people, I didn’t really know. I didn’t have any reason to hurry, no one ever waited for me to come back, except my cat who wanted to be fed. It was a fair deal, I thought. I fed him, and he waited impatiently behind the closed doors, giving me a reason to call my tiny apartment a home.

I watched you for a long time, knowing it was a mistake, but something inside of me didn’t want to turn my head away or look down, like most people would do in this situation, pretending, if they were caught, that it was just a coincidence without any deeper meaning.

Yet I stood there looking at you, not really knowing why, as you kicked off the snow that had started to cover your boots, and adjusted the small backpack that rested between your feet.

Or maybe I did know why, but admitting the real reason for my gaze would have too big consequences, even if I just admitted it to myself.

I hesitated, fighting against my survival instinct that told me to look away, even though I knew it was safer to follow its advice. It always wanted my best, protecting me from any hurt the outside world could bring upon me, and over the years I had learned to trust it more and more. But this time was different, and even when its voice became louder and louder in my anxious mind, I couldn’t turn away and pretend that you didn’t exist.

This hesitation cost me everything I had, but it also brought you into my life, and I didn’t regret it.

But at that moment, I was terrified as your soft, brown eyes looked into mine, showing anyone who would be bothered to look into them a deep sadness, loneliness, and tears that hadn’t been allowed to flow for a very long time.

I knew, of course, that what I would see in them was not any different from mine, and this was the reason for my fear and hesitation.

Your eyes were like a mirror that I swore to never look into, knowing that my heart would use every opportunity to look into it nevertheless, even if it would be against my will.

I had never lost so badly to this strange urge before, and I had believed I could resist it forever, regardless of the price I needed to pay for it, as the alternative was way worse. I knew that even a quick glance would shatter my shield to pieces, leaving me to deal with all those feelings that I pretended not to feel. But this time I lost when I sat down next to you on the cold bench, followed by your curious gaze.

“It will get even colder,” I told you quietly, and a part of me hoped it would be enough to make you disappear from my life without leaving too much guilt behind to linger in my heart during the long winter months. But you just nodded and added quietly, “I know”.

You were even more lost than I thought, it was probably your first night on your own. Even if I wished I could forget, I knew exactly how you felt sitting on the cold bench with nowhere to go.

“You can sleep at the airport, you know,” I said quietly, my voice harshened by the cold weather. “It is warm and no one will ask you why are you there…”

You slowly nodded, but your soft brown eyes still kept looking at me.

“I can give you change for a bus”, I said, trying hard to get rid of the guilt that started to grow in my chest. I froze when, instead of accepting it, you asked me for my name…

We shared the bed that night even if none of us was ready for it, since I didn't have a sofa or anything like that, in my tiny apartment, and making you sleep on the floor just didn’t feel right, even if I could make some space for you between the cardboard boxes that served as cupboards and wardrobe.

You fell asleep with your body pressed into mine, in a single bed that felt so spacious when I shared it with my cat, but now felt crowded and cozy at the same time, and I didn't mind your cold feet keeping me awake through the night as you snuggled yourself into me more and more, trying to get warm after wandering aimlessly through the crowded streets. Or at least this is what I thought back then. With time, I learned that your feet always stayed cold, even during the summer months, and none of my efforts to make them warm ever worked, but you never minded my failed attempts and waited patiently every evening to try again after I fed our cat.

You also liked to wear my clothes, even if they were too big and hung on you loosely, making you look even more like my younger sister.

In the beginning, you wore them out of necessity as you hadn’t taken many things with you in your small backpack when you ran away, but even when we could afford to buy you new clothes, you preferred to wear mine.

I never really understood why, I just accepted it as I accepted that our cat always slept on the kitchen table and whenever I bought myself any clothes, I got some for you.

You also had a keen sense of smell. As soon as you could, you replaced all my soaps and shampoos that I had randomly picked from the store shelf, caring only for the price, with those that smelled like a flowery meadow on a warm summer day, making our scents melt into each other when we lay in bed listening to the snowstorm that raged outside…