© TI MEDIA LIMITED, 2020. PHOTO: ALAMY
B
y tonight?!’ I gasp to my boss. ‘Sorry, Emily. Management wants us all to attend this productivity course tomorrow. But they still want this first thing Wednesday.’ What a great Monday. ‘How can I do that when I’m losing a day on training?’ My colleague shrugs sympathetically at me. ‘I’m taking my lunch now,’ I say, slamming my laptop shut. ‘I need fresh air. I’m going out.’ He looks surprised. ‘You never take lunch normally. Besides, it’s raining.’ But I grab my coat and head across the road, into the park. Scowling, I stomp the wet pathways, my bad mood surrounding me like a cloud. Of course, it’s when I’m in the centre of the park that rain hits monsoon levels. I dash for the Edwardian bandstand. Rain drums on the roof. Above its rhythm, I become aware of footsteps running up behind me. ‘That was sudden, wasn’t it?’ A man, seemingly around my own age, joins me. I stare at rain-lashed, leafless trees. ‘I’m Luke,’ he says. ‘Hi.’ I don’t give my name. There’s an awkward pause, while I wish he’d go away. ‘You know, in a way it’s beautiful,’ Luke says. ‘Yeah, right.’ ‘Soothing – like a meditation background tape.’ Great. Of all people to be stuck with, it’s someone who’s enjoying Miserable Monday. I move back. He must have noticed, because he steps away and gets out his phone. ‘Not what the weather forecast said…’ His eyes sparkle and they’re very blue. It’s such a ridiculous comment, I can’t help but laugh. ‘That’s better,’ Luke smiles.
RAINY DAYS and Mondays The last thing she wanted on this miserable day was to be waylaid by a strangerÉ
‘We British are comfortable talking weather, aren’t we?’ I relax. He’s cute and we’re not isolated: the park is full of people rushing by. I’m only not joining them because I spent hours straightening my hair. ‘Seriously,’ Luke says. ‘See how the bandstand’s light glows on rain spilling over the roof – like an illuminated fountain in Las Vegas.’ ‘But not as glamorous,’ I laugh. ‘Have you been?’ ‘Nope. But I will one day.’ ‘Me, too.’ There’s a pause while we digest this common ground. ‘Warmer there, too.’ Luke nods like I’ve said something profound. I laugh again and so does he. It feels lovely after all the office stress. It’s an oddly intimate situation, enclosed as we are by the rain curtain – a barrier we could cross any time. ‘I’m Emily,’ I volunteer. ‘Great to meet you, Emily. Now, your turn. Find something beautiful about today.’ ‘Oh, please! What are you? A psychologist or something?’
‘Just someone who learnt to train his mind to see the good.’ ‘That’s very deep,’ I giggle, embarrassed by his seriousness. I mean, I barely know the bloke. I’m not up for a life-the-universe-andeverything conversation. ‘Not really. I had an accident a few years back – made me review everything. That’s when I decided to start looking on the bright side.’ I resist the temptation to launch into the Monty Python song, because he looks so genuine. Then his serious face disappears and he grins. ‘Anyway, don’t change the subject. Your turn to find something beautiful in this rain-sodden park.’ ‘OK… the berries on that bush. They’re sparkly, with the raindrops on them.’ ‘That’s good. Now close your eyes.’ ‘What? No!’ I squeak. Way too weird! ‘Two seconds,’ he says. I can’t explain why, but I trust him. Anyway, he’s hardly
Short story oing to pounce and ag-snatch in two seconds. At once, I’m aware f stuff I wasn’t before: irdsong; a sweet scent. ‘What’s that smell?’ I ask. ‘Great, isn’t it? I think s the bush with the pink owers. I love the ones at bloom in winter.’ ‘The optimists?’ We laugh. He’s cute, I think – but still a total stranger. The downpour is easing. ‘Look,’ I say. ‘I’d better go.’ ‘To work?’ ‘Yeah.’ I nod towards the building, where my laden desk awaits. ‘Well, I’ll probably see you tomorrow, then.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘I’m running a course there: Mindfulness and Productivity. I was going there when the rain started,’ he says. ‘No offence, but if it’s all “stop-and-stare” stuff, I don’t think our management will be impressed. They think the course is about productivity.’ ‘Most of my company’s clients don’t know what mindfulness is, but they like the results. Their staff are more productive.’ ‘Your company?’ ‘Yeah. I set it up when I got well again.’ ‘So you’re a bit of an evangelist?’ I tease him. He laughs. ‘I hope not quite as scary.’ The smile we share is like a physical link that I don’t nt to break. Must go,’ I say. See you tomorrow, then!’ As I stride back across the et park, I do feel better. Maybe there’s something this mindfulness stuff. Or aybe it’s the thought of ending the whole day with ke tomorrow that’s brought ch a smile to my face? THE END Lydia Jones, 2020 Woman’s Weekly
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