Sdrawkcab

It had seemed like an eternity. Shuffling through airports filled signs that made no sense. Sitting on planes surrounded by people who he couldn't communicate with. It made him feel like an outsider. Someone who didn't belong. He felt mute.

He felt alone.

When he stepped off the plane onto the concourse, late in the evening, carrying bags low under his eyes, his luggage was the furthest thing from his mind. He had tried to combat it, stay up all day, reading books, listening to music, skipping the usual single-serving Coke for a few cups of airline coffee, yet none of had helped. The jet lag had caught up to him. It was pulling him down, into an abyss he wasn't familiar with. His energy was depletated. Completely gone. He felt like a shell of a man, empty inside. A ghost.

When he came down the escalator and saw the waves of curls falling around her shoulders, he perked up. It certainly helped seeing a familiar face somewhere so foreign - it got his blood flowing a little quicker. He smiled. He would finally be able to talk to someone again without stumbling over consonants, vowels, and accents his lips weren't use to accommodating.

The cab ride was difficult. He wanted to stay alert, absorb the empty city that was surrounding him, lit up and on display, as if only for him. The locals had gone to bed, preparing for the coming day. It all felt so backward. He was just arriving and they had all departed to their beds.

He felt guilty. All he wanted to do was talk to her. Ask her literally everything possible. But his mind wouldn't allow it. It was jammed. Gummed up. He tried to force a thought, but nothing would come forward.

When they arrived at her apartment, only one thing was on his mind.

"Where was the bathroom?"

When the water poured over his face, he felt young again. His energy came soaring back. He was in a foreign land, thousands of miles away from home and yet, the water that was cascading over his brow and onto his bare skin spoke his language. It spoke to his soul. Deep down, to his core. He felt clean, aware. It took him back to his childhood when he'd stand out in the yard during those hot days - the kind where the sun would reach down and pull away all of his energy and he'd stand there, with his eyes closed. Waiting. And every time, even though he knew it was coming, he'd be surprised when his father dumped the bucket of ice cold water over his shoulders - stealing his breath for just a second.

This quick shower was all that he had needed. He was awake, concious. He was alive again.

He bound out of the bathroom, words flowing from between his lips, bubbling up so quickly he wasn't sure if they were statements or questions - filling in for all the silence he had let build between them during the cab ride.

When he found her - all curled up on top of her blanks, eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly, he couldn't help but smile.

It all really was backwards - but he had all the time in the world to catch up.