A story for the lovely HarleyMarie who wrote me a lovely story, The Sand and the Sea.
The short film talked about here is real, in French, easy to watch called "J'attendrai le suivant". It's pretty good, I recommend it.
The subway clattered through the dark bowels of the earth. Elizaveta rocked in its belly, her head knocking annoyingly against the headrest. She held her fat red purse to her lap. Thin white wires climbed out of it, providing her ears with soft music to drawn out the clatter of strangers. Despite her fluffy beige coat and black cotton pants, she was still cold.
Overall, it was not shaping up to be a good evening. She had finished work with a pounding headache and now had an insufferably long subway ride ahead of her. She sighed quietly, shutting her eyes.
(You waste your talent here, Eliza.)
(Do I really?)
(You're a tough, smart girl. Hike up your skirts and get a real job. Use that brain. Don't suffer here, selling bread and sugary candy.)
(I like it here.)
(Do you really? I thought—)
Her thoughts were interrupted by a rattle of metal. She opened her eyes slowly, finding a new passenger sitting on the seat next to her. She ignored him for the most part. Even though his skin was unusually pale and tinged with pink. His eyes were crimson. His hair translucently white. An albino? Elizaveta had never seen a man that had actually possessed that mutation of the pigments. The science part of her brain and the polite part of her brain were in conflict.
"I know I'm pretty damn handsome, but I would prefer if you didn't look at me like that tonight." The man said gruffly.
She tore her eyes away. "Sorry."
"Yeah, I just didn't want you to take a look at me unfiltered."
He smiled, his eyes still pinned to the glowing phone in his lap. The subway lights were harshly fluorescent, drawing long shadows from seat to seat. Elizaveta pulled the earbuds from her ears. The man intended to talk, did he? So be it.
She crossed her legs, leaning back. Her hair was messy, she noticed, and she didn't really care. His hair was a nest. A nice, cool-looking nest. But a home for birds nonetheless.
"Unfiltered? Do you wear make-up often?" She countered.
The man turned his phone off and slipped it into the leather pocket clamped to his side. He favored her with a sidelong glance.
"I'm an actor. Sometimes. I do short films and I get a little bit of money for that. But usually I'm a programmer."
"I'm impressed." Elizaveta said with a smile. She introduced herself and learned the man's name was Gilbert.
They fell silent for a moment, listening to the rushing, guttural noises of the subway and the murmured talk of passengers.
Elizaveta sighed, low and long, releasing the tensions of a long day.
"What kind of movies do you shoot?" She asked.
"The short kind."
She gave him a narrow look. He grinned, chuckling.
"I play any role they give me. Once I was a hand model that broke his fingers and went through a dramatic phase of fits and psychological trauma. Yeah, I didn't work at the best companies." Gilbert shrugged, but grinned wildly as he told it.
This was a man who loved life, no matter what it threw at him.
"No, it sounds interesting. Not like anything I've heard of before." Elizaveta said.
He stared at her.
"What…?" She touched her cheek, wondering if something was there.
Gilbert's lips parted.
"Really?" He breathed.
She nodded.
"Huh." He slumped back.
"What?" She asked against, this time more fiercely.
He stared ahead blankly.
"I think I'm in love."
She glowered. "You just met me."
"I wasn't talking about you." Gilbert scoffed, turning a shade of magenta. "I was talking about this idea! I once saw this short film, called 'I'll Wait for the Next One'. Except it was in French. And it was about this woman searching for love and she got on the train. She met the love of her life and… Well, I don't want to spoil it." He looked shrewd. He picked at the holes in his jeans.
She frowned. "I shall find it, then."
"I say you should." Gilbert said.
"But go on with your idea." She gestured for him to continue.
Gilbert rubbed his dry hands together. The nails were short and broken. "So two people are on a train and have this long discussion. It's one of those films. But as they talk weird things happen around them. I'm in love with it! Isn't it awesome?" He hissed.
"I'd watch it." Elizaveta agreed.
"To see my handsome face?" He pointed at his chin.
Elizaveta rolled her eyes. And, regardless of how annoying he seemed to be, she started to like him.
Her stop pulled up much to soon. In the meantime they talked about all sorts of things that didn't matter much later. It was nice. Nice, calming, and a lovely way to end the long day. The train beeped to a halt. She stood and bade him farewell. She heaved her bag with her, walking calmly down the aisle. He waved her off, with a sad look on his face.
She stepped off the train and watched it fly by in a grayish blue blur. Red signs blinked. She heard the splatter of rain in the overhead world. Why had he looked so sad? She wondered. They would talk again, wouldn't they?
She went to the escalators and started to ascend.
Wouldn't they?
Her eyes widened and her smile snapped.
She didn't have his phone number. She had no way to contact him. She started to run back down the escalators, but a mass of people had congealed. Her heart fell. The escalator came to a stop. She climbed off of it and watched the station forlornly. She turned away and started the long way home.
(Elizaveta)
(This is why I don't belong in a better job. I forget all the important things)
(Wait, Elizaveta.)
(Wait for what? It's too late…)
"Elizaveta!"
She turned, seeing a pale hand above the rest, and red eyes. She smiled warmly.