The Sun Doesn't Know How Not To Shine

A hissing sound from the chimney woke me up.

It seemed like the gentle sway of the train had sent me to sleep. Green scenery flashed outside the window as my eyes slowly grew accustomed to the surrounding. An attractive lady with a smile on her face was pushing a trolley filled with snacks then stopped beside me, who, also with a smile on my face, shook my head before she has the chance to say anything. The smile on her face vanished instantly as she moved towards the seat in front of mine. I glanced outside. The short shadows under the trees were telling that it was already noon, and I needed to get lunch.

I grabbed my handbag and stood up—so quick that my eyes were spinning and everything looked distorted for a second. Ugh, I hate this condition of mine, it made me have to be sheltered all the time—I’ve lost consciousness more times in my life than experiencing swimming at the beach or playing at the park under the sunshine—you know, like most people. But what can I do? I was born this way and the sun might as well hate me. As I wondered whether there is a place in the world where the sun doesn’t shine, I moved to the dining car.

I was actually starving, but not in a million years will I buy my lunch from the trolley Lady—doesn’t matter how attractive she is—and eat it on my seat. I like to enjoy my lunch at the place where I’m supposed to eat.

The dining car was almost empty when I got there, except a very old woman whose right hand was shaking when she scooped out her porridge. I looked away and chose a table at the corner. If possible, I always prefer to sit in the corner, since it allows me to see everybody who comes and everything that happens. Sometimes I intentionally go into a public space by myself and sit in the corner by the window just to observe people. I like being in the corner so much that I think even when I die, I would want to be buried in the corner of the graveyard.

A waiter over-casually gave me a menu without a word. Well, I’m used to poor services in trains, so I didn’t expect even a smile.

“Coffee and sandwich.” I ordered without looking at the menu. The waiter nodded with obvious zero interest and went immediately.

I shifted my vision to the window, then I realized how dry my eyes felt. Oh, right, I’m wearing contact lenses. I forgot since when and why I wear it. As far as I could remember, I hated it. But I wear it anyway. I took a bottle of eye drops and dropped some into my eyes. Ah, how fresh. Then, I took out a pack of cigarettes, lighted one, and smoked—deeply inhaled every single trace of those poisons into my lungs. Ah, even fresher.

“Excuse me, may I sit here?”

A guy just approached me. I wouldn’t define his face as handsome, but his dark iris was very attractive. A feeling of intense longing suddenly hit me out of nowhere, like a tsunami. I was caught in a swirling vortex of emotions as this man’s eyes sucked my consciousness and brought me to another dimension with a warm and exciting sensation which, strangely enough, felt extremely familiar.

As if I’ve met him before.

 

“Excuse me, may I sit here?”

I turned and found a man—whose face I wouldn’t define as handsome—talked to me. Well, I guess it was fine since I was alone. “Please.” I answered uneagerly but still threw him a casual sweet smile.

“Thank you.” He said as he sat in front of me. A bored waiter gave him a menu without saying a word. I noticed him grinning, which I found intriguing.

“What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help asking once he ordered and the bored waiter went off.

“Nothing,” he answered, seemed amused, “the service in this train always sucks.”

I didn’t respond, neither did I ask which part of it was amusing for him. His lips still formed a wide grin, his eyes narrowed—the skin around the corners crinkled, a pair of shy dimples appeared on his cheeks. I unconsciously kept staring at him. I swear to you that he isn’t handsome, but I couldn’t help adoring his sympathetic dark eyes. They looked friendly, as if he always smiles and made the smiling eyes his default eyes. If I were to only see his eyes, I could’ve only imagined his smiling face.   

All of a sudden, he caught my stare and stopped grinning—not the eyes, though. We then silently stared at each other for a while.

“You didn’t look away.” he said, “Normally, you would look away in an instant once the person you were staring at is looking back at you.”

“I don’t feel like doing it.” I replied, “We don’t know each other, anyway.”

The lovely grin surfaced once again. The bored waiter spectacularly ruined the moment by noisily placing my order in front of me.

I finally looked away from him and sipped my hot coffee. The steam stormed into my glasses straight away, blurred my vision of everything except for the stupid lenses that misted up every time I sip a hot drink. I took off my glasses and reached for a tissue to clean it up.

“You know what,” he said, apparently he hadn’t quit from our staring contest earlier, “you look a lot prettier without glasses.”

“You look a lot prettier without glasses.”

I blinked a couple of times. His face was a few centimeters above my face, looking blurred. I pushed him away and forced myself to sit. I took my glasses from the nightstand. “But I can’t see without them.”

He sat on the side of the bed, looking amused. As usual, the skin around the corner of his eyes crinkled as they narrowed. As usual, it mesmerized me. “Are you living in the stone age!?”

“I told you I don’t like wearing contact lenses!” I grumbled while got up slowly to anticipate my anemia. “Must wash your hands, must wash the lenses everytime, can’t wear them for too long, can’t just put them on and take them off on a whim! Too many rules, too troublesome!”

“But you’ll look a lot prettier.” He repeated, the smile was still on.

I gave him a cranky snort. I really hate that attitude of his, as if he knew everything more than me, as if everything he says won’t be denied by me. On top of all, I hate it because most of the time, I know that he’s right and I just don’t want to admit.

He laughed at my crumpled face, then moved to open the window, allowing in a morning cool breeze that made me want to hide under my blanket again. But the sun who was hesitantly showing itself made me want to take a walk outside.

I heard the sound of a friction between the head of matchstick and the side of matchbox. 

“Hey, that’s mine!” I complained.

“Oh, come on,” he sighed nonchalantly. The smoke slipped out of his mouth as he was talking. “I ran out.”

Still grumbling, I snatched my cigarette pack from his hand. Only one left. Oh, well. I lit it up with the dim flame on the tip of his, then we stood side by side facing the window, smoked the same cigarette brand, watched the landscape of the town from my room, half lost in a daydream.

“You may keep wearing your glasses,” suddenly he said, unusually had a serious look on his face. “but, please, stop smoking.”

 

“Stop smoking.”

Gently, he pulled the cigarette from my fingers. I was barely smoking it, so I tried to keep it.

“You’re also smoking. Why can’t I?” I protested.

He sighed, “Not good for your health.”

“Yeah? Say that to yourself!”

He sighed again, looked sad. “Why are you being so difficult?”

I always feel sorry once I said something that makes him sad. I hate myself for letting him made such an expression. The light in my favorite eyes got dimmer, and I didn’t like it. 

I shifted to his side and leaned my head on his shoulder. After a while, he leaned his head over my head, and then we stayed like that in silence.

Salty breeze was continuously caressing my face, the sands that it brought sprinkled all over the surface of my glasses. Waves were lapping with each other and crushing the sands, sounded ferocious yet attractive at the same time. The sky was clear blue and cloudless, letting the sun shine mercilessly on any naked surfaces. It was brutally bright and hot, but we rented a beach parasol so that I can enjoy relaxing at the beach without fainting. Of course, we came here on his request, but I wonder if he realized that I barely enjoyed it as much as he did.

“I have a good idea.” He suggested when my attention was occupied with the children who were making sand castles, cheerfully laughing and screaming, their skin bared and their head unprotected. I couldn’t decide if I envied them or annoyed by them.

“What?” I asked.

“I’ll stop smoking, and so will you.”

“Hmm...” I replied, uninterested. We went silent for another more minutes. He started to play with my hair, which felt sticky due to the salty air.

“I have an even better idea." I suggested after a moment.

“What?”

“I’ll wear contact lenses, and we’ll both keep smoking.”

His hand which was playing with my hair moved slower, he was probably thinking of a response. Then, he laughed, and my favorite eyes came back.

“You, sneaky woman.” He finally replied. Then, after a moment of silent, “but, yeah, let’s do that.”

I smiled and closed my eyes. The children’s laughters, the ferocious yet attractive sounds of waves, the calming whisper of the sea breeze, the rustling sands around me, the shade of the parasol upon us, and his rhythmic deep breath next to my ears, I sensed all of those and tried to contain them inside me, but I was overwhelmed.

There are things that I used to hate. But I guess since even the sun doesn’t know how not to shine, I compromised.

“Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

I gasped. A man stood in front of me. Not handsome, but amazing eyes.

“I’m sorry, I was just asking if I can sit here, and suddenly you looked like your mind went somewhere else.”

I adjusted my breathing. The bored waiter put a plate of unappealing sandwich and a cup of coffee, then left without saying a word.

“I’m so sorry!” I said once pulled my self together, “I think I just had a déjà vu. I really feel like I’ve met you—no, like I’ve really known you well before.”

For some reason, he looked very happy. He laughed—if laughter was a cookie, his was sweet and crispy. The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Could be, in the previous life.”

I couldn’t help but laughing with him.

“So,” he said once again, lips were still smiling, “may I sit here?”

A great wave of warmth invaded every particle of my body, it filled all of the empty spaces and repaired the broken parts. The air around me got lighter and the boring dining car was—well, it was still boring. There’s nothing you can do about it.

I put my cigarette out. “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you.”

I sat down, I have been on this stage for so many times but still, I felt the sense of relieve. I could still find her. It was still her.

I know that time has always been playing on me. I have gone through sequences and phases, chasing her. I had decided to play along, where at some points reached a game over and I had to start over and over again. This time for sure, I will stay longer and if I am lucky enough, the time might even let me go until finish. But I am not giving up. I know that she would be on this train, on this day, during this time. She would order a cup of coffee and a dish—the dish is always changing. I would say hello and ask if she would let me sit with her. Of course, she will say ok. Her life is so boring. She wants to get out of her own life.

“You’re wearing contact lenses.” were the words that slipped out of my mouth once I realized the empty spaces around her eyes where her brown-framed glasses supposed to be.

She looked surprized, “Pardon?”

“No, nothing.” I answered as quick as she finished her question, and gave her the best smile I could have done. Inside, my heart exploded with the utmost delight.

I finally left a trail. I got her to do it.

I don’t know what will be in the quest this time, or if I will still be in the same stage once the sun rises tomorrow, but I will go after her, as many times as it takes.

As if agreeing to my determination, the chimney hissed, the train gently shook.

(fin)