tagbert
03-09-2004, 02:03 PM
I slid along the crimson-carpeted floor of the train, wavering slightly as though I were walking the deck of a ship on the open sea. My movement had never been smooth but I found it surprisingly difficult to keep my balance. Left hand clutching the covering of an equally crimson seat, I fell into it with a distinct lack of grace and sighed with relief. Safe once more, I looked around, and my eyes caught those of a rather hawk-nosed woman sitting across from me. She glared at me from through her antique spectacles, down her beak-like nose and I slumped in my seat. Who was she to dislike me so? Shrugging inwardly, and maintaining what I hoped was a sufficiently nonchalant expression, I deigned to look out the window.
The train really was moving quite fast, scenery flew by almost faster than my eyes could make it out. I watched intrigued as lush grass and dense forests faded to yellowing fields faded to burnt plains with a stench of death. Then the field dropped away abruptly; open air and rattling din indicating a shaky wooden bridge. My stomach lurched in time with the train’s bumps and I turned back sickly to the woman, who…
Was now an old man? He eyed me inquisitively before speaking softly, “Hello.” I jumped in spite of myself and greeted him. “Did you happen to see where that woman went, she was just here a moment ago?” He gave me another quizzical look and shook a grizzled head. “I didn’t see any woman sitting here.” I glanced at him with suspicion hopefully concealed. The old man looked honest though. Oh well. If he didn’t see, he didn’t see.
I tilted the picture of my mother up and my father’s friend sighed. “I don’t ‘member much, ‘kay? I barely knew your dad at the time and her less. She was a good woman, I s’pose, seemed intelligent, nice, nev’r said much to offend no one.” “And she died giving birth?” I breathed, slamming the picture back on the mantle. He took a deep breath, “Yeah, s’not anyone’s fault really, just sorta thing that happens, ‘specially not yours.” My father wandered in the room, “C’mon Bill, let’s not be givin’ my son upsettin’ things to worry over now.” And before either of us could reply, he put an arm over Bill’s shoulder and they left. I wasn’t upset, not really. I never had a chance to meet her, I knew her for but a moment and then she was gone.
“My daughter would be of an age,” he broke the silence first. “She quite likes shuffleboard, have you played?” I grinned, and relaxed; he was as innocent as he seemed. As we talked, I learned more about this kindly old man – Owen was his name – and we had some lively discussions. Owen was headed for Frankfort – was that in the same direction as Cincinnati? – to visit his family, and he couldn’t stand planes. I had to agree whole heartedly – planes are even more unbalanced than trains – and cars were far too slow. We exchanged phone numbers, and I sincerely hoped that we would meet again, it was rare that I met new friends, especially ones who had so much age on me.
The stewardess stopped by our seats and I was shocked to realize that it was already almost time for dinner. Time flies, the proverb asserted. She left with our brief orders and I had only turned back to Owen when she returned with our drinks. A jolt hit the train as I grasped my soggy paper mug, poor substitute for a real mug unfortunately, and the coffee sprayed all over my sweater. Cursing silently, I grabbed a tissue and began dabbing in vain at the liquid saturating my clothes. But this was no job for mere Kleenex. “Owen do, you have a….?” I asked the old man and noticed he was no longer in his seat.
I glanced up at the stewardess, still mumbling her apologies, “Excuse me, did you see where my friend went?” She gave me an odd look – similar to the one Owen had given me – and opened her mouth. “He got off at the last stop,” she stuttered, “just said something about family and left.” The last stop. It occurred to me that the train had not stopped since I boarded…since…I couldn’t actually remember when that was. The cold coffee soaked sweater pressed against my chest, reminding me of the urgency, and I stumbled to my feet to find a washroom.
“Don’t argue with me boy, I can look after myself, dun’t need no brat telling me…” my father staggered drunkenly across the floor, oddly ending up slightly behind where he had started. I stood there motionless, watching him without a word, though my cheeks still burned from the heated words just exchanged. He staggered again, alcohol spilled over the front of his undershirt, and his eyes unfocussed, glancing around the room in spins wild enough to make anyone queasy. His feet moved clumsily, and his lips opened without a sound. His eyes were fearful now, the anger melted as quickly as it had been sparked. Knees buckling, my father fell to the floor with a loud reverberation and lay there. I don’t remember moving, but there I was, kneeling at his side to no avail, watching tearfully as his eyes began to glaze.
I stared in the mirror intensely, searching for stray coffee patches that may have escaped my notice. My vigorous cleaning had left water all along the clean metal walls and I watched with feigned interest as a droplet of water was wandering warily down the mirrored surface, leaving but a small trail to remember its passage. It weaved across the smooth glass, picking up speed, twisting crazily now. As it reached the zenith of its journey, it shattered in frenzy upon the frame. I was left looking at a wet trail on glass, red, as it dully reflected my hair, and fading fast.
My seat was foreign when I sat down again and I felt like a soldier returning from a war, with everything and nothing changed. I laughed bitterly inside at such a poor analogy, and the woman sitting across me – when did she arrive? - gave me a quizzical look. Must have been the popular look today. That quelled my amusement. My face constantly changing expression triggered a titter from the woman – she was really no more than a girl? – across from me. The titter escalated into a laugh and I joined in until several people from further down the train looked over questioningly. We stopped laughing and looked each other in the eye.
“Come on Lara, you don’t mean it?” I asked jokingly, though I no longer felt any amusement. “Your parents must live, I mean, Lara, don’t they live in Cincinnati?” At this point I realized that the conversation was dead serious, and the point Lara had been trying to make for the past hour sank in. “You….y-y-you….ARE g-going?” I stuttered as she nodded solemnly. “It’s only a short visit, don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.” I beamed at her and she smiled weakly back, her hair falling in her eyes. “Well, I’ll see you off then, the sooner you’re gone, the sooner you get back.” Giggling to myself, and without waiting for a response, I bounded enthusiastically towards the door with her luggage in hand. Lara would only be gone a couple of weeks. Just a couple weeks. Only two weeks. Just two….
Years, it seemed like, as we stared at each other. Then she started laughing again and I ducked my head to hide my smile. Just as suddenly, her face turned serious again. “Listen, I’ll be right back, I’m just going to tell my Uncle I’m switching seats.” “OK, Ashley,” I began –how did I know her name? - but looking up, she was gone. I leaned back frustrated, almost falling from my seat with the swaying of the train, but righted myself just before I collided with the floor.
I sat there looking smug for no apparent reason a few moments longer, then went in search of Ashley. As I stood, I lurched violently to one side as the train encountered turbulence – is it called turbulence on a train? – and headed in the direction she left in. The train lurched again, and I stumbled awkwardly on the crimson décor pooled on the floor, plummeting against the window. My nose pressed against glass marred by a streak of crimson blood, I looked out upon the desolate countryside. It squealed rather loudly and the world shifted around me. Or, it tilted, per se. The floor was up now, and I gazed at the crimson matting that I had just been standing on. The floor – the ceiling? – lurched again, and I gazed far out the window, watching as the earth rushed up to greet me. I greeted it in turn, a small smile beginning to dawn on my face. The squeal climaxed, my eyes flashed, and we embraced.
The train really was moving quite fast, scenery flew by almost faster than my eyes could make it out. I watched intrigued as lush grass and dense forests faded to yellowing fields faded to burnt plains with a stench of death. Then the field dropped away abruptly; open air and rattling din indicating a shaky wooden bridge. My stomach lurched in time with the train’s bumps and I turned back sickly to the woman, who…
Was now an old man? He eyed me inquisitively before speaking softly, “Hello.” I jumped in spite of myself and greeted him. “Did you happen to see where that woman went, she was just here a moment ago?” He gave me another quizzical look and shook a grizzled head. “I didn’t see any woman sitting here.” I glanced at him with suspicion hopefully concealed. The old man looked honest though. Oh well. If he didn’t see, he didn’t see.
I tilted the picture of my mother up and my father’s friend sighed. “I don’t ‘member much, ‘kay? I barely knew your dad at the time and her less. She was a good woman, I s’pose, seemed intelligent, nice, nev’r said much to offend no one.” “And she died giving birth?” I breathed, slamming the picture back on the mantle. He took a deep breath, “Yeah, s’not anyone’s fault really, just sorta thing that happens, ‘specially not yours.” My father wandered in the room, “C’mon Bill, let’s not be givin’ my son upsettin’ things to worry over now.” And before either of us could reply, he put an arm over Bill’s shoulder and they left. I wasn’t upset, not really. I never had a chance to meet her, I knew her for but a moment and then she was gone.
“My daughter would be of an age,” he broke the silence first. “She quite likes shuffleboard, have you played?” I grinned, and relaxed; he was as innocent as he seemed. As we talked, I learned more about this kindly old man – Owen was his name – and we had some lively discussions. Owen was headed for Frankfort – was that in the same direction as Cincinnati? – to visit his family, and he couldn’t stand planes. I had to agree whole heartedly – planes are even more unbalanced than trains – and cars were far too slow. We exchanged phone numbers, and I sincerely hoped that we would meet again, it was rare that I met new friends, especially ones who had so much age on me.
The stewardess stopped by our seats and I was shocked to realize that it was already almost time for dinner. Time flies, the proverb asserted. She left with our brief orders and I had only turned back to Owen when she returned with our drinks. A jolt hit the train as I grasped my soggy paper mug, poor substitute for a real mug unfortunately, and the coffee sprayed all over my sweater. Cursing silently, I grabbed a tissue and began dabbing in vain at the liquid saturating my clothes. But this was no job for mere Kleenex. “Owen do, you have a….?” I asked the old man and noticed he was no longer in his seat.
I glanced up at the stewardess, still mumbling her apologies, “Excuse me, did you see where my friend went?” She gave me an odd look – similar to the one Owen had given me – and opened her mouth. “He got off at the last stop,” she stuttered, “just said something about family and left.” The last stop. It occurred to me that the train had not stopped since I boarded…since…I couldn’t actually remember when that was. The cold coffee soaked sweater pressed against my chest, reminding me of the urgency, and I stumbled to my feet to find a washroom.
“Don’t argue with me boy, I can look after myself, dun’t need no brat telling me…” my father staggered drunkenly across the floor, oddly ending up slightly behind where he had started. I stood there motionless, watching him without a word, though my cheeks still burned from the heated words just exchanged. He staggered again, alcohol spilled over the front of his undershirt, and his eyes unfocussed, glancing around the room in spins wild enough to make anyone queasy. His feet moved clumsily, and his lips opened without a sound. His eyes were fearful now, the anger melted as quickly as it had been sparked. Knees buckling, my father fell to the floor with a loud reverberation and lay there. I don’t remember moving, but there I was, kneeling at his side to no avail, watching tearfully as his eyes began to glaze.
I stared in the mirror intensely, searching for stray coffee patches that may have escaped my notice. My vigorous cleaning had left water all along the clean metal walls and I watched with feigned interest as a droplet of water was wandering warily down the mirrored surface, leaving but a small trail to remember its passage. It weaved across the smooth glass, picking up speed, twisting crazily now. As it reached the zenith of its journey, it shattered in frenzy upon the frame. I was left looking at a wet trail on glass, red, as it dully reflected my hair, and fading fast.
My seat was foreign when I sat down again and I felt like a soldier returning from a war, with everything and nothing changed. I laughed bitterly inside at such a poor analogy, and the woman sitting across me – when did she arrive? - gave me a quizzical look. Must have been the popular look today. That quelled my amusement. My face constantly changing expression triggered a titter from the woman – she was really no more than a girl? – across from me. The titter escalated into a laugh and I joined in until several people from further down the train looked over questioningly. We stopped laughing and looked each other in the eye.
“Come on Lara, you don’t mean it?” I asked jokingly, though I no longer felt any amusement. “Your parents must live, I mean, Lara, don’t they live in Cincinnati?” At this point I realized that the conversation was dead serious, and the point Lara had been trying to make for the past hour sank in. “You….y-y-you….ARE g-going?” I stuttered as she nodded solemnly. “It’s only a short visit, don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.” I beamed at her and she smiled weakly back, her hair falling in her eyes. “Well, I’ll see you off then, the sooner you’re gone, the sooner you get back.” Giggling to myself, and without waiting for a response, I bounded enthusiastically towards the door with her luggage in hand. Lara would only be gone a couple of weeks. Just a couple weeks. Only two weeks. Just two….
Years, it seemed like, as we stared at each other. Then she started laughing again and I ducked my head to hide my smile. Just as suddenly, her face turned serious again. “Listen, I’ll be right back, I’m just going to tell my Uncle I’m switching seats.” “OK, Ashley,” I began –how did I know her name? - but looking up, she was gone. I leaned back frustrated, almost falling from my seat with the swaying of the train, but righted myself just before I collided with the floor.
I sat there looking smug for no apparent reason a few moments longer, then went in search of Ashley. As I stood, I lurched violently to one side as the train encountered turbulence – is it called turbulence on a train? – and headed in the direction she left in. The train lurched again, and I stumbled awkwardly on the crimson décor pooled on the floor, plummeting against the window. My nose pressed against glass marred by a streak of crimson blood, I looked out upon the desolate countryside. It squealed rather loudly and the world shifted around me. Or, it tilted, per se. The floor was up now, and I gazed at the crimson matting that I had just been standing on. The floor – the ceiling? – lurched again, and I gazed far out the window, watching as the earth rushed up to greet me. I greeted it in turn, a small smile beginning to dawn on my face. The squeal climaxed, my eyes flashed, and we embraced.