The nurse silenced the solid tone of the heart monitor while I scanned his peaceful face. The realization that my father was gone washed over me in waves. My insides wrenched, and my arms and legs felt foreign, as if they no longer belonged to me. I nodded and smiled, ignoring the tears that spil ed over my cheeks. He trusted my words, and so he let go.
Thomas touched my shoulder and moved to the head of the bed. He reached over to place his hands over my father’s eyes and whispered something beautiful in Hebrew. I leaned over my father’s chest and hugged him. For the first time in my life, he didn’t hug me back.
Looking down to my hands, I scanned the obituary from the funeral. Separated by a dash, the dates of my father’s birth and death were displayed in elegant font on the front cover. I grimaced with the recognition that such a short line of ink was meant to signify his life.
The paper fit snugly in the inside pocket of my coat just as the wet sloshing of bus tires approached, slowing to a stop in front of me.
The door opened, but I didn’t look up. The sounds of commuters stepping out onto the sidewalk never came. My neighbors had little need for public transportation, specifical y so late in the evening. Those that used it at al were the hired service that worked in the colossal residences nearby.
“Miss?”
The bus driver cleared his throat to get my attention, and when I failed to acknowledge him, the door swept shut. The air breaks released, and the bus slowly pul ed away from the curb. I tried not to think about the day that had just taken place, but my memory became saturated with it.
Just as I did in childhood, I rocked back and forth to comfort myself. The warm peach hue had long since left my fingers, reminding me of my father’s folded hands as he lay in his coffin.
A frigid breath of air flooded my lungs and my chest heaved, giving way to the sob that had been clawing its way to the surface. I had thought moments before that my eyes couldn’t cry anymore, and I wondered how much more I would have to endure before my body would final y be too exhausted to continue.
“Cold night, huh?”
I sniffed and shot an annoyed glance to the man settling into the space next to me. I hadn’t heard him approach. He breathed on his hands, rubbed them together and then offered a reassuring grin.
“I guess,” I answered.
He looked down at his watch and sighed. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Guess we missed the last bus.”
He pul ed a cel phone from the pocket of his black motorcycle jacket and dialed. He greeted someone and then requested a taxi.
“Did you want to share a cab?” he asked.
I peered over at him, immediately suspicious. His blue-grey eyes narrowed as he raised one eyebrow at my expression. I must have looked like a maniac, and he was reconsidering his offer.
I folded my arms, suddenly feeling the discomfort of winter breaking through my coat, seeping into my skin, piercing through to my bones. I had to get back to school; I stil had a paper to write.
“Yes. Thank you,” I said with a shaky voice.
After an awkward moment of silence, the man spoke again. “You work around here?”
“No.” I hesitated to continue the conversation but found myself curious. “You?”
“Yes.”
How odd. He didn’t look like hired help. I glanced at his watch out of the corner of my eye. Definitely not help.
“What do you do?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I’m…involved in the home security sector,” he nodded, seeming to agree with himself.
“I’m a student,” I offered, trying to clear the ridiculous quivering in my voice.
He stared at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher, and then looked forward again. He was older than I, though not by more than five or six years. I wondered if he knew who I was. There was a glimmer of familiarity in his eyes, though I couldn’t quite place it.
His cel phone vibrated, and he opened it to read a text message. He attempted to hide an emotion and then snapped the phone closed without replying, and didn’t speak again until the cab arrived.
He opened the door for me, and I scooted over to the farthest end of the seat while he slid in behind the driver.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked in a throaty voice.
“Brown University,” I instructed. “Please.”
“Uh-Huh. One stop?”
“No,” my unanticipated companion said.
I noted that he was careful not to mention his address, and that struck me as odd. Maybe it wasn’t odd at al ; maybe I was more curious about him than I would have liked to admit. I was surprised that I had noticed anything at the moment, and found myself grateful to this stranger for the diversion he’d inadvertently created for me.
“I’m Jared by the way,” he grinned, holding his hand out to take mine.
“Nina.”
“Wow, your hands are freezing!” he said, clasping his other hand over mine.
I pul ed my hand away, noting his exceptional y warm grip. I watched him for a moment, listening to any inner voices that might have sensed danger, but the only feeling that stood out was curiosity.
After the realization of his offense, he apologized with a smal smile. I tucked my hair behind my ears and stared out the window. The wind whipped around outside, blowing the col ecting flakes across the road like white snakes slithering ahead. I shivered at the image and pul ed my coat tighter around me.
“Brown, huh?” Jared asked. His cel phone vibrated in his pocket and he flipped it open once again.