A Place for the Night

A wintry wind blows from the north, whisks the end of the dress and flaps it against the two thin legs, impeding her steps as it does. The half fallen scarf exposes scruffy hair and a few lines of sweat on her face; her arms are holding a weeping baby from the waist while the rest of his body is drooping. Below the yellow roof of the bus stop, two girls are sitting close to each other and whispering.

 

 'Excuse me,' she says when she reaches them, 'I need your help,' she says, trying to put the scarf back on her head, 'have you seen…' she stops in the middle of the sentence because the two girls, after inspecting her from head to toe, have risen and left in a hurry. She looks round and sees an old man struggling his way up a narrow path toward the bus stop. She calls 'Father!' but the old man continues his walk, bowed on his stick. She calls again, louder this time 'father!', but the old man continues walking in the same pace. She runs and stands before him; he stops and totters, taken aback by her advent. 'Father, help me please! They are after me!' The old man looks at her, his eyes fixed on her lips. She says, 'Do you hear me father? Help me please! Find me somewhere to hide, only for one night.' The old man turns around and starts to toddle down the same path he has come from.

 

A policeman in a uniform now comes up to her. 'You want something, woman?'

'Something? No, No, sir.'

'Is there anything you want from the old man?'

'Yes, yes, the old man… no, nothing sir.'

'You know him?'

'No sir, I wanted to know what time it is, but he turned out to be deaf,' and she laughs, then she stops short as if she has choked on her laugh. She inspects his large brown face, the bushy eyebrows that blot out his eyes, the stars on his shoulders, then her eyes drop to the ground rapidly.

 

'There's a clock up there,' with his left arm, he points a big clock in the midde a nearby crossroads, 'you could see it from a mile's distance if you were myopic and aged one hundred and ten!'

'Bless you sir, I'm not myopic,' she says forcing a smile, 'I can see it very well, but I can't understand what it says,' Then the smile brightens, 'What does it say, sir?' The man says nothing, his jaws start chewing on something inside his mouth and he walks away.

 

She goes back to the bus stop where nobody waits and sits on a bench. . The baby starts to suck his sleeves. The traffic lights turn red and the cars stop; now, she can see the shimmering clean surface of the road and the opposite pavement overlooking the lake, which was sending a golden reflection under the setting sun. She sees a woman walking with an umbrella folded in one arm and loads of plastic bags in the other. She yells, 'Sister, sister, can you hear me?' The woman becomes aware of the sound, starts to turn around but fails to see where it comes from. She yells again, 'Hey sister, I'm here…' but the woman carries on her walk with quicker steps. She presses the baby to her breasts and she ran across the dual carriageway; halfway and before she reaches the opposite pavement, the lights go green and the cars dart forward in both directions. She stops and stands looking at the two lines of engines which has started to move in opposite ways, till the horn blows drive her to run back.

 

She stands on the pavement, her legs wobbly below the fluttering dress. From a car window, an arm comes out and protrudes a middle finger in the air; from somewhere the wind carries an obscene word. The baby's wails go wild, and the wind goes wild. She turns back and she sees a man sitting in the bus stop, less than a metre from her; she has not seen him before. He is wearing a black raincoat; his head is bowed and covered with his raincoat's cap.

 

'Sir,' she starts, 'sir, can you help me?' He doesn't raise his head, but he does not walk away, and she is emboldened to proceed. 'They are after me, sir, please, hide me somewhere, for only one night.' The man remains taciturn. 'Sir, if they can't get at me, they will find the baby,' but she gets no answer. She goes on, 'Look, look how he is afraid; it's nearly six,' and she points out the clock, 'It'll get dark, then they will find me too soon.' The man raises his head, from under the bushy eyebrows the small eyes meet hers, the big brown face beams in victory; on his shoulder, from below his raincoat, a sparkle blinks at her, and she knows what it is. She shrieks.

 

The baby still pressed to her breasts, she bounces to the road with one leap, and a big leap it is. Between the passing cars, the opposite pavement looms in flashes before her eyes and the golden surface of the lake glistens below the setting sun, and it is all that her eyes can see. The baby's still crying, and it is all she can hear, though the horn blows have reached a shrill pitch.

Reviews

[Orlando Murcia]

Very strong story you have here
I am not much of a story reader
but I thought this was great.

Keep writing
it was nicely done

Orlando M