Irene drifted into the party like a whisper, the most unremarkable guest at Emilys eighteenth birthday. The two girls were classmates at a city college, their lives tangled like ivy on a stone wall.
Emily flung open the invitation with a grand sweep, urging everyone who could make it to turn up, yet many of the girls were heading back to their country cottages for the weekend. Irene, shy and softspoken, dared to seize the offer.
She didnt go out much, and she had only just turned eighteen, just as Emily had. Still, the thought of celebrating her own day with strangers felt like stepping into a cold rivershe stayed home.
She had no friends, and her parents coaxed her to spend the evening in the familiar nest of the family home, beside her grandmother and grandfather.
Here it is, she thought, a birthday that feels halfforgotten, whether its five or eighteen.
She loved her kin, but the ticking of the clock left her wondering when she would finally become an adult, when a boy might notice her quiet beauty, her gentle grace.
Irene dreamed of love, yet shied away from herself. She wasnt as bright as Emily, nor as flamboyant as Claire, their other friend who painted her hair neon and strutted through lectures in daring outfits, drawing the lecturers disapproving glances.
Irenes wardrobe was always chosen by her mother, the sweaters knitted by her grandmother. She felt slighted that the greatgranddaughter hardly ever wore them. She could only slip into those oldfashioned cardigans at home, and then only in winter, when the frost seeped through the panes.
That evening, the college crowd gathered at Emilys flattwelve lads in total. When the feast dwindled and the music swelled, Irene slipped out of the apartment and perched on a bench outside the stairwell. No one even noticed her departure. She blushed at the strangers, though they had never looked at her anyway; perhaps that was the deepest ache.
She glanced at her watch.
Perhaps I should be going, she mused. Mother will be worrying. I promised I wouldnt be late
Suddenly a boy emerged from the landing, not one of Emilys guests. He sat on the edge of the bench and stared sadly at the secondfloor windows where laughter and cheerful tunes floated upward.
Are you from there? he asked Irene, pointing at Emilys window. She nodded toward the glow.
And hows Emily? Dancing? Having fun? he pressed, his eyes clouded.
This time Irene dared to answer:
Cant you hear? Yes, theyre laughing.
Exactly. Thats what birthdays are for, the boy replied, his voice low. I spent my day alone, just tea and cake with my family, like a child in a nursery.
Irene raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Its the same for me, she said. Are you her friend? She nodded toward the windows again.
Both and neither, he said. Id love to be friends with her, but she never notices menot even on her birthday. Weve been neighbours for ages; she sees the way I treat her.
He fell silent. Irene sighed, understanding. Then she spoke:
Dont worry. Im feeling the same way. Whats the point? No one sees us anyway. I left, and no one saw. So Im an invisible personpresent, yet absent, and it seems nobody cares.
Dont say that, the boy tried to soothe her. Youre right, there are people like usunlucky, perhaps.
No, she corrected. Unnoticed, unobtrusive. Maybe thats a kind of freedom, a quiet independence.
Do you think? he asked, intrigued. Im Paul, by the way. And you are?
Irene.
They lingered, listening to the distant music, occasionally glancing at the windows, both hoping Emily would appear and summon them to the dance floor. But no invitation came.
Its been nice meeting you, Irene said politely, but I must head home. I promised not to linger.
Let me walk you a bit, at least to the bus stop, Paul offered.
They strolled through the park, talking and smiling without thinking. Paul felt a sudden warmth: a blush blooming on Irenes cheeks, tiny dimples deepening, her eyes flickering as she brushed her long lashes away.
He began to tell amusing anecdotes from his youth, each story a thread trying to catch her bright, ringing laugh, hoping to keep her close a little longer.
At the stop, Irene thanked Paul and prepared to board. She missed the first bus by a hair, boarding the second instead.
As the bus pulled away, she waved at Paul as if they were old companions. He lingered on the curb, rooted to the spot, enchanted by the girl with expressive eyes and cheek dimplemarks.
Paul turned and walked back to his flat, then realized he desperately wanted to see Irene again. He hadnt taken her number or addresshow could he? It felt awkward, as if the world itself had shifted.
The next morning Paul awoke, sprinted up the stairs of Emilys block, and knocked on her door.
Emily opened, a faint smirk on her lips.
What now, Paul? Im not going out with you again, Pash. she said. I told you so.
No, I I wanted to ask you something, Paul stammered. I need the number of your classmate. She was here yesterday. I have to give her something she left on a bench. Could you give me her phone?
Whose? Emily asked, puzzled.
Her name is Irene.
Irene? Which Irene? Emily thought for a moment. Ah, Irie right! Hold on.
A few minutes later Emily handed Paul a slip of paper.
On Romeo. Little Irie, quiet as a mouse When did she leave it? Emily smiled and shut the door.
Paul clutched the note like a talisman and hurried home. All day he rehearsed words, his heart a drumbeat. As evening fell, he called Irene.
He invited her for another walk, promising icecream. To his astonishment, Irene accepted, her voice over the line softer and sweeter than any dream.
They met in the park, shared cones, and discovered their tastes and quirks mirrored each other.
Now its my turn to invite you, Irene said as they parted, a mischievous grin on her lips. Next time, not the parklets go to the cinema. What do you say?
From that moment Irene and Paul never slipped apart. They frequented films, museums, and after a year they began travelling together, soon being spoken of as the engaged couple.
Two years after their first encounter they married.
Irenes mother complained that her daughter was marrying far too young, while her grandmother cooed, Well done, dear. Youve found your destiny and settled down. No need to swap suitors now. With a lad like Paul, youll have a good husbandhell look after you as if you were his own child. What more could you ask for?
The quiet ones always surprise us, their classmates whispered. She was the first to walk down the aisle, and hes glowing like a lantern.
Both glowed, having found in each other the understanding, care, and love theyd once imagined only in sleep.
Years later they smiled, remembering that bench by the stairs, the place where an invisible thread had woven their lives together forever.
Leave a Reply