Lost and found

Kieran’s first foray into the city was a mixture of wonder and challenge. The towering cityscapes and the constant hum of activity thrilled him, yet the reality of navigating this urban jungle was a different story. Especially when it came to public transport. Today’s encounter with the bus was a testament to that— it was like a mountain to climb for someone with his mobility issues. He had mustered his strength to board, offering a tentative smile to the bus driver. But the driver’s expression soured instantly, mirroring the bitter taste of unwelcome in Kieran’s mouth.

Leaning on his cane, Kieran felt it was both a necessity and a shield in this fast-paced environment. The city’s rhythm was at a pace he couldn’t join; his body simply wouldn’t allow it. Each step was measured, a defiance against the throbbing pain in his back and the weakness in his muscles. Rushing was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

But today, even his cane couldn’t convey his need for a moment’s patience to the bus driver. As the vehicle lurched forward, Kieran’s world spun into chaos. A sharp, involuntary squeal escaped him as he was propelled forward, crashing unceremoniously into the lap of a stranger. His face pressed awkwardly against the man’s stomach, arms flailing for balance, the pain and shock mingling to bring tears to his eyes.

“I’m—” Kieran’s apology was cut short by a sharp twinge of pain, his voice barely a whisper. Well then.

Good things did not just fall into your lap, unless you were this stranger, apparently.

In a twist of fate, Kieran found himself the unwitting centrepiece of a stranger’s day. As he lifted his gaze, a pair of striking golden eyes met his, widening in astonishment. Their silent exchange spoke volumes in the briefest of moments. Too weak to pull himself up, Kieran resignedly sank to the floor, his back against the cool metal, eyes glistening with the sheen of unshed tears.

Behind him, an indignant grandmother, wielding her cane like a weapon of justice, berated the bus driver for his carelessness. Her words about ‘paying attention to the poor handicapped girl’, though misdirected in gender, were a fierce defence of Kieran’s plight. It was a small, albeit misplaced, gesture of solidarity.

“I— I was— I was walking and he drove and my cane slipped. I’m sorry!” Kieran's voice was a mix of apology and confusion. He realised the bus had halted, likely due to his accidental fall. Trapped between the desire to leave and the practicality of his situation, he felt lost. His cane, his lifeline, lay somewhere out of reach. And there he was, unsure and vulnerable on the floor, unsure how he’d even stand up.

He missed home

In the wake of his recovery from a coma and the rehabilitation that followed, Kieran found himself more emotionally fragile than he had ever been. The world outside the sanctuary of the hospital and his home seemed overwhelming, and his defences were easily breached. Thus, it was no surprise when a tear traced a path down his cheek. The murmurs of the other passengers swirled around him, their tones tinged with pity, but Kieran chose to shut them out, focusing instead on his own turmoil, which only served to fuel his tearful state.

The stranger, however, did not react with anger or irritation. Instead, his words were gentle, urging Kieran not to worry. Feeling the touch of a hand against him, Kieran attempted to swipe away his tears, a futile gesture in his emotional state. “Yes?” His response was feeble, almost lost in the surrounding noise.

“I— I don’t think so,” Kieran then confessed, his voice quivering with a mix of embarrassment and helplessness. “I think I’d like to… get out but,” His gaze drifted, landing on his cane lying some distance away in the bus aisle. “I’m not sure how to get up,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a bashful discomfort.

Kieran’s response was hesitant, a light shake of his head prefacing his attempt to articulate his condition. “Well—” he began, pausing as he pressed his lips together, searching for the right words.

“I am… not well,” was his initial, somewhat cryptic reply. Quickly realizing the ambiguity of his statement, he added, “I broke my spine? A few years ago. It’s… better now, but not good,” his tone carefully balanced to convey his situation without over-dramatizing it. His intent was not to elicit sympathy, but to make clear why he couldn't simply stand up unaided. He needed assistance, and perhaps a moment to collect himself in a seat where he could catch his breath.

It was then that Kieran noticed something about the other person: he too had a cane. This observation brought a slight furrow to his brow. Was the stranger visually impaired? The question lingered in his mind, but was left unvoiced as the other person asked for a moment. Kieran hummed in agreement, nodding to acknowledge the request.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly. As he spoke, his hand moved to his back, pressing against his spine, seeking reassurance from his own body. The pain, though ever-present, was manageable for the moment. It was fine, or at least as fine as it could be under the circumstances.

Kieran's response was a bright smile, a small beacon of positivity amidst the discomfort of his situation. “It is!” he responded with genuine enthusiasm. It was a peculiar thing to find a silver lining while sitting on a cold bus floor, but Kieran recognized the progress he had made. Two years earlier, such a fall might have reset all his hard-earned recovery. Now, he felt a cautious optimism, a sense that he might be alright after all. Perhaps, in some odd way, falling into a stranger's lap had been a stroke of luck.

Awareness dawned on him that the stranger might have difficulty seeing his nod, prompting him to verbalise his response. “Yeah… though it would be nice if you could help,” Kieran said, acknowledging his need for assistance. “Just pull me up gently and I’ll be as good as new!” His words were accompanied by a smile, an attempt to mask his tears and put on a brave face.

Kieran's next concern was retrieving his cane, which lay out of reach on the bus floor. Bending to pick it up wasn’t a viable option, given the ache in his back. Fortunately, it seemed that the elderly woman, who had earlier championed his cause, was already on the case. Her actions, while assertive, were a welcome intervention in his moment of need. With her help, and that of the stranger, Kieran felt a flicker of hope that he could navigate this minor crisis and soon be on his way.

Kieran's chuckle was a light-hearted acknowledgment of the stranger’s comment, though he knew all too well the challenging reality behind his optimism. He had been just sixteen when a trip dramatically altered his life, leading to a journey of rehabilitation. Those years, filled with the painstaking relearning of basic functions like walking, talking, eating and even getting dressed, and coping with a sense of profound loss, had reshaped his perspective. Now, hardships seemed less daunting compared to the struggles of his late teens.

As the stranger prepared to help him up, Kieran focused on the familiar routine that had become second nature to him. He steadied his feet, grounding himself for the effort. At the count of three, he pushed upwards, relying on the gentle pull from the other to rise without straining his back. It wasn’t the most graceful manoeuvre, but it was effective and preserved his fragile spine.

“Thank you, now—” Kieran began, his gratitude cut short by the sounds of the elderly woman's curses. The bus doors swung open just as his cane was handed back to him, along with an affectionate cheek pinch from the woman, who now called him a ‘sweet lady’. Despite her well-meaning, albeit slightly misguided, concern, Kieran's focus was on exiting the bus. “I am fine. Thank you. I would like to go outside,” he said, his voice carrying a barely perceptible tremble. His request to the woman was clear, his gesture indicating his eagerness to leave.

The tears still lingered, a warm sting in his eyes, as he prepared to step out into the open air. Just a few moments outside, a chance to breathe and compose himself, and he would be able to face the city once more.

Kieran found himself struggling to interject amidst the grandmother’s well-meaning but overwhelming words. He appreciated her intentions — her efforts to help were genuine, but what he longed for was the simplicity of fresh air, a moment of solitude to gather his thoughts, perhaps accompanied by the comforting warmth of a chocolate milk and a good cry. He couldn’t bring himself to be impolite, though, so he offered a smile, doing his best to hold back the tears.

Rescue came once more in the form of his fellow passenger. The stranger suggested that staying on the bus wouldn’t do Kieran any good. As the man stepped off the bus, Kieran’s eyes widened in surprise. “Hah? You don’t have to—” he began to protest, but his desire to leave the bus was too strong. He glanced at the grandmother, nodding in gratitude, before making his way to the doors.

With the man’s assistance, Kieran carefully descended from the bus, relieved yet slightly embarrassed to need help with the high step. “Thank you,” he expressed his gratitude again, as the bus doors closed and it sped away, leaving them behind.

Kieran’s emotions began to bubble up again, tears threatening to spill as he spoke. “I’m sorry— I’m sure you shouldn’t have gotten out here… I didn’t expect him to start driving when I was still standing or I wouldn’t have taken a bus,” he rambled, his voice quivering on the edge of breaking.

As Kieran’s gaze locked with the stranger’s golden eyes once more, a brief moment paused his anxious thoughts. The man seemed to bypass Kieran’s rambling entirely, focusing instead on his well-being. This simple act of concern prompted Kieran to exhale a sigh, though he managed a nod of reassurance. “I am okay. It happened a long time ago so it’s not as fragile as it used to be. I think I was lucky to fall into your lap… hah…” His words were tinged with a mix of gratitude and awkwardness.

“It does hurt, but it’s… I think it’ll be alright if I can sit down somewhere for a little bit.” He glanced around, a frown creasing his brow as he tried to get his bearings.

“You— do you know where we are? You shouldn’t have gotten out… Do you need me to call you a cab?” Kieran’s voice wavered, betraying his attempt to suppress the rising panic.

Kieran’s smile held a touch of embarrassment as he scratched his cheek, responding to the man’s remark about losing a few years of his life. “Yeah… I did scare you a little, didn’t I?” he said, half-apologetically. The image of the man’s startled expression flashed in his mind, reminiscent of a startled protagonist in a low-budget horror film.

When the topic of finding a place to sit came up, Kieran acknowledged the presence of benches nearby with a hum. However, he quickly added, “Yes, but the cold… it makes it worse,” expressing his preference for somewhere warmer. The chill in the air wasn’t just uncomfortable; it aggravated his condition, blurring the line between the ache from the cold and the pain from his fall.

Relief washed over Kieran as the man assured him that calling a cab wasn’t necessary, mentioning he lived close by. This information helped ease the burgeoning panic in Kieran’s chest, at least momentarily. But then the man’s estimate of an hour and forty-two-minute walk home struck Kieran as odd. The bus was nearing its last stops; even at a slow pace, it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to reach most destinations from here.

“No clue,” he confessed. He had simply followed directions to the bus he needed, not paying attention to the specifics. “But… Did you take the wrong one? You don’t live here?” Kieran asked, curiosity piqued.

Kieran’s response to the revelation that the man had been asleep when he had his unexpected landing was laced with a tinge of humour. “A rude awakening, huh?” he asked, a bit of awkwardness creeping into his tone. He mused to himself about the irony of his situation – he had hoped for a more figurative kind of ’falling for someone’ upon entering the city, but reality often had its own plans.

As the man admitted his lack of awareness about their current location, Kieran’s expression shifted to one of mild concern. The stranger’s curse added to the sense of disorientation. When the suggestion to find a place to sit down first came up, Kieran gave a slow, contemplative nod, mulling over the idea.

Then, with a more assured smile, Kieran made an offer. “What if I treat you to a coffee? For, ehm, helping me out there. That was very kind of you,” he said. He felt a sense of relief knowing he hadn’t interrupted the man’s journey home but had, in a way, saved him from wandering further astray.

“I can get you a cab afterwards. It’ll be no trouble,” Kieran assured him, wanting to return the kindness he had been shown. Then, with a light-hearted tone, he attempted to make light of his situation. “The one good thing about breaking your back is the cash you get, I guess,” he joked. But almost immediately, he realised the joke might be a bit too much and regretted saying it.