An Everyday Love Story
I loosened the tie around my neck; sauntering through the park at my leisure. The grass felt lush and soft beneath my shoes and the wind danced through the atmosphere to a gentle rhythm. The sun smiled down as the pearly-white clouds dotted the heavens. It was a perfect day; a perfect end to my hectic schedule on a Friday. That’s why I always came here in the afternoons – to relax, to enjoy, to be free again. I wasn’t worried about meetings, work or any financial matters – that could wait until Monday.
I sat down on a bench and pulled out my sketchbook and pencil. It was one of the few pleasures I enjoyed in life. To draw. Anything and anyone. I loved it how there were rules with art. Self-expression and not perfection; my mother would say. Business was all about perfection. I set my eyes on a huge oak tree; its branches were shrouded with bundles of emerald leaves that stretched towards the skies. I flipped over to a new page and my pencil scratched against the matt surface as I sketched out the tree. Hues of charcoal, ebony and grey adorned the page as I worked my way through.
It was then I saw her.
A huddled lifeform beneath the leaves like a foetus curled up in a womb. I could tell it was a woman with the outline of her slender figure. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her arms were folded across the top of her knees and her head was pressed down on her arms. Her face was completely hidden. I didn’t really think much of it, to be honest. I guess, she was tired. Looking closely, I saw her body shake slightly as if she was crying. I looked all around and everyone was wrapped up in their own lives like she was completely invisible to them.
I didn’t really know which option to go with. Ignore her and carry on drawing or muster the courage to go and ask her if she was ok. Then again, my conscience reiterated on how can I draw the beauty of the world if I didn’t deal with the sad part of it?
I sighed internally. Ok, conscience wins. I placed my notebook away in my pocket and slowly but steadily, made my way over to her. As I got closer, I could hear gentle sobs and felt a pang of concern for her.
I didn’t know how to start the conversation so I cleared my throat and said, ‘Are you ok?’ There was a slight movement of her head as her eyes peeked at me between the top of her head and the linked arms. She moved and blinked once again so I repeated, ‘Are you ok?’
She quickly wiped her eyes but I could see the long, silvery trail of dried tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were red and whirlpools of a gentle, soft brown seemed to be staring back at me. ‘I’m fine,” she mumbled.
I didn’t believe her. Obviously. ‘You don’t look ok’.
‘I’m fine,” she repeated louder, clearly frustrated.
“Is there anyone you’d to contact? So they can come and get you. Family or friends’.
‘I don’t have anyone’.
I felt sorry for her – there was a huge part of me that didn’t want to leave her. She did look vulnerable and this was a big, nasty world.
‘I can help you…?’ I said hesitantly, not knowing she will react.
She stood up and folded her arms across her chest. ‘I appreciate that but I’ll be ok’.
She walked away with her back turned to me. I noticed that the back of her tights on her legs were ripped and she walked with a limp. I frowned – that didn’t look good.
I had now two choices – walk away and let her carry on or follow her and maybe take her to a hospital. I already knew my decision.
Written by Aneka Chohan
Aneka works as a English teacher and as a freelance journalist based in West London. When she isn't writing or teaching, Aneka likes to pursue interests in arts, fashion, learning new languages, photography, and writing fictional stories and poetry.
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