A Tribute to Blanche DuBois (Updated)

Thursday lunchtime. Tottenham Court Road.

"I can't do this anymore." My phone slid against my hot, wet cheek. "I just... I can't."

I squeezed my eyes closed as a torrent of fresh tears rushed from them. Leaning up against the cool concrete of a building I listened to my sister's voice and tried to calm down. I pushed my free hand into my chest to try to let my lungs fill with air, but, as so with so many times recently, it did not help.

Breathe.

I willed myself to relax, silently pleading with the tears to stop and the panic to subside. Crouching down, I told my sister I had to go and put the phone back in my bag. I put my swollen face into my shaking hands and despaired. The band around my chest tightened, maliciously refusing to allow any more air to cool my burning lungs. Anxiety settled on me like a lead cloak and frantic worry poked sticky fingers into every part of my brain.

Just breathe.

I stood up again, aware of the gazes of those walking by, eyes flicking inquisitively over my painfully red face and trembling hands. As I thought about going back to the office, about my house and money situations, about everything, I let go and began to break down again.

Please make it stop.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into the concerned face of a blonde woman holding a packet of tissues.

"You alright mate?" she said, warmly. "Have a tissue."

I took one and managed to thank her with a small and embarrassingly piteous sob.

She didn't move away.

"Take the packet" she added, and I hesitated. "Go on, I've got more. Take it."

I did, and she touched my shoulder again.

"It'll be alright, don't worry." She smiled and walked away.

I clutched my tissue in my hand and put the packet in my bag. Taking another breath I turned, and walked off in the opposite direction.

Friday morning, King's Cross Station.

"So, I got on the train, but completely forgot that my Oyster card has run out and needs re-charging."

The ticket inspector looked at me askance.

"So you don't have a valid ticket?"

"Um. No. I went to see my parents last night and got a ticket this morning to West Hampstead because I have a zones one and two Oyster but I forgot that it runs out on Fridays so... No. I don't."

He took my ticket from me and peered at it. He shook his head slowly, and reached to the pocket of his shirt for his notebook and pen. I jumped, the thought of a £20 fine crashing into my brain.

"Oh! No. Please. Please don't give me a ticket. Please. I have had the worst week ever and I... please."

The hot tears sprang to my eyes as they had been doing with alacrity for the last five days. He looked up from his pad, eyebrows raised.

"What happened to you?" he asked, smiling at the passion of my plea.

I stuttered. "Well... I just... I had a... Um..." I put a hand on my chest as the air slowed to a trickle again.

"Hey" he said. "Don't worry. It's OK."

Touching his card to the reader he opened the gates and waved me through.

"Have a good day." he called after me as I walked away.

Friday night. A train from London Euston to Manchester Piccadilly.

"This train is due to arrive in Manchester Piccadilly at 11.29pm."

I looked down at a text message on my phone.

"Sorry baby, I won't be getting in from Liverpool until 12.30. Can you find somewhere to wait? Xx

The two women opposite me watched me as I screwed up my nose in consternation.

"What did he say?" one of them asked.

"Oh, well. I've got about an hour to kill."

The prospect of hanging out delinquently in the echoing train station as the clock clicked past midnight was not an appealing one.

I had been chatting with the women since we had left Euston a couple of hours earlier. One of them was getting married, and they had been to London for a few days to shop for shoes. They were returning triumphant and had been entertaining me with tales of their contrasting shopping experience.

"Before we went to Sloane Square we took ages deciding what outfits to wear! We even gave ourselves pedicures. We couldn't face the thought of a Pretty Woman moment!"

The other woman giggled. "Big mistake! HUGE!" she chimed in, and I laughed as well.

"Then we went to Primark..."

"Oh God" I said, grimacing. "Primark on Oxford Street is hell."

"...it was like everyone was animals! Stuff all over the place and people everywhere! We just stocked up on cheap tops and got out of there!"

I had told them that I was going to Manchester to see my boyfriend, but that he was getting a train back from Liverpool that night so I might have to wait somewhere. They were concerned, and their brows furrowed as they tried to think of places I could wait.

"It's fine" I protested. "I'll wait in the station. There are people about."

This was dismissed as a bad idea, and they continued making suggestions. Maybe a hotel bar? Maybe somewhere in town. Maybe a restaurant.

One of them leant across the table and patted my hand. "Don't worry" she said. "It'll be alright. An hour isn't long."

The train eventually heaved into the destination station. My phone rang as I was attempting to extricate my bag from the rack without damaging myself too severely.

"Hey, I've just arrived! Where can I go?"

Ben dismissed the idea of waiting in the station as well, and suggested a bar near his house in which I could wait. Reassured, I got off the train to find the two women waiting for me.

"What did he say? Where will you wait?"

I told them and they looked at each other and nodded. "You'll be fine there. You're alright, yes?"

I was, and told them so. They headed to collect their car as I called out my thank yous. I turned and headed to find a taxi.

I'm not saying you can always rely on it. Sometimes, though, the kindness of strangers seems like the most magical thing in the world.


UPDATE: Here's a link to the myspace of the production company I have been doing some singing with. (My hyperlink is not working so instead do some cutting and some pasting: www.myspace.com/odeyssey) The track I am on is called Half Full, and Away Days as well. I am responsible for the vocals, meldody and lyrics. It was written to spec, so I would be interested to hear comments.