It was the face of a young girl with quite pale skin and hair that barely reached her shoulders. Her green irises were fixed on a point beyond me. Reaching her left hand forward, she moved her fingers. It was as if she wanted to feel something by touch. Then, my eyes got stuck on the cane in her right hand. Its tip was buried in the grass. The handle was imprisoned between her white, delicate fingers.
"I'm sorry," I whispered timidly; I took a deep breath as the fact that I was talking to a human made my blood flow faster.
With my sentence, the cane in the girl's hand parted from her fingers and hit the ground. While her ribcage rose and fell with rapid breaths and agitation, she slid her irises to the level of my chest, but then she closed them completely.
It was the exact same cane I had seen with a visually impaired friend before; its color was black, but the tips were gray. The gray color wasn't very visible because her fingers were covering it. But... with the level of alertness brought by my condition, I perceived it immediately.
The rain was taking pleasure in soaking us both to our hearts' content.
What I was thinking was whether I should give that cane to her or not. If I tried to help her, it might make her feel inadequate. Therefore, I thought it would be better if she picked up the cane herself.
As she bent her knees and leaned toward the ground, strands of her hair tossed forward. She tried to grasp the cane by roaming her white hands across the ground. She had a face and hands that did not possess a single blemish. I couldn't understand what she was doing here in the middle of the night.
What kind of business could she have in this rain? Who was she?
Perhaps she was just someone with a passion for the rain.
Finally, leaning down, I wanted to push the cane toward her, but I worried that this would be a lowly act. Worry was one of the countless emotions that recurred within me. This time, I decided to put the cane back in its old place. Just as I was about to pull the cane away, my breathing quickened when her hand grasped it.
Her hand was touching the cane close to mine.
Just as I was about to lift my head, my eyes met hers. This time, a change reigned over her face. I didn't know how she managed it. Her lips, which were a single line, curled parabolically from both sides. Some of her white front teeth spilled out. As far as I could discern in the darkness, her lips were a very light pink.
My hand holding the cane loosened; finally, my fingers released it completely, and my hand fell to my side.
"Thank you," she murmured in a calm tone. My hands were shaking, and I knew they would turn ice-cold soon. What overflowed from her green eyes glided like a misty light illuminating this darkness. "I wonder," I asked myself, "could she see this light herself?"
I looked away as if she could see me. It might seem very selfish, but it even relieved me a little that she couldn't see my current state—my hands just trembling like that.
"Have you... before..." The words spilled out of my mouth; they filled my ears like a rain that couldn't cut its speed. While her pinkish lips returned to their normal state, this time they parted to speak. I couldn't understand why every move she made, every movement of her lips, was so striking to me.
"I wasn't here before, I just arrived." The fact that she understood and answered what I wanted to ask before I even said it had cut my excitement.
"To draw... to draw pictures on the walls."
This short little sentence, consisting of fragmented words, brought my fingers back to their previous state. This time, it wasn't just my hands shaking. My whole body was shivering and contracting violently. What should I answer now?
I could only understand why I was shaking in the days to follow. But my reason for shaking at that moment was not related to the strangeness of what she said or my astonishment.
As always, at that moment, I was actually looking for an excuse to get well.
I wonder if God, who wants me to recover, could have sent me a helper? Oh my God, how selfish I am! I am amazed at how I only think of myself and assume everything revolves around me.
"But," when I stammered, she moved her thin, single-line brown eyebrow a bit; while she stood as if wanting to measure what I would say, she was clutching the hem of her floral dress with her free hand. How well the dress suited her, and how it was noticed despite the night.
"But what?" she said with an unexpected move.
"There is rain, how will you draw? Besides, you'll get wet; why didn't you do it in the morning but came now?" I asked with all my outspokenness.
It was the first moment I had interfered in a matter that did not concern me.
"I love drawing at night, I can manage the rain," she explained in a calm voice. It was as if this rain hadn't soaked her eyelashes, as if it wasn't she who was getting wet, as if it wasn't she who heard this piercing sound of the sky.
She didn't mind the rain; perhaps she had come specifically for the rain, she wasn't saying.
"Then let me bring an umbrella," I said.
"An umbrella? Is there an umbrella in the clinic? Don't make me laugh, Bulut!" I thought to myself.
"No, I must draw," she said with the same calmness. No one would understand this haste of hers, and neither would I. In the shadow of her face and eyes, where a residue of sadness had coiled, everything regarding life mixed into the waters of the rain and flowed away.
"Hold an umbrella in one hand and draw with the other," I made a suggestion.
"You don't have an umbrella, Bulut!" I reminded myself once more.
I must have been losing my mind.
The navy blue t-shirt on me was quite soaked and a chill was hitting my skin, but I didn't care. Every single thing, every piece of thought in my head, had fled to its nest.
"How can I draw like that? I wouldn't feel comfortable..."
In a moment, I would have to go inside. I thought that if she suddenly accepted the umbrella offer, I wouldn't be able to do it and would be telling a lie.
"I must draw somehow," she continued, assuming a complete determination.
"Well, I mean... yes... what can I say... great, draw, it would be good."
When I realized what a ridiculous and meaningless sentence I had formed, I wanted to turn my back and leave. But at that moment, I was burning with the desire to ask her something. I heard a small smile spill from her lips; when I looked at her face fearfully, I felt that she looked quite sincere this time.
Her previous shyness had dissipated. Or that was how I saw it. What could have changed compared to a moment ago, when no event had taken place?
"Boya ," she murmured. I brought my hand to the back of my neck and rubbed it for a few seconds. She had extended her hand toward me, but not exactly in front of me—rather toward a direction she couldn't quite determine. At that moment, I felt that acting by seeing was a great stroke of luck. I was flustered again and continued to talk nonsense.
"I don't know where it is, I mean where did you put it... I mean, where could it be? Sorry, let me find it... No, no, you find it, that's best."
Finally, I nodded my head, approving myself, but I couldn't help myself when she started laughing. The thoughts in my head had swarmed around me again.
"What were you laughing at? Oh, you can laugh if you want, of course, I'm sorry for asking that." Finally, I agreed with myself about running away from here. Just as I was about to turn on my feet, our eyes met with the nurse, but I had to stop suddenly at the girl's speaking.
"My name, I'm saying; my name is Boya."
This... I knew the name of this.
This was an encounter.
End of Chapter