Refuge
“Hey Stranger.”
Her mood was more measured today, a sorrowful melody crooned from the single earbud and her face held a wistful expression.
“James.” He offered.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James.” She set the box she carried on the bench between them. “I brought some pastries, not sure if you’re into that sort of thing so I got a few, help yourself to whatever looks good.”
“Thanks, Elle.”
“You remembered, or did you write it down in one of those?” She pointed at his notebook with a donut, sprinkling powdered sugar across the bench.
“Both.” He tried not to look guilty at the admission.
“So, you’re not secretly sketching incredible pictures that put my scribblings to shame?”
“No, no I’m not. My friend Steve does though. Not put you to shame, but sketch.” He said quickly, trying to cover his embarrassment with a croissant.
“Is he good?”
“I think so.”
“Hmm.”
Whether she was satisfied with his answer or the pastry wasn’t clear.
“Why do you listen to music only in one ear?” he asked.
“For the same reason I like this bench. The music keeps me calm in the chaos of the city, helps me not to panic, and I can still hear what’s happening around me with the other ear.”
“Panic?”
“Ptsd.”
“Oh.”
“You?”
“I- I don’t, I’m not-”
“Hey, its ok, coming home, its not easy for anyone.” Her hand had nearly reached to pat his sleeve, but she stopped inches from the vibranium and pulled it back to wrap around herself as though she were suddenly cold. “You don’t have to tell me anything, just… find someone in your life that you can talk to. Ok?”
Steve or Sam had offered so many times, but Bucky shook his head slowly. “Can’t. They already look at me like I’m broken, like I’ll just... blow up or turn to dust at any moment. I’ve caused them enough pain.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but if you want to talk to someone,” she scribbled on the back of a business card. “I know a good counselling service; first consult is free. Talking does help, even if it doesn’t feel like it at first.” She set the card on the bench beside the box of sweets. “Take it, or burn it. I won’t judge.”
She wiped her hands on a napkin and focused on the pad, the coloured pencil scratching at the paper in a familiar soothing way.
Silence battled in him and he finally responded, “thanks.”
“Thank you for the company, James.”
The silence between them didn’t make Bucky antsy this time, it was just the calm of good company, without any expectation or demand.
A watercolour sky over a penciled in prairie meadow, so vivid and warm you could imagine the sun on your face and the breeze in the tall grass.
They both breathed in the image as it dried, the faintest scent of fresh green grass washed over them.
Elle sighed and packed her things, leaving the card and the remaining pastries behind. A soft farewell and a little wave and she was gone.
Bucky’s eyes raked over the remaining pastries and the small rectangular card.
New Leaf therapy services.
He pinned it into his notebook on the page that bore her name.
It took four days of stalking the streets and avoiding the lure of his bench, five nights of relentless flashbacks, and the worried puppy eyes of Steve Rogers at the bags under his eyes.
He called.
“New leaf Center, how can I help you?”
“I- I’m sorry.” He disconnected the call, sliding to the floor of his apartment, his head in his hands.