Date: Mon, 18 Jun 2001 23:34:35 -0400 (EDT)
From: Jess Krop <jess_krop@yahoo.ca>
Subject: Different Worlds (FF) 1/4

                           Different Worlds
                                Part 1

I first saw Sam outside the downtown bus station.  I had just arrived
back in town after a trip to see relatives in a nearby city, and was
about to catch a city bus home when I noticed her sitting on the
sidewalk outside the automatic doors.  There's always a group of young
kids hanging around the bus station.  Many of them live on the street
at least part of the time, and the bus station is one of the few
buildings that has public washrooms and drinking fountains which
they're free to use.  They panhandle, busk, and just generally hang
out.

What drew my attention was her expression and composure.  She seemed
so sure of herself; the sort of person who dealt with the world
entirely on her own terms.  Like most kids who spend a lot of time on
the street, she was dressed plainly, in baggy jeans and an old brown
sweater with leather patches on the elbows.  Her hair was no longer
than two inches at any point on her head.  I guessed that she was
about twenty years old.  She stood out to me because you so rarely see
people who are so utterly comfortable with what they have in life.  As
I was watching, a girl sporting long dreadlocks replete with beads and
shells walked up to the group, and greeted her with a kiss on the
cheek.  Mind your own business, I told myself, as I stepped into the
bus waiting at the curb and pulled out my paperback.  But I couldn't
resist a glance back over my shoulder as the city bus pulled away from
the curb.

After that, I kept an eye out for street kids when I was downtown.  In
the evenings and on weekends the downtown streets were packed with
people, but during the weekdays there were mostly office workers out
to grab a cappuccino on their break, single-minded shoppers, and
street kids.  Every once in a while I'd see her-- sitting on a park
bench, leaning against a wall beside a group of kids playing hand
drums, or walking down the street past the department store.  There
was always something about her presence which made me want to get to
know her, although we seemed to move in completely different worlds.

Then, about three months after I first saw her, I was offered a
transfer.  I had been working in library near my house in an old
residential neighbourhood, and a position was open in the library's
main branch.  It was a small step up from my job at the time, and came
with a minor pay raise.  At least, that's how I justified the new
commute to my friends and my mom, but in retrospect I think that a
part of me was looking for a reason to spend more time downtown.

On my first day of work, I saw her in remote corner of the third
floor.  I had idly glanced down an aisle when the sight of her made me
stop in my tracks.  She was slouching in a comfy chair in a small nook
in the heart of the government publications section, beside a window
overlooking the street.  Her boots were propped on the armrest of the
chair beside her, and her nose was firmly in a hardcover.  I noticed
that she had shaved her head since the last time I had seen her.  I
wondered what she was reading, but I didn't want to bother her;
besides, I had work to do.  I had just taken a five minute break from
my desk in the library's top floor, and was due to meet with my
supervisor.  She turned a page and sighed, and I watched as her
breasts rose and fell.  I shook myself and returned to my desk.

Later that day, I was helping out at the checkout counter when she
approached, book in hand.  I saw immediately that she still had that
calm look of self- assurance.  She had been watching the flow of
people through the main doors when I finished serving the patron
before her in line, and she turned to face me.

She smiled at me in a friendly way, as much with her eyes as with her
mouth, and said "hello".  I managed to mumble a reply, and accept the
book which she had slid across the counter with her library card.  I
scanned the card by habit, and fumbled the book as I held it up to the
bar code reader.  She stuck out a hand to steady it, and I felt her
fingertips graze across mine under her copy of Walden.  We smiled at
the situation together, our eyes firmly locked on each other.  Then
the moment ended, I put a due date sticker on the front of her book,
she dropped it into a voluminous green canvas knapsack, and then
turned to leave.  There were other people waiting, but I retained
enough presence of mind to look at the patron record still displayed
on my terminal.  My mystery girl was named Sam Tollar.  I began to
serve the next person in line, but looked up to see Sam head out the
door.  As I was watching, she turned back, smiled, and was gone into
the bright afternoon.

Michael, who was working beside me at the sign-out desk, saw my smile.
"Aren't we in a good mood this afternoon," he said, laughing.  He knew
that working the checkout desk was not normally my favourite part of
this job.  You never had a moment to yourself when you were busy
running back and forth, helping the endless stream of people who
poured through the library... but all that was far from my mind now.
The rest of my shift at checkout was a bit of a blur, and I soon found
myself back at my desk, looking blankly out at the lone tree which
stood forlornly outside my window, sheltered by a corner of the
library.  Beyond the tree I could see the taxi stand of the hotel next
door.  I was looking less at the cabbies chatting over their
cigarettes then at my own reflection, which I saw was lost deep in
thought.  Rachel, you silly girl, I thought to myself, what are you
doing?  She must be almost ten years younger than you.  That's true, I
answered, but she didn't seem to mind.  The conversation showing no
sign of improvement, I resigned myself to sitting quietly and watching
the world pass by my window, my work long forgotten.

Late that Saturday afternoon, on a whim, I decided to head downtown.
The sidewalks were always teeming with life on the weekends.  I saw
the tourists purchasing silly souvenirs, the teenagers smoking dope in
the alleys, the block- long line of black Harley-Davidsons owned by
weekend road warriors who chatted beside them in matching black
leather, and the street kids.  I heard the beat of drummers, and,
rounding a building, saw them on a corner.  There were ten or fifteen,
all younger than me, playing various hand drums.  Some had bongos, but
most had larger drums which they wore strapped to their waist or
hanging from their shoulders.  A lot of people were standing around
watching the performance, and a group of kids were hanging around,
dancing or otherwise participating on the edge of the group of
drummers.  I scanned the crowd, and then I saw her.

Sam was sort of dancing, off to the side of the drummers.  Boys in
dreadlocks and girls in flowery smocks were swaying to and fro to the
beat of the drums, and Sam was watching them, while she shuffled from
side to side in time to the music.  Beside her, a girl with a safety
pin through her eyebrow who couldn't have been more than sixteen was
hitting what appeared to be two rusty metal spoons against each other.
As I watched, the song came to a tremendous crescendo, and ended.  The
dancers came back to earth, and with them Sam.  She looked up at the
crowd for the first time, and caught my eye.  We smiled.

Then, Sam was working her way through the crowd towards me.  "Nice to
see you again, Rachel," she said.  Taking my look upon hearing my name
as surprise, she grinned.  "That guy at the library told me.  I'm
Sam."

"I know.  I saw your library card."  That made her smile.  I didn't
bother to tell her that Michael, who usually worked the check-out
desk, had told me later that she had come back the next and asked
about me.  I also didn't tell her that I had taken to hanging out near
the check-out counter more than I really needed to, hoping I might see
her.

I was at a loss for what to say next.  I knew I wanted to talk to her,
but it wasn't clear to me what I wanted to talk about.  Well, Rachel,
that probably means you just wanted to spend time with her, my mind
told me.  Oh, brilliant insight, brain.  Oblivious to this
conversation, Sam had continued to watch me, still swaying back and
forth to the beat of the music.  Gradually, she began to move more of
her body, starting with her hips and progressing to her shoulders and
hands, until finally the call of the drums was too much to ignore, and
she threw herself into the dance.  I stood and watched her lithe young
body twist and stretch, and then she looked my way and gave me an
inviting smile.  I laughed a little self-consciously.  I couldn't do
that.

But it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and Sam was smiling,
and I could feel the drummer's beat willing my feet to move.  It
suddenly felt so right, and nobody else was watching me, anyway.  I
awkwardly shuffled into the group of dancers and began to move,
keeping an eye on Sam, and watching her watch me.  It didn't take me
long to loose my inhibitions, and soon there was nothing in the world
for me but the music and Sam.  I swear I saw her checking me out, but
then, I was probably doing the same.

Eventually, the music ended, and I sat down with Sam beside a wall.
She produced a small bottle of water, drank some, and offered the rest
to me.  I accepted, and thanked her.  I wasn't sure what to say next,
but she spared me the decision.  "Do you work at the library a lot?  I
only saw you there that one time."

"Oh, yeah, but I work at a desk upstairs.  I, um, track people's
borrowing habits and help decide what types of books to buy.  I was
just helping out that day because someone went home sick."

"I bet you like that work."

"Well, it would be better if I got to see the patrons occasionally."
Or at least some of them in particular.

"Still, it sounds like you're doing something which makes you happy.
That's good.  I mean, really, it's important."

"You only do things which make you happy?", I asked.

She shrugged.  "Pretty much."

"Most people aren't so lucky."

"Most people just don't have their priorities straight."

"So what would make you happy right now?"

"Well, I was about to take a break and eat something.  I'd be happy if
you came with me."

She smiled at me, and I already knew I could never refuse that face.
"Be happy to."

"See?  You've already got the hang of it."

We wandered off to a nearby park, stopping briefly to fill up Sam's
water bottle from a tap beside a flower garden, and settled down in
the shade of a large tree.  Sam produced two carrots and an apple from
the depths of her bag, and I took a carrot as she leaned against the
tree with a content expression on her face.  The mottled sunlight
which filtered through its leaves danced on her stubbled head.  When I
asked her why she thought more people didn't live to make themselves
happy, she laughed.  "Rachel, if you did the things that made you
happy, you would have asked me to kiss you by now."  I didn't know
what to say to that.  Sam didn't help, either-- she just smiled at me
enigmatically and raised her eyebrows.  I suddenly realized that she
was right.  I wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss her, as
she sprawled out in the grass.

Spontaneity has never been my strong suit, however.  Before I had
figured out how to respond, we were joined in the park by some kids
who seemed to know Sam.  She introduced me, but I didn't really feel I
belonged in the conversation, so after a few minutes, I got up to
leave.  Sam stood up too, and walked over to stand beside me.  "I hope
I'll see you around, girl," she said to me.  I told her she would, and
then she reached out her hand, pulled my head towards hers, and gave
me a kiss.

After a moment she pulled back and looked at me to make sure I didn't
mind.  I finally recovered from my shock, and grabbed her.  I put my
arms around her, and kissed her deeply and meaningfully.  Sam's hands
caressed my back as she kissed me back, and then it was over.  She
took a step back.  "See you later." I nodded, still feeling a little
disoriented.  I turned away, and walked towards the entrance of the
park, my head firmly in the clouds.  I still wasn't sure what had just
happened to me, but I knew I wanted it to happen again.  And I think
Sam did, too.