May 2024: Limp - Rosemary Stride
Limp
It was the limp that made me look up. For half an hour or more I’d watched a succession of feet walking past, dissecting my study of the concrete. Purposeful feet in trainers pounding the footpath for the most part; an occasional child skipping, hopping or showing off a new pair of bright wellies; tattooed teenage feet slapping rubber thongs. I knew I should rouse myself, push my body up off the bench and walk home, but until that moment I’d felt unable to move.
Average height, dark hair streaked with grey, wearing a navy fleece and disappearing off to my right along the path. His left leg swung out to the side as he stepped forward, stiff, only the ball of his foot making contact with the path. I recognised that gait. It was the way my dad walked. Dearest Dad, who’d had polio as a child. Rare to see it these days — everyone is vaccinated. Well, almost everyone. I was curious. Where did this man come from? Where had he been? Had he just been unlucky?
Four weeks ago the boss told me my services were no longer required. Business was slow, he said, and he had to lay people off — the two oldest sales assistants as it turned out.
Past our use-by date. And maybe he’s right. Been alone for years now, and the grandchildren are growing up, living their own lives. Wonder what I’m still here for. Looking for another job seems a waste of time so every morning I walk to the esplanade and gaze out to sea. Or at the concrete. Just a blur — until that limp caught my attention and, for the first time in weeks, I found myself thinking about something other than myself. I wanted to talk to the man, hear his story.
“Morning,” I offered as he passed my bench the next morning.
A nod, an uncertain smile. Weather-beaten, a deep tan.
“Lovely day,” was my next attempt.
“Indeed.” A real smile that time. Crooked teeth, crow’s feet crinkling the corners of brown eyes.
Yesterday, he greeted me. “Beat you to it,” he grinned.
I laughed. “This is getting to be a daily ritual.”
“Same time tomorrow, then.” He waved, and limped off.
*
Tomorrow is today now. To my right the path is empty. I squint into the distance — nothing; I scan the people out on the mudflats — no sign of him. Feeling stupid, I reconsider the concrete, shrink back into my cocoon and stare into a grey future.
“Mind if I share the bench with you?”
I jump. He’s come from the other direction; taken me by surprise.
“Please. I’m Margie, by the way.” I hold out my hand.
“Tom.” He takes my hand, briefly, then sits. Pointing at his stiff, outstretched leg he laughs: “Never thought this would turn out to be my lucky charm.”
Blood rises, warming my neck, flooding my cheeks. Embarrassment overwhelms me. But my heart is racing and the clouds are lifting.
Rosemary Stride
Right Left Write’s May prompt was Romance.
Find out more about Right Left Write at www.queenslandwriters.org.au/rightleftwrite.
The competition’s June prompt is Children’s Writing.
Right Left Write’s May prompt was Romance.