Sasica

"Stand clear of the gates."
Stand clear of the gates... the gates open releasing yet another horde
and with them I recieve the hot breath of trains.
I stand and wait. Hampstead Foyer. London.
I am waiting. I watch everyone rushing past. Where is it they all rush
to? Twenty-six and still waiting. Quite soon the station clears except
for me waiting for the next delivery. I decide to call her once
again.
"No, I'm sorry. She's not in."
I dont know when... "Who's calling?" Suddenly I'm not me. I have a
pseudonym.
"Stand clear of the gates," it drawls, prerecorded, its mechanical
voice always reminding me of 1984. I stand and wait. I notice her
immediately. She stands out alone in the crowd. I notice her, her
rampant hair curling: she looks like ice. Yes. Her slim shoulders, her
mouth. Yes. I've noticed her. My sexual fantasy begins to form most
real.
She is talking, something about having put the money in the wrong
machine. She fumbles in her bag: it seems she's lost her purse. Colour
creeps up her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I can't pay the excess fare, I've
lost my purse." I step foward. "Let me pay."
Now I'm standing next to her she has become more beautiful. She
answers, "No really, I can send the money." I smile. I pay the excess
fare. We walk on together; I start my juggling act with words. "Arnt
you pleased you met me? She laughs deliciously.
"Where are you going?" She replies: "Do you always talk to complete
strangers like this?"
"We're not strangers. I paid your fare, and besides, not everyone loses
their purse. Can I give you a lift? My cars round the corner. As soon
as I say it I know it's too soon.
Now she looks at me, her eyes untrusting. "No, I'm only going half way
down Haverstock Hill. Besides, I don't know you, do I? Why were you at
the station?"
"I was just waiting. Do you mind if I walk with you?"
"Please yourself," She says in a way that makes me feel quite alone. I
say, "How long have you lived in Hampstead/"
"Three months."- "I moved from South Ken. I like it here, do you like
Hampstead?"- "All streets are the same to me, It's OK." She looks at me
puzzled.
I like to puzzle.
We walk on. I notice how lightly she walks;I look at her. I want to
hold her soon. I am in love. I ask her what her name is. She tells
me,
"Sasica."
"Sasica?Teach me to say it." She laughs and repeats her name
slowly.
"Sasica. My mother is Russian." I interrupt."How old are you?"
"Twenty-three," she says, her vanity aroused.
"I was twenty-three for a yea."
She smiles. She is beautiful. I am nervous because she is beautiful.
"Teach me to say your name." "Sa-si-ca." She repeats it slowly. It's
still remembered.
"Would you have coffee with me? Don't say no. I'm really pleased I met
you tonight." She answers, "I'm sorry, I can't. I have to get home. I'm
expecting a long distance phone call."
Then she stops at a house and opens a gate.
"Why can't you make me a coffee?"
She looks at me. "I get married on Saturday. Good night."
I slowly retrace my steps up the street we had just walked.
Then I notice her.
"Excuse me, can you help me. Can you tell me where Hampstead station
is?"
"I am lost."