Blue Eyes Down Rideau Street
/The bus was empty, besides the sleepy commuters with early starts. It was the first cold morning of September after a warm summer. The darkness turned breezy, which called for coats and scarves, but turned into a golden sun that carried your layers home in the afternoon. This was the weather on the day I fell for you.
I captured your movement in the grey pants I always picked out for you. I was captivated by your eyes as we sat by the river. Despite their freezing blue colour, they made me warm that autumn evening and continued to warm me for a year and a half.
Courtesy of Victoria Borodinova via pixabay.com
Two years later, on that bus, I was no longer warmed by you. I didn’t even notice the change in temperature when the doors opened, and you stepped on.
When the bus pulled into Hurdman Station, I finally noticed the blue jacket you always wore on days like this one. I used to meet you at the bus stop late, with you in your collared shirts and fancy shoes. That puffy, blue jacket never matched anything, but I overlooked it.
I scanned my eyes down to those shiny, brown shoes, then back to your head that was thrown over your shoulder and facing my direction. You quickly snapped back before you hopped off the bus and headed to the train platform.
The last time we were here together was four months after the first time I ended things. I thought God put you there when I asked for forgiveness, but it was the devil teaching a lesson. The love witch was out when you kissed me Halloween night, and I fell into your wrath one more time.
We didn’t look at each other as we got on the train. We both knew damn well we were getting off at Rideau. We still had the same jobs. We used to meet after work in the Byward Market for milkshakes in -20o weather.
The trip was quick. It was almost as fast as you sprinted away, but longer than it took for me to fall in love. This time I was slow, taking my time because there was no longer a rush for love, unlike the one you seemed to be in.
You kept looking back, but it was too late. You should have looked back before you decided to kiss that other girl in March.
I cried myself to sleep right beside you the night I learned about her. You said no when I demanded an apology. You told me I was crazy. That night was the first time your warm eyes turned me into the ice that resembled your heart.
You pushed the doors open and walked into Rideau Street’s darkness, where I left my feelings for you. I gave you cold eyes to leave the same lasting impression that you etched in my heart.
Sarah Travis
Sarah is a second-year Professional Writing student at Algonquin College. When she’s not in zoom classes, she’s either making coffee for the green siren, or at a thrift store.
