A Shadow on the Shore

It was autumn, late evening, and the sound of my steps crunching the brown leaves reminded me of loneliness. I intended to go straight home after work, but the view of the sea was far more attractive. I glanced at my watch. 8 pm. I sat on the wooden bench by the shore and decided to listen to music, leaving my thoughts to wander around distant and strange places. My gaze got lost following the soft line of the horizon as it separated blue and orange colors.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a shadow moving towards me, a confusing scent accompanying it. I analyzed the smell — a spicy mixture of citrus and wood. I turned and faced a man smiling at me. His black hair contrasted his pale skin which was now turning to a sweet yellow shade, reflecting the evening light. He pointed at the empty seat next to me. “Do you mind?” His gleaming, brown eyes looked straight into mine.

I told him I didn’t and returned to my music — Mogwai’s Take Me Somewhere Nice was now playing on my list. A sudden movement distracted me. I looked at him folded over his lap, tapping his fingers rhythmically, his mouth forming the lyrics. Maybe I play my music too loud?

For some reason, I found this intrusion amusing, and laughed. His eyes crinkled in surprise, and for a moment, we stared at each other smiling.

I wondered for a moment why people respond to attraction with awe or fear. Why do our hearts quicken, our palms sweat, our knees become weak? Why do we always have to question happiness while we treat sadness as a guest we always expected?

He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. Why the hell not? I took it, and he lit it for me. I thanked him with a smile.

I put back my earphones and let my mind, once more, get lost in thoughts, pictures, memories. His fingers were tapping on the bench, but this time I wasn’t distracted or disturbed. I felt like it had always been our routine, and if it hadn’t, I could get used to it now. Just like that, sitting next to him suddenly felt comfortable.

When the song finished, he stood up, invading my view with his tall, strong presence. He stayed in front of me for a moment and smiled. “You have a very nice taste in music,” he said. “I’d love to do this again sometime. Thanks for tonight.”

Not knowing how to answer, I smiled back and nodded again in confirmation. I always felt I should have said something. His steps brought back the sound of loneliness as he slowly disappeared, leaving his shadow behind him to make sure I’d see him again.

That night, I returned to what to me felt like a cold home. I looked at my bed. It seemed bigger but it hadn’t changed an inch. Nights like these, my house felt dark even with the lights on. I opened the window, but it was too late for the city to comfort me with noise. I clicked play on my favorite piano list. Yiruma’s soft melodies filled my room with relatable emotions. I relaxed with my favorite When The Love Falls playing on repeat until the sunlight forced my eyes shut.

I spent half of the next day in bed. There was a weight on my chest after the previous night’s thoughts, so I decided to write. My mind strung together sad lines of loneliness and hope, and my hand, following its order, laid them on the paper without hesitation. I looked out of my window. My garden had turned brown from the fallen leaves. The distant view of the ocean beckoned me forth.

Accompanied by Shigeru Umebayashi’s In the Mood for Love I made my way to the same bench. I clicked “Repeat song” and closed my eyes, relaxing with the beautiful melody and the scent of the sea, until the familiar scent I met the day before overtook it. My eye caught his shadow. He’s here.

He beamed. “Good evening. May I?”

My heart fluttered. Once again, I just nodded. I watched him walk around the bench before sitting, his shadow following him in circles. I wondered what would happen if shadows had lives themselves. How would it be to follow someone all your life? And if they did have a life and a character, would they be the same as their owner — if we truly are our experiences? Anyway, this one was, indeed, a lucky shadow. How many things does it know about him when I don’t even know his name?

“Is two days in a row too much of a disturbance?”

I chuckled. “Not at all.”

“So, what are we listening today?”

“Some sad, very sad songs,” I replied.

I gave him one of my earphones and kept the other. He offered me a cigarette, and I smiled at the thought of the routine. Once in a while can’t be that bad.

We sat quietly next to each other, listening to music, lost in our thoughts. The tracklist kept playing the songs one after another. He stood up.

Stay a little longer.

He gave me his polite smile. “Thank you. I was looking forward to this. I really hoped I’d find you here again.”

“I was hoping you’d hope.” I grinned. “So, can you hope for tomorrow too?”

A laugh escaped his lips to complete a surprised expression. “I already do.”

As the sound of his steps faded, the silence grew heavier. Sad and greedy, my only thoughts were those desiring his presence.

The days went by and our evening meetings continued until it became a necessity to see him. When he delayed, I sat in silence waiting for the familiar shadow. When I was late, I always found him standing, his hands in his pockets, looking at the sea. I’d say Hey, and he would always flash the warmest smile I’d seen.

“How about dinner sometime?” He interrupted our music session one evening.

“S-Sure… How come?”

“C’mon, it’s not really that weird. Let’s spend more time. We can talk, and eat, and share stuff about each other.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“How about tomorrow evening?”

The excitement on his face cheered me. I nodded biting my lip.

He stood up. “Well, tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.”

As if a part of him was left behind, I didn’t feel lonely that evening, even when I watched him leave. Maybe because the date gave me the certainty I would see him again. After all, isn’t that what we all want, to find a reason to look forward to the next day?

I heard steps coming closer. Somebody might want to sit on the bench. It was time to return home and, in any case, I wasn’t about to share this bench with anyone else, so I put back my earphones and stood up. I turned around only to bump into him.

“Missing you has become a physical pain. How annoying.” He laughed. “Let’s have this dinner tonight, I was unable to leave. There’s a piano bar around the corner.”

I laughed too and nodded — as always.

We went to the bar. We ate and drank and talked under the sounds of the corner piano — without earphones. I don’t remember everything we talked about that night, but it must have been interesting because we spent all night talking. I only remember that his arms around me felt like home.

We made a promise to visit that bench every year, and until today we do. We listen to music and stare at the sea, as we did back then.

Before we leave, I always place the earphones we used on the bench, supposedly in secret. He pretends he doesn’t notice but at the end we both smile.

You never know which shadows a pair of earphones can bring together.