Lucky Six

On my way back home from San Francisco I stopped for a few days in London. I had planed on seeing a good play, do some shopping, tour the book stores. Instead I became anxious and dazed.

A day and a half later and without much thought, I packed my bag, checked out of the hotel, and stepped out straight into the pouring rain. The hotel was right next to Paddington Station and I ran inside to escape the slashing raindrops.

Standing there, all socked and shivery, my agitation just grew louder, and all I could hear was the sound of my own voice in my head asking, over and over again, what now?

My flight back home was in two days and I had no idea where I was headed.

People passed me by with intent directions and purposeful strides. I felt lost.       

Just calm down, I said to myself (quietly, in my head). Calm down and it’ll come to you.

What if I went with a random platform number? Easier to choose a number then it is to decide on a destination. Right?

I chose the number six. I love the sound of the word rolling on my tongue. Six. And then I remembered reading that every multiplication of the number 6 by 6 will have 6 in it. Random order was just what I needed.

I went over to platform number six, not looking at the departure board and got on the train. Passed a few carts until I found a perfect four seater with a table and I had it all to myself. I set down facing the driving direction, and tucked my bag under the table.

When I leaned to take a book out of my bag I heard a voice saying “is it OK if I sit here?” of course I banged my head straightening up, which turned my face a little red. I looked up and my skin flushed even more to the sight of the smoky blue eyes of my enquirer.

“Sure. Go ahead”.

She sat down and looked at me. “Do you need tissue paper?” she asked, and when I looked at her, puzzled, she smiled and said “you have raindrops on your face”. She handed me some tissues with little drawings of sheep on them and kept on staring at me as I whipped my face.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” she asked

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“The flight from San Francisco to London – I sat across the aisle from you. You were reading ‘Red Audrey and the Roping’. I love that book”.

“So you noticed the book. Not me”

“No…” it was her turn to fluster. “Well, maybe at first”. She paused and then extended her hand and said “I’m Rachel”.

“Shai” I replied.

“As in bashful?”

“As in gift. ‘Shai’ means ‘gift’ in Hebrew”.

She lingered her hand just a little while longer and pulled back as the conductor approached us. She handed her ticket and I purchased mine. Destination: Bath.

An hour and a half passed by as we chatted casually, as two strangers do.

When we arrived in Bath she put her hand on my shoulder and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Perhaps I’ll see you around town” she said as she walked away.

It was a little after 5pm and the quirky guy at the tourist information set me up with a room in a nice B&B. Two hours later I was settled in my room (named after George Eliot) and Rachel’s scent was still with me.

I took a shower and went out to get a bite to eat in a little Italian restaurant recommended by the B&B’s owners (a sweet old couple who where spending the evening reading newspaper segments to each other sitting by the fireplace). I walked through the city’s streets and felt the summery evening breeze on my face, slowly erasing the memory of London’s foggy rain.  

A few minutes after I was seated by the host I glanced over my menu and saw Rachel walking into the restaurant with a cheerful group of friends. Before I could decide on a course of action she spotted me and came over to my table.

“Are you following me?” she asked.

I felt like such a dork but disguised it well “I thought it was the other way around”.

She raised her eyebrows a little, as if my answer caught her by surprise, and then invited me to join her and her friends for dinner. “I promise we won’t bite. Well, depending on how much wine we’ll drink tonight”.

Dinner was lovely. Her friends were warm and welcoming, and the wine and pasta were just what I needed to dissolve the last of my London edginess.       

As the evening wind down everyone said their goodbyes until it was just the two of us again.

What now? Asked the voice in my head.

“Now what?” she asked out loud.

“We can take a walk” I suggested, no doubt influenced by the wine.

“Wonderful”.

Our hands entwined, we walked through the quiet moonlit streets. 

Standing by the B&B Rachel said “I’ve never been to a hotel room in Bath”.

The wine buzz still tingling in my ears, I took her hand and we went inside.

Yes, that was some good wine.

I remember every moment of that night: how she pinned me against the wall outside my room loosening her grip only so that I can open the door; the taste of chocolate mousse and strawberries in our breath; the laughter that turned into moans; how my tongue pressed on the small of her back, tracing her spine all the way up to her neck; her fingers eagerly journeyed all over my body; our heart beats so close we couldn’t tell them apart; and long, voracious, insatiable kisses.

When I woke up the next morning Rachel was gone. Leaving the smell and taste of her on my fingers, and a note:

     “My darling Shai,

     I wasn’t following you yet I’m so happy to have

     found you.

     Till we meet again.

     Rachel.

     P.S. It wasn’t the wine.”            

On the back of the note she scribbled her e-mail address.

Waiting for my flight at the airport, I googled the number six and found that the symbol of the Sex Chakra, Svadhishthana, is a flower with six petals. 

I sent Rachel a message:

     ”Dear Rachel,

     I’m still a little lost for words and so I’ll quote

     someone else’s:

     ‘your slightest look easily will unclose me

     though I have closed my self as fingers,

     you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

     (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose’…

     (E.E. Cummings).

     Thank you for being so skilful with my petals.

     Shai.”

I boarded the plane through gate number six. Lucky, lucky six.

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