Love One Step at a Time

Some forms of love happen at first sight. Others are incremental, fragile. Happen one step at a time.

Between the end of the work day and the curfew, we really only had about an hour in there to get outside for some exercise. At this time of year, the sun was already setting. The rays cut between buildings, sinking faster with every minute until they left a colourful array of clouds in the sky.

Each day, I couldn’t wait for work to end, for the locks to unlock, and let us out into the world, if even for a short time. Not many people even ended up going outside after work because you had to be home before the curfew. Punishment was severe if you were even a minute late. So, if you went for a walk, you had to time yourself in order to get back home in the right amount of time.

I usually took the same route, that way I knew I would be home with plenty of time. Actually, I was usually home early and so sat outside on the front porch until it was time to go back in. Waited right up until the last moment. Even in the cold, I wanted to make sure I breathed in as much fresh air as I possibly could before being locked in again.

We noticed each other from the first moment we crossed paths. Our eyes locked - she puffed away on a cigarette, shuffled along the sidewalk in tiny steps. If she noticed me in any other way then a cursory and polite glance, I couldn’t tell. We both stood on the corner waiting for the traffic light to change, and once we did, we walked across the street side-by-side. On the other side of the street, we parted ways in opposite direction. I paused, turned around, and watched as she walked away. Remembering the impending curfew, I hustled back home.

There was very little room for love in the modern lifestyle. What usually passed for love was more companionship. Two people around the same age and doing the same kind of work combined their sources of income. It just made life easier. Over the years, love just got pushed out of the equation.

Taking that same route every day, I kept seeing her puffing away as she passed me. Crossed the street at the same time. I confidently determined these were not mere cursory glances anymore. We had entered each other’s orbit by chance, but now intentionally crept closer and closer.

After a walk, I sometimes sat on my porch and wondered why I just didn’t speak to her. Even a word. But in this day and age, words were dangerous. They brought with them the threat of external forces coming down on you. In a way, we had already broken enough rules that we could get into trouble. When going outside, we were supposed to have a goal - shopping, exercise, whatever - and just focus solely on that goal. Just a few weeks ago, two people who knew each other from the before times stopped and exchanged pleasantries. I don’t know what happened to them, but I never saw them again. There was so little room for contact with other people, that even this connection, however slight, brought an electrical field of excitement for me. On the one hand, you could say it was kind of sad that this was what constituted as a connection between two people. On the other hand, it brought your focus to such a level that what came with it was an appreciation for the smallest of things.

Soon, those small things would grow into something larger, and even more dangerous.

The next day, I went through my exact same routine. As we waited for the light to change, and with the slightest of movements, she slid a small piece of paper into my hand. And for the briefest of moments, we touched, and it took all of my power to keep looking straight as though nothing had happened.

The walk back to my place was the longest walk ever. I could not move faster or make it look like I was hurrying in any way. On my porch, I unfurled the rolled up tiny piece of paper. On it was one word, a name, her name. I said it to myself. I scribbled my name on the other side of the paper and rolled it up as tightly as I could.

The next day couldn’t come quickly enough. Everything had become so fragile. From our emotions to our physical bodies to relationships and even the rules governing our society. Everything was on the edge, especially our emotions. As I ventured out for my walk, I thought about the different loves in my life and how fragile they made me, but in a good way. When losing a love, it breaks you down, but it does teach you something. Now the fragility seemed unearned, like there was nothing to fight for, like there was nothing worthy of it.

I walked that day as far as my time limit took me. I stopped and waited for the traffic light alone, not daring to look around. Maybe she was just a few steps late? When I got back home, three men were waiting on the porch. I had a love in my life and now it was gone. It was worth it.