I get on the train. I am going back home with my dog, who is in my backpack. (It's a special backpack for dogs.) It's a hot day and the train is quite full. I get seated across from a young mom and baby. I estimate the mom to be about 19 and the baby about 8 months old. The baby is crying and she is struggling to soothe it. The second I put my backpack on the seat next to me, she asks, in French, if there's a dog in there. I answer there is. She asks if it is mean and I say no, it's a friendly dog. She wants to take it out of my backpack, but instead I open it just enough so she can pet it. Later she asks what his name is and how many "months" he is.
Her baby is still crying. She gets angry with her. I say "it's hot" and she says yes, she (her baby) is too hot. Her baby makes eye contact with me and as I laugh at her, she stops crying. She raises her baby to touch my dog, thankfully it is really a friendly dog and the baby laughs. Once in a while the mom says something I don't understand because the train is loud and my French is not perfect. Her baby is sucking on a wet wipe and seems soothed by this, though her mom takes the wet wipe away and reacts with irritation as her baby is now sucking on a blanket. (Maybe it's hungry, I think, but I don't say anything.) She asks where I'm from and I ask her. She is a long way from home. I don't ask her what she is doing here, yet.
She asks if I have children. I say I don't. Why not? Because I don't have a husband I say (I was looking for the word 'partner' but in the speed of the conversation I quickly jumped to a word that I could remember.) She says why not? I say I don't know, it is difficult to find someone kind. (Again, I go for easy words and quick conversation, it feels like I will lose her if my answers take too long.) I ask if her husband is kind. He is, she says. I ask if he's a good father. He is. At one point she asks if she can use my phone to call her husband. I say no and right away I feel guilty. Why am I saying no to this young mom who is clearly struggling on this hot day? But she just carries on the conversation as if nothing has happened. She says nowadays you can also be a mom by yourself. She asks why haven't I done that. That is true, I say, but that is also difficult. I say that, if I haven't found a husband in a couple of years, I might try that. She asks how old I am. I lie and say that I am 32 (I am 33). That is old, she says. I laugh, she doesn't. She ask something I don't quite understand, but I think it's about if I can still find happiness by myself. I say yes. (Later, I realize she might've meant it in a sexual way, but I don't realize that at this point.) Then she says a couple of things that I don't understand, the train is still loud and my French is bad - how can she even understand me, I wonder- but I think she is giving me advice on how to have a baby by myself. I say that I would prefer waiting for a kind person a bit more first. I ask her if it's not difficult, raising a child alone, even though she told me she has a husband and that he's a good father. I just see her, a young girl alone with her baby on the train, and I make assumptions. It's not, she says. She says her husband is in prison. Is that not difficult, I ask, if your husband is in prison and you're by yourself? She says no, it was only for a month, he's out now. But you also have day-care, she says. That's true. She beckons me forward, waving her hand, wants to say something in my ear I move very close to this stranger I've just met. Unfortunately I don't quite understand. She tries a second time, she is persistent. I think it's something sexual but I don't understand. My French is bad, I say . She asks if she can use my phone to write something so I could understand better, but again I say no. She is not angry. I feel guilty again. I say that I'm sorry and that I don't like giving my phone away. When I say, excusez-moi, her reaction one of understanding. She says something to me again about getting pleasure by myself, and now she says that I don't need a husband, that there are also plastic dolls for that. She says this with a serious face, her expression unchanged. So I try to answer it in the same serious manner, as she seems like she's truly trying to help me, a 32 year-old, childless and husbandless woman. I say that is not really my "type" but I can see that I've used the wrong word for "type" because she doesn't understand. She says it feels exactly the same as her husband. I say, that's good.
The only time she corrects my French, is when I refer to her baby as lui instead of elle.
I ask about the tattoo on her arm, if it's the name of her baby. It's the name of her husband.
When the train is almost there, she asks me what I do for a living. I say I'm a psychologist. She doesn't know the word, even though I'm certain I said it right. I try to explain by saying that I help children who have problems. She says, so you work at a foyer? And I don't understand why she would use that word so I say I don't understand, and then she asks if it's a place where are a lot of children live together and I say yes even though that's a lie. And for a second she looks me in the eye, right before I get up to leave the train and wish them a good day, and I'm wondering if she herself grew up in a foyer and if she's afraid her child might also have to grow up there. I ask her why she is coming to this city. Something to do with 'picking up her little girl' and I don't understand the rest.
And as I'm rushing to get off the train, feeling guilty, wondering if I should help this young mom instead of trying to leave before she might ask for my help, I wish her a good journey. And a second time, after we've both left the train, I wish her a good journey, genuinely, as if my words have the power to protect her and relieve me of the duty of actually making an effort to help her. She has a particular look in her eye, looking at me, and I wonder if she'll remember me and this encounter as kind or whether I was just another person that ran away from her.
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