Nine

Four Months Prior

I was on a bus en-route to my university that morning. Usually, I used my car to go to the university, but I opted to use a public transport that day because…it just happened to me that I needed a different routine than usual. It had been a while since I used my bus card too, and I took note that I had to make use of my bus fares soon because the fares have already neared their expiry date.

It was Tuesday, and I was thankful that my class that day began at 11 AM. Imagine having a class much earlier than that and having to go through a morning rush with other commuters—middle and high school students, office employees, to name a few—in a crowded bus. Conquering a seat was already out of the question; you just had to squeeze yourself into an already packed bus to catch a commute. It was definitely not my cup of tea.

The bus that I rode that day was relatively vacant, with a few empty seats and standing spots. I grabbed the chance to take a window seat at the very back of the bus. Instinctively, I looked out the window and absentmindedly let my eyes wander at the concrete jungle of buildings, and nicely tended gardens of the city, taking in the wonders of this city I have grown up in. It was getting warmer that day and it was indicative from the weather too. It was nice: the sky was wonderfully blue, the clouds adorning the flawless sky were purely white, and the baby flowers in the gardens shyly peeking out to show their blooms. They dropped hints of spring, showing that the vibrant season was just around the corner.

Spring, huh? I monologued.

I wished the vibrant season could lend me a positive impact too.

That day, I had given myself a challenge not to touch my phone, at least within the first hour after I got out from my house. It had only been less than fifteen minutes since I left my house. Because I knew that once I touched the said device, I would not be able to stop what I had been doing the past few days. Somehow it occurred to me that I needed to make some changes. The change of routine from using a car to using a public transport was one of them. I also wore less black that day. If the previous days had me donning black outfits from head to toe, I had tried changing it by wearing white pair of sneakers and a beige cardigan.

But my body seemed to refuse accepting such changes of routine. My foot had been silently tapping on the bus floor anxiously, and my teeth could not stop biting my lips that it started make my lips feel sore.

I glanced at my watch. It had only been 20 minutes, which meant 40 minutes left until I could touch my phone. Argh. Glancing at my watch again, I mumbled to myself, ‘Screw it! I already made a few big changes today, haven’t I? I already did a good job.’

I finally gave into the temptation. Biting my lips nervously, I took out my phone from my cardigan pocket. As if systematically and automatically, my thumb searched the Lime app, logged into it, and scrolled past a few conversations that I left unread. My thumb clicked on a certain name.

‘Aeri’.

In the conversation, I had sent a long string of texts to her, but they remained unseen. I scrolled up our conversation. The last text from her was from four months ago. It was her telling me to meet up at a park. The day she asked for the breakup.

My texts that ensued hers consisted of asking ‘why’s. Why, Aeri? Why the sudden turn of events?

I must say It was almost maniac that I switched from such why’s to me sending normal texts to her: telling her how my days went hectic with university practicals and tests being placed back-to-back for the whole weekdays; how this one lecturer kept picking on me; how Mum always pestered me with finding a good part-time job instead of lazing around during weekends. I occasionally sent Aeri some pictures as well, with captions asking her if she remembered the bits and pieces of events that we both went through when we were dating.

It was ironic. I know. I was aware of that.

What’s more ironic was that this long string of texts remained unseen.

I looked at the tick figures at the right bottom corner of each text bubble. They were only single ticks.

In fact, just the previous night, I received a notification that Aeri’s phone number was no longer in service.

I let out a deep sigh to myself. ‘Aeri-yah’, I whispered, ‘I still cannot help but wonder what I did wrong.’

My body swayed with the movement of the bus, with my eyes now trained on the blurry images of the surroundings outside the window. My mind resumed wandering aimlessly.

I barely registered it when the bus slowed down to a halt at a bus stop, and a lone feminine figure was seen boarding the public transport.

I didn’t know why, and I definitely didn't know how to explain it, but it was as if I was awestruck by this lady.

I couldn’t let my eyes off her.

After tapping her bus card onto the fare checker, she proceeded to look for an empty seat. She chose the aisle seat a bit near to the middle exit door. Upon making herself comfortable in her seat, she placed her huge tote bag on the vacant window seat beside her before searching for something in it. She produced a bottle of cosmetics, which turned out to be a bottle of hand lotion, spurted a generous amount of liquid on her hand before rubbing the liquid and spreading it throughout her hands.

Habitually, I took a look at her nails. They weren’t coloured, but I could tell that they were meticulously tended to. She seemed to prefer having her nails short as well.

She then put the hand lotion back into her bag, placed the tote bag onto her laps, and reached out to her cardigan pocket, taking out her phone.

I let my eyes wander at her back figure. Her jet-black hair was tied up high. The length just reached her shoulders, and she let loose some baby hair just behind her ears. She wore a navy blue shirt tucked into a pair of jeans, a pair of brown flats, and a long, beige cardigan. I could not believe I colour-coordinated with her today, seeing how I also wore a beige cardigan. Feeling somewhat self-conscious with the unexpected similarity, I instinctively straightened my back in my seat.

I was sure I had never seen her before, but I felt a tinge of familiarity. To say the least, I did like what I felt.

The bus made a halt again, where a few people came aboard and some others alighted.

The lady with beige cardigan was approached by an old woman, who seemed to be in her 70s and walked rather slowly. The older woman greeted the lady. The addressed lady, having engrossed in her phone, looked up from the said device and returned the greeting warmly. She blurted out, “It’s been awhile since I saw you, omonim,” while scooting towards the window seat beside her, allowing the older woman to sit on her previously-occupied aisle seat. The conversation that ensued between them seemed like a normal conversation between two individuals who have known each other—not intimately close, but a casual company. Thanks for the bus being relatively vacant, I could catch some questions that the younger lady asked the older woman: had she done the groceries for the day; how were her knees doing, were they getting any better; how were her children doing at their jobs at huge cities like Seoul and Daegu. They had their conversation in hushed voices so they would not disturb other commuters.

From time to time, I couldn’t help but glance at the duo, specifically at the younger lady. Her right side profile was facing me the entire time, and I noticed one thing about her. She was smiling the whole time and I noted a dimple on her right cheek.

Again, I felt that tinge of familiarity.

After a few more stops, the lady with beige cardigan pressed the 'stop' button and helped her older companion to stand up and approach the exit door. It seemed that their stop was there. I realized that my stop was at the next one, but it was just a 5-minute away using bus, so I took my chance to alight at the same stop as theirs.

Alighting the bus, the duo parted ways. “Please have a safe journey home,” the younger said to the older, before the latter hailed a taxi, presumably to go straight to her home.

I walked to the direction of my destination, my university, and what a luck—the lady with beige cardigan also headed the same way. I purposely walked a good 2-metres behind her, obviously not wanting to terrify her.

At that distance, I gauged her height against mine, and I could tell that I was taller than her.

While walking, she had her right hand in her tote bag, looking for something in it and took out her phone. However, in the process of doing so, something else dropped out of the bag but she didn’t seem to realize as she strode away.

Again, another chance, Yoo Changhyun!

I hurriedly went to the dropped item and picked it up. It was a small notebook, and a bit worn out too. Maybe because she used it often. I jogged towards the lady and effectively stopped her in her tracks when I halted in front of her.

“I’m sorry, you dropped this.”

The lady, first having a puzzled look for my sudden appearance, gasped she saw the book in my hand.

“Oh my God. Thank you so much! It’s my university notes,” she thanked as she took the book with both her hands.

“No bother. Please be careful next time.” I attempted a smile at her.

“Oh yes, I have to! This is really important. I could have lost it if it wasn’t for you.” She relieved a sigh of relief.

It was a brief exchange, but even in such a short moment, I didn’t miss her mesmerizing eyes.

“Well, thank you again. Sorry for the trouble! I’m sorry I have to go now.” She smiled, showing the dimple on her right cheek. She bowed before walking away.

It turned out that she wasn’t exactly walking towards my university. She took a right corner a few junctions before my university complex. I took a look at the signboard. Apparently there was another university around, and I assumed that the lady attended it.

I took a mental note: Bus no. 124.

Let’s try my luck next time.

The next day, I took bus no. 124 again to go to my university. This time, I took a seat that was quite close to the middle exit door. I wasn’t expecting much honestly. After all, the lady with beige cardigan could have different university schedules this time.

However, luck was on my side again, when the lady with the beige cardigan boarded the bus at the same bus stop like the previous day. I tried to act cool by making myself engrossed in my phone, playing a game app that I had not touched for a few months.

Who would ever guess that it was the lady who took the initiative?

“Oh, it’s you!”

I looked up from my phone and locked eyes with her. She had bent her body a little bit to take a peek at my face.

“Oh, hi,” I said.

She smiled and took the seat that she sat on the previous day. At that moment, it was only the bus aisle that separated us.

“Thank you again for yesterday. I didn’t know you were a commuter on this bus too,” she spoke.

I said no problem at all. I proceeded to ask her if her university was nearby and she said yes. I was thankful for the relatively vacant bus—again!—it was as if letting me to have a conversation with her.

She was a cheerful lady, and good with carrying conversations.

That day was the start of ‘coincidental’ stumbles towards each other. We went from being casual companies on the bus who talk about anything; to being comfortable and treating each other like friends.

I enjoyed her company. I liked the feeling of familiarity that I had every time she was around. Every time she smiled, showing her dimple. Every time I saw her short nails that showed her meticulous side. Every time I saw her huge tote bag.

A month later, I asked her out.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Posted: 10/04/2020, 09:50