Unconscious Affection

Quarter to nine, Market Place, Good Friday. The evening was calm and the vernal nocturnal chilliness was starting to become apparent. I boarded the last bus to Europa Point and sat on the rightmost seat at the back, leaning forward so my back wasn’t in contact with the chair. I was listening to music through my headphones.

A few minutes later, a woman boarded with a pram, removed the child from it and sat down, placing her child between us. He must’ve been about three years old and was dressed quite smartly. I wasn’t paying much attention to this chain of events, my mind being on other things, until I felt something touch me. It was the boy patting the side of my back. He patted three of four times, then stopped. I gave him a scowl to disincentivise him from repeating this impolite act and turned to face forward.

After a few seconds, he did it again. I turned around, though this time my expression was different. I smiled at him, thinking that he must’ve just wanted to make a new friend, and that I would probably receive a grin or a giggle in return. Instead, he just continued to stare at me expressionlessly, saying nothing and sucking his dummy, which he continued to do unceasingly.

By now the mother had noticed her son’s errant behavior, so she told him not to continue with his touching. This didn’t seem to have much of an effect, as he did so again. The third time he patted me, I sat back in the chair. I supposed this was to stop him from repeating this mildly annoying action and to get a better look at my new acquaintance. Then he spoke for the first time.

I didn’t catch what exactly he said, so I took off my headphones. I pulled them out through the neck of my shirt, wound them up in my hands and then put them in my pocket. He was transfixed by my every action, and his eyes followed my hands as if they were magnetized, looking on with a sense of awe. He spoke for a second time, saying “Hello”.
“Hello”, I said back, expecting a reply, but none came. Just as with his touching, he just stared back at me, sucking away.

I then looked at the mother. She was on her phone, vigorously texting with both hands without taking her eyes off the screen. She’d been doing this since she sat down. The boy then grabbed at her arm, with which she hugged his legs for about thirty seconds before retracting it to continue her WhatsApp conversation, with the optimal, two-thumbed technique.

At about forty second intervals he’s say “Hello” to me, and I’d reply the same way. This was the only word in his vocabulary apparently. After a few times I replied “How are you?” to which said nothing. This latest exchange must’ve displeased his mum, because the next time he introduced himself with his customary hello, she responded before I could, with “You’ve said hello ja [already]”. He didn’t say anything for quite a while.

I watched him carefully. He grasped for his mother’s arm a few times, and she repeated her temporary half-cuddle. Which inspired me to conduct an experiment. I put my hand into my right pocket and brought my phone out. “Hello!” he said much more loudly, with a look of alarm. I then understood what was going on.

The bus was stationary during all ofthis, but now it began to move. Once more during the journey, I reached for the pocket which held my phone. When he saw this he immediately started patting my side, and I took my hand away from my pocket.

He said hello a few more times, though the rocking of the bus put him to sleep quite quickly. Another mother on the bus commented that he was “out”, to which the boy’s mother started telling her that they’d been “non-stop all day” and that he usually ate much earlier than he had today, etc. She then put her phone in her purse and picked him up to hold in her lap. This woke him, and his eyes opened slightly for a few seconds to meet mine. Then they closed, and he fell asleep.

I waited for them both to get off before I used my phone to take the picture from where I sat.