Those Emerald Eyes

"Attention all passengers, the night train to Madrid CNL 1113, originally scheduled at 0010 will be delayed for eighty minutes..."

I was standing right under the display screen at the platform. Right there, it was stated very clearly: CNL 1113 to Madrid, delay of 80 minutes.

"Damn," I cursed under my breath and stole a glance at my watch. 0000. Midnight. I looked around me. Midnight in Venprek, more specifically on Platform 8 of the Central Station of Venprek: there were a few other people sitting on the benches, shivering slightly. It was a cold night. They were probably headed for Madrid too. I rubbed my hands to keep them warm; I had forgotten my gloves.

The announcement was repeated again. When it was over, a girl sitting at the bench closest to me got up from her seat. She gave me a nod of acknowledgement and made her way to the escalator, luggage in tow.

"90 minutes, a full game," I decided to wait in one of the cafes in the station; it didn't make sense to feel frustrated and cold at the same time.

I caught up with her at the escalator. She was talking on the phone, "The train is delayed for an hour. I will probably arrive only at 11 instead of 10… yes, I know… it always happens, doesn't it? Is Mother asleep?"

Riding down the escalator, I saw a few more people lingering around the station. There were not many trains left on the schedule, so it wouldn't be as bustling as it would be during the day. Yet there were still people waiting to leave, and people waiting for people to arrive. Even at such an unearthly hour.

Upon reaching the foot of the escalator, the girl turned left. I looked around and decided to go to the right instead.

Most of the shops were closed, but I managed to find a café that was still open. Aside from the two baristas, there were only two other people in the café- a girl reading a book with a caramel macchiato and a man sitting at the table right beside the counter.

So this is what the Central Station is like at midnight, I thought aloud.

I surveyed the drinks selection, and decided on a Maple Cappuccino. As I waited for my drink, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation between the man and the barista who was preparing my drink, because he was talking loudly. The other barista had gone to clear up the tables.

"Say, will you be here tomorrow?" he asked.

She replied without looking up, "Maybe."

"Same time?"

She didn't really reply to that, instead busied herself with the preparation of my order.

"How about we go for a drink later?"

"I have classes tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"I am not really free," she said, before turning to me, and handing me my drink. "Your maple cappuccino."

"Thanks," I acknowledged before making my way to the empty couch next to the one the girl had taken.

She barely looked up as I made my way past her to get to the couch. It was right beside the glass wall; but at this hour, there was nothing to see but an empty passageway.

She wasn't reading a book. At least it wasn't a novel. It was a book bound in leather. She was reading and writing in it. A journal.

She suddenly stopped and turned to me. I hurriedly looked away, in a vain attempt to pretend that I wasn't looking at her, but she maintained her gaze. So I turned back to face her and said, "Hi."

She nodded in acknowledgement, and turned back to her journal.

"Where are you headed?" I asked casually.

"Madrid," she said, looking up again, and flashed a wistful smile. "But it's delayed."

"I am going there too."

"Really?" her eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled. She looked as if she was going to say something, but didn't.

"Why are you going to Madrid?" I asked.

"I am from Madrid," she said. My eyes fell on the suitcase and another smaller bag beside her.

"Here on holiday?"

"No," she shook her head. "I was doing an exchange semester here."

"So it's over and you are going back?"

"That's right."

"You have a good grasp of the language."

"There was a module for it in the curriculum," she said.

"Did you know anything before you came?"

She looked away. "Not really."

"I see."

She closed her journal. "What about you? Why are you going to Madrid?"

"I am looking for someone there."

She nodded slowly in understanding.

I nodded in acknowledgement and smiled. "That's why."

We sat quietly for a while, staring at our drinks.

"I was here to look for someone too," she said quietly.

I looked up in surprise.

"That's the reason why I came. When the opportunity came up, I immediately went for it and got it."

"Did you find the person you were looking for?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"I see," I said, looking down.

"But don't worry," she said, putting on an encouraging smile. "I am sure you will have more success than me."

I smiled. "Thank you. Maybe he is in Madrid all this while."

"I am looking for a girl."

"A girl?"

She nodded and leaned back against the couch. "My boyfriend came to Venprek on a trip. When he came back from his trip, he was a different person all together. He was always dazed, always lost in his own world. Like under a spell, a curse. I tried to help him, and probed about the trip. There was a painting. He told me everything about it. A painting that he had painted himself while on the trip. He treasured it a lot. It was the painting of a girl wearing a mask at the Grand Fest."

I nodded in understanding. Taking place in summer, the Grand Fest is one of the most important dates in the Venpreker calendar. On this day, everyone would dress up and go out to the streets to party. The city literally transforms into a gigantic ballroom. It is also common practice for girls to wear masks that cover the lower half of their faces. It is a tradition that dates back to the Middle Ages.

She continued, "The girl he had come across at the Grand Fest, wearing a mask which covered half of her face, but whose whole appearance he had committed to memory, drawing it hours later in solitude by the moonlight, capturing with every stroke, bringing to life with every stroke, her radiance, charm and style. Most striking of all were her eyes. He told me that he had fallen in love with her eyes. He would be able to recognize them anywhere."

She paused before continuing, "To understand it, to understand him, the new him, I came here to look for the girl with those emerald eyes."

"At that time, it did occur to me: Maybe I will lose everything. But I couldn't just sit still and do nothing. I had to go for it." She looked at me, signaling the end of what she had to say.

"I see," I finally said.

"I am sorry to interrupt," the barista who was clearing the tables came over. "But we are closing soon."

We nodded and started to gather our belongings.

"Your caramel macchiato," I pointed to the half-empty cup on the table.

"I am leaving it here. I am leaving after all," she said with a smile.

I nodded and held on to my maple cappuccino. As we made our way out, the guy flirting with the barista was also taking his leave.

"Don't worry. I am leaving tonight. I am leaving for good. Never ever coming back. I was supposed to have left already, but my train was delayed. I didn't mean anything that I had said. I was just passing time while waiting. The fact is that I am leaving someone else tonight. Someone who means a lot to me. And this city of course. This city which means a lot to me. Thank you for keeping me company. And goodnight."

Outside the café, I checked my watch. It was 1 in the morning. "We can start making our way up to the platform."

She nodded. We rode the escalator silently. On the platform, we sat on an empty bench to wait out the remaining few minutes. The train was not yet here.

As the train finally rolled into the station, she asked, "Why are you looking for the person you are looking for in Madrid?"

"He is from Madrid," I said quietly.

"Do you know Spanish then?"

"A little. Whatever he had taught me."

"And you are going like that to find him. That's brave of you."

I laughed. "You too."

She laughed.

"Say, do you have the painting with you?"

She looked at me, "He told me everything about it, but never showed it to me."

"I see."

She whipped out a piece of paper and scrutinized it. "I think my reservation is over there."

I verified for her. "It is. Mine is right here."

She laughed, "No wonder you chose this bench. So you knew."

I smiled and stuck out a hand, "Thank you and all the best to you and your boyfriend."

She shook it, "Thank you. All the best in your search too."

I nodded and released my grip. She adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder and smiled, before turning to walk away, pulling her suitcase along.

I boarded the train and found my seat. As the train finally started pulling out of the station, I thought about the night. Leaving a place and going to another, the expectations, optimism and yearning that lead to it, or result from it. Not just that of the person himself, but the people around him, the people who matter to him, and the people to whom he matters. I thought about myself throwing everything down, leaving my beloved Venprek to go to his Madrid to search for him. Without knowing anything other than his name. Impulsive or naïve? I didn't really know. Perhaps I would lose myself in Madrid. Maybe I would lose everything. All for the sake of chasing a summer. That summer.

Staring out at the Venpreker night, I caught my own reflection in the window. Were my eyes the ones she had been looking for?