Valentine’s Day finally arrived. In my four years of teaching in the Tokyo University, it somehow became a tradition that my students would ask me to tell the story about how I met a stranger on a train. I think their curiosity came from their senpais’ stories who took my class from the previous semesters since I first narrated the tale as an example of an autobiographical report. Semester after semester, the reactions that I got were always the same. Right now, I find it amusing that my new batch of students are making goo goo eyes at me to tell that story… Again. Shaking my head, I comfortably sat on my desk like I oftentimes do during class discussion and began my narration. Here goes: ------------------------------------------------- It was chilly Tuesday afternoon during Valentine’s Day. While everyone that I knew was busy for their dates, I on the other hand visited my parents in Chiba for two weeks for some family bonding time before I head back to Tokyo. I boarded a steam engine train heading back to the city and as always, took the window seat and smiled at my mom and dad who was waving goodbye at me as the train chugged out of the station. I huffed at the now frost covered window and drew a smiling face with my finger. Instead of pondering how cold it gets during February, I recalled an incident at a bookstore in our local mall: I had reserved a set of the hardbound limited edition Twilight Saga prior to my arrival to my hometown, but a newly hired staff accidentally sold it to somebody else. Call me childish but after listening to the manager’s constant apologies, I ran to the ladies’ room to cry. It’s silly, I know. Don’t remind me. I giggled and smiled at the thought but immediately put on a straight face before the other people inside the train thought I had a screw loose somewhere inside my head. A girl sat beside me, but I hardly paid attention as I still thought of the Twilight books I could’ve bought and the missed opportunities of reading it at my own pace. She shyly tapped my shoulder and asked whether the train is en route to Tokyo. I found the question dumb because I know she could’ve checked the schedule before actually boarding the train, so I just nodded my head a little while still looking at the scenery out of the window. At that time, I prayed to the gods that I was able to send the I’m-not-interested-to-talk-thank-you-very-much message across. As the train clanked noisily on its rails and the ticket collector started making his way to every passenger aboard, I realized that I wasn’t able to buy my ticket ahead of time before the train left the station. The girl beside me said that the collector must have thought that we were travelling together and waved two tickets in front of my face that he gave her. I was about to wreak havoc and make it snow in hell, but when I turned to look at her... Ara, I even forgot how Dante Alighieri pictured Inferno. She was so beautiful. She had long eyelashes that made me wonder if it’s longer than mine. Her eyes were adorable. Lips, pink coated with lip gloss. Her left dimple, simply kawaii. For a split-second I was captivated, but I pulled myself together. She handed me one of the tickets which I immediately declined. “Oh no,” I said in protest, adding my two cents that she should’ve told the ticket collector that we were not travelling together. I imagined that she would react like any ordinary person would after I just declined her offer. Much to my dismay, she merely just blinked at me and said “Gomen…” with her gentle voice. When the ticket collector finally passed by our aisle, I politely informed him that the girl was not with me. The collector scratched his head comically in apology and took the other ticket on the girl’s hand and asked me if I’m bound to Tokyo. I nodded my head in response. Inspecting the ticket, he handed the same ticket to me and said that he issued it as a one-way trip ticket to my destination. Great. It made me realize that the girl beside me was headed to Tokyo as well. After we awkwardly paid for our individual fares, the girl talked to me again. Seriously, people don’t get a clue easily these days. “So, you’re heading for Tokyo too, right?” she asked. “Hai,” I answered. “Do you live there?” “Yes, and I teach there.” “Sugoi! Are you an elementary teacher perhaps? Which school?” Her question actually made me a bit sad. I sarcastically looked at her and said, “I teach college students!” She let out a sheepish laugh and apologized. I made a long face at her reaction and looked out the window, wishing that we’ll arrive in Tokyo if I clicked my heels three times like Dorothy did in the Wizard of Oz movie. The stranger decided to hold a Q&A session. She asked what I was doing in Chiba wherein I should be out with a date on Valentine’s Day. I don’t know what’s gotten into me when I honestly told her that I was on a vacation leave to visit my parents. “So, you already told me that you’re a college instructor… what subject?” she asked. “Comparative Literature.” I answered immediately. “Ano… Compara-what?” I didn’t bother to explain. I exasperatedly smiled because I know that even my students would find it difficult explaining it to someone who doesn’t even know how to say the program’s name within a millisecond. With only two more stations before we reach Tokyo, she still managed to slip a few more questions that I reluctantly, but immediately answered. “Did you give Valentine’s chocolates to someone when you were younger?” she asked. It was a random, but seemingly appropriate question for that day’s celebration. “Actually, I never really gave chocolates to anyone. How about you?” I can’t believe that she somehow managed to engage me in this conversation! “In my case, I gave chocolate to the same girl when I was in Grade 1 until Grade six.” Girl you say? That was interesting. Another kindred spirit, perhaps? I found it funny that the more she asked questions and the more I answered every one of them, the more I realized that she seemed to be genuinely interested. After a period of silence, I asked her how old she was, mainly because she’s lacking in the height department and looked like a high school student flirting with a young college instructor. When she said she’s 20 and that her birthday is in April the same year I was born, my eyes widened in surprise. “Nani?! You’re just three months older than me!” I said, and we actually had a good laugh. As we passed by different sceneries while the sun sets slowly in the west, we talked about different things that I honestly cannot recall anymore. We began talking as if we had known each other for a long time. Somewhere before arriving at the Tokyo station, my tummy ached and I whispered “I’m hungry,” while staring at the window. She somehow heard this (not my stomach, hopefully) and suggested that we should have dinner. My answer was instantaneous – No. Talking to a complete stranger was enough, dining with her would have been too much. As the train slowed to a stop at our destination, she offered again. I said I have an early class the next day. She insisted. I tried it again. I added that I still had lessons to prepare. She insisted… again. Rolling my eyes for the umpteenth time, I said that my roommate would probably be waiting on me in our apartment and I didn’t want to keep her waiting. (Well, I really did have a roommate, but the waiting part is a lie.) Hearing our ticket collector make a final reminder that we’ve finally arrived in Tokyo, she smiled and stood up. Grabbing her backpack, she looked at me again and asked, “Are you sure? My treat.” I caved. “Fine. Sure.” We got off the train and had dinner and coffee somewhere in Omotesando. I admitted to myself that the excitement of meeting a stranger had been growing inside me and talking to her seemed to be a most comforting experience. Perhaps, it’s because of her voice. I wasn’t really sure back then. I imagined that we were characters in a story and I was the author. I decided for our story to end and told her that I really had to go. She immediately took out a pen from her backpack and scribbled her mobile phone number on a table napkin and pushed it on the table towards me. “What am I supposed to do with that?” I deadpanned. She looked hurt. A gust of wind carried the napkin and I was shocked that she went after it like a kid. I felt cruel, that when she finally got back to our table, I grabbed the napkin and went out of the café with her behind me. I frantically waved for a taxi and climbed in without saying goodbye. As soon as I arrived in our apartment, my roommate/best friend Oshima Yuko was already home, reading a textbook. I told her about my random rendezvous with a stranger on a train and laughed about it. For some time, Yuko and I managed to forget about my Valentine’s Day adventure. Three weeks have passed. I was cleaning my room when I saw the table napkin she had given me. I sat on my bed and decided to finally text the number. Thanks for the coffee… and dinner. It only took a couple of seconds when I received her reply: Atsuko-san?! Yokatta! I’ve been waiting for your text! Ano… would you like to have dinner with me again sometime? Wow, she must’ve been REALLY interested in me, I thought. A week after that, I agreed to meet with her again. The end. ------------------------------------------------- I crinkled my nose devilishly as my students gaped at me. At this point, they roared all together and rapidly asked what happened next. It’s always the same reaction every semester. God, I love being an annoying teacher at times like this. I laughed at my students’ antics, milking every second that they pleaded for me to continue. I glanced at the door on the far end of my lecture hall and saw a very familiar figure leaning against the door frame, laughing at me. A collective groans of disappointment came out of the mouths of my pupils as the bell rang, just when I was about to continue with my story. Saved by the bell as always. I herded my class out of the hall after reminding them about their homework due tomorrow. Once the last of them finally went out, the person standing at the back of the hall slowly walked towards me and clapped her hands in amusement. “Atsuko, I don’t think I’d get tired of hearing you tell that same experience over and over again, especially on Valentine’s Day.” She gently said. Yes, that familiar figure was none other than the stranger I met on a train – Takahashi Minami. Today, we’re going out to dinner to celebrate Valentine’s Day and for her passing the Tokyo Bar Exam. I smiled at her as I glanced at my engagement and wedding ring that is snugly fit on my left ring finger. This year, we are celebrating our fourth year as a couple. I suddenly remembered the day when she clumsily, yet sweetly proposed at me and how she jumped for joy when I said “Yes”. But the most memorable memory for me was the time when I whole-heartedly accepted and added her last name to my full name. Takahashi-Maeda Atsuko. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Hands entwined, we walked out of the lecture hall and headed out to the parking lot. I tilted my head and suddenly thought of a question that has been nagging me for years but hasn’t really asked her. “I can hear the gears in your head turning Atsuko. What are you thinking about?” Minami asked. She knows me too well. “Ne Minami, I remember that the train wasn’t really full the first time we met on the train four years ago so… why did you sit beside me that time?” I asked. Finally stopping in front of our parked car, Minami placed a gentle kiss on my left hand. “The reason why I sat beside you on the train on that fateful Valentine’s Day afternoon… is because you were smiling.” Fin.