An Orange Ribbon – Renee Treweek

The first time I saw you, I noticed the thread on your belt. I remember it standing out, as I weaved my way onto the bus, crowded and full, the press of warm bodies against me always leaving me queasy. Then I saw the flash of orange, a ribbon hanging from your hip, and I was enraptured, the people fell away. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose, your jeans held by the curve of your hips and the leather belt you wore. The orange contrasted so sharply with the green of your jacket, with the muted colours of those around you. Why did you wear it? What purpose did it serve? I slipped my sunglasses on quickly, to hide my stare, moving my way toward you as surreptitiously as I could. You were turned away from me, I needed to see who owned the ribbon.

Finally, I reached you, having to move slowly so I didn’t telegraph my intent, reaching up to grab the hand rail, turning into you ever so slightly. I still had my headphones in, but I turned off the music, wanting to hear you if you spoke. You didn’t though, your own headphones over your ears, I could see the fingers on your spare hand tapping a rhythm against your leg, and I wondered what you were listening to. I caught the hint of your profile, the straight nose, the freckles dotted across it, but glanced away as I felt you noticing. Who are you that you have turned into a beacon, the orange ribbon all but forgotten as I pondered you.

The bus lurched, all of us on our feet lurching in time, a dance performed on every bus, and I fell into you, breath catching as you turned toward me, cringing inwardly, but frozen, not moving back. You turned far enough for me to catch your eye, blue-grey meeting brown, though you didn’t know it, my eyes hidden. I coughed and shuffled back, my awkward ways coming through as I apologised. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you nodded and held my eye. I had a momentary panic that I’d not put my glasses on, you seemed to stare into me. I clenched my teeth and wondered what the fuck was going on. My hand reached to push my glasses up involuntarily, an internal sigh when I realised they were there, but by then your look had turned thoughtful, and I felt my cheeks warming in response.

The bus started off again, and this time it caught you off guard, your momentary distraction left you unprepared, and you lurched into me. I wrapped my spare arm around you by instinct, a pull, although I felt like I was the one falling. We were nose to nose, and I took in the subtle curve of your lips, the angle of your jaw, swallowing at the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. It took me a moment to realise you hadn’t moved back, that you were still holding onto the railing yourself and could have at any time. It was warm, the press of people and our thick jackets making sweat start to form on my back, but really it was the press of you. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, my world grinding to a halt, only the feel of you pressed against me and the flash of orange as it caught my eye left. Slowly the corner of your mouth lifted in a sly smile, and you righted yourself, the murmur of a sorry on your breath. It was my turn to nod, letting my arm fall back to my side, stuffing it in my pocket to hide the shake.

I turned slightly to look past you, to stare out at the world rushing by, blurred and polarised as I tried to ground myself, wondering still what the fuck was happening. An orange ribbon and a stranger in my arms on the bus. You must try and get hold of yourself, I told myself, but with you in my periphery, looking at me, I felt as if I was standing on soft sand, my balance thrown off kilter, no amount of shifting negating the feeling of free fall. I bit the inside of my lip and breathed slowly through my nose, trying to focus on the stench of sweat, even on cold days it’s always there, and I wondered why.

Slowly I pulled myself back from the edge, shifting my gaze into the bus, to look at the tired faces around me. So many people, packed into a small space, so many people a million miles away. And finally, so many people unseen. I caught sight of the ribbon again, turning back. But not you. Not to me. Orange. I knew that whenever I saw orange I was going to think of you, and I didn’t even know who you were. When I saw a half smile, I knew I’d remember the curve of your lips, if I saw a green jacket I’d wonder if it was you. I wondered if I’d lost my mind.

The bus slowed again, and it was my stop. The feeling of dread crept up on me, the moment of connection over already. Was that it? Is it ok if that is just it? The bus stopped, and I looked up to you one last time. You were still watching me, headphones pulled to your neck now, when did you do that? Next minute you reached your hand up to my face, pulling my glasses off gently. I was frozen in the moment, I watched your eyes widen ever so slightly, felt electricity arc between us. I swallowed again, then reached to take my glasses from your hand. I inclined my head as I turned and made my way from the bus. I felt like I was walking into a gale force wind, but pushing anyway, like I was making a huge mistake, but I was too shy to do anything else.

I reached the front, flipped my collar up and stepped back out into the icy wind, so much colder now than before. I paused for a moment, stuffed my hands in my pockets, and cursed myself for forgetting my gloves again. I turned and started my trudge toward work. I stopped at the traffic lights, reached over to press the button, and squeaked in surprise. You were standing next to me, hand on the button, looking at me, orange ribbon flapping in the breeze, a small smile of your face. “Hi,” you said, calm as anything. I stuttered a “Hi,” in return, another blush spread across my cheeks. I looked at the ribbon and back to you, and in that moment, I knew. An orange ribbon had just altered the course of my life.