He wanted the train to come not because he was late, but because his ears wanted to be warm. Impatiently, he glanced both ways down the track, even though he knew it always came from the right, silently promising himself he would not look left next time. His mother had branded a look-both-ways-before-crossing-the-street mentality into him, even on one-way streets. The train finally arrived, and he stepped on.
The habitual eighty-seven minute train ride to school was bland as usual for him, though he considered it better than lectures and study. He plopped down in the first seat available, to the dismay of a middle-aged passenger. Noting the man's displeasure, he briefly considered finding another seat - perhaps even a cute girl to sit next to - but had long ago arrived at the conclusion that only ugly, bitter people rode this line. All the attractive people sat together, or occupied their train time with ipods or newspapers. If he was attractive, his certainly would find music or newsprint easier to stomach than whoever was sitting next to him. He glanced at the passenger seated to his left, and it only verified his thoughts: balding, crooked nose, overweight. He covered a smiled when the man's attempt to stow his briefcase under their seat was thwarted by the lack of space between his belly and seat in front of him.
The first twenty minutes passed rather slowly. He slept until the leg of briefcase man brushed up against his own. He frowned. This was one of those awkward moments where nobody knows what to do. The space was rightfully his, and though it was a two-seater, and the man was slightly larger than normal, these facts did not give him the right to take unmerited leg space. Despite the protests of his now cramped legs, he waited, and was rewarded when fatty struggled to exit the train at the next station. He was glad to see him go, and his legs happily stretched out.
He was about to doze off again when an attractive, graceful girl entered the car. Eyebrows raised, he nodded, impressed, but unhappy that there were three available seats before his row. He also noticed that he was sitting on the outside of the seat, and slid over to make room for her as best he could without being seen. She seemed to be preoccupied with herself, and smoothly sat down next to him - her ass, he noted, made no sound at all upon hitting the seat. She turned and looked through him, out the window. Blushing, he waited until she looked away and glanced over at her. She had on a small, nice looking red shirt and semi-baggy yet sleek looking sweat pants, and wore her clothes with an elegant confidence that he was envious of.
His initial reaction was one of admiration, but he did not stare, for fear of being noticed. Should he say something? Start a conversation? Would a girl of such perceptible quality want to talk to an uninteresting, insignificant boy? His palms became nervous and sweaty; his heart beat faster. She fell asleep. Letting out a sigh of relief, he relaxed and cautiously looked her over, as if staring too hard would wake her up. She had a silky aura that was terrifically attractive to him. If she woke up before his stop, he wanted to be ready with something tremendously witty, so as to captivate her with his intelligence and charm.
After ten minutes or so, he had mapped out exactly what he was going to say, and anticipated every common question she could ask, every typical response she could give. To avoid the awkward silence that inevitably befalls two strangers who run out of things to talk about, he thoroughly examined her clothes, hair, and bags, brainstorming a formidable array of backup questions to ask just in case. After letting his mind stray onto some possible but unlikely situations, like her offering him money or stripping naked, he was finally ready.
Unfortunately, one does not easily come out of sleep. He tried coughing, shaking their seat, and answering a make believe cell phone call, but she stubbornly stayed asleep. Exasperated, he saw no other solution except to touch her. Deciding that a double-tap would be best, he aimed his trembling hand at her shoulder closest to him. With obvious reluctance, he painstakingly inched his hand closer. He paused a few centimeters from her shoulder, exhaling deeply. His hand stayed there for a minute or two, easily rebuffing his mind's commands. Defeated, he withdrew his hand.
Brow still furrowed due to his appendage's disobedience, he failed to notice the conductor walking down the aisle collecting tickets. He had already flashed his yearly pass at an earlier conductor, and it did not occur to him that another would come to collect tickets from the new passengers. Her subsequent awakening happened very quickly. She was roused by the conductor, handed over her ticket, and turned. Suddenly she was looking at him. His entire being screamed for him to say something, but all the carefully planned words he was supposed to say vanished. His mind melted under such a gaze, and mouth decided to take matters into its own hands, spewing forth an incoherent, garbled mix of sounds.
She raised her eyebrows, her widened eyes taken aback. He sat, frozen in all eternity, shaken to the core at what his usually reliable mouth had uttered. The ensuing second went in slow motion, and he pondered all her possible reactions to his buffoonery. Her expression changed, and finally the silence was broken by a delightful giggle. This was the one response he was not prepared for, and was mentally incapacitated by it, mouth agape. Clearly amused, she began to converse with him.
The next thirty some odd minutes compromised his shortest train ride ever. They spoke of their faults and ambitions, of their futures and destinies. He found out quite a bit about her, mentally engraving these details into his memory. Everyone else on the train faded to black and white. Their seat alone was in bright neon color, the fourth seat from the front of the sixth car on the first peak time train into the city on the third day of fall of his twenty some odd years of existence. These facts he remembered as vividly as her flawless features.
He was so enraptured with their dialogue that he almost missed his stop. As he stood up to leave, she almost looked as if she would have preferred him to stay. He squeezed into the aisle, relishing the fleeting physical contact he felt with her. She smiled and said that she greatly enjoyed talking to him, throwing a wave in for good measure. With apparent reluctance, he tore his gaze away and exited the train, an arcane smile plastered onto his face.
He studied very hard that day. The train encounter was his source of motivation, and his thoughts dwelled happily and unceasingly on her, and of what could have been. His was not an obsession with the person, but with the idea that someone who he clearly thought was better valued him as an equal. This experience was divine to him, mushrooming into the turning point of his life.
He slowly built his confidence, and became charismatic and ambitious. His studies were no longer boring and worthless, but rather were valued by him as an opportunity to prove his new found self-worth. Finishing school, he took a low paying internship, and worked his way up to an executive position of midsize technology corporation. He eventually fell in love, married, and lived contently in the suburbs, cheerfully taking the train to work every morning.
Looking back, even he thought the ninety-minute train ride an unlikely candidate as the turning point of his life, but he was reminiscing as a confident, successful man, not as a depressed, antisocial boy whose life, up until that point, held no light or direction. His wife was confounded by it as well, and perhaps a bit jealous of this girl who her husband put on a pedestal so long ago. He stared into space, and thanked this mystery girl, now a woman, for all the happiness she brought to his life, and wished her the same.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
She walked briskly onto the platform, just as the train arrived. Tossing a half empty cup of coffee into the garbage, she peeked at the cell phone in her pocket, wondering to herself why her boyfriend had not called yet. While the train slowed to a stop, she considered calling her many friends to tell them where she had gone; they had wanted to do something tonight, and their plans would be ruined without her, but she decided against it, in case she received an incoming call.
She boarded the train. Her attention still directed at the phone, she casually sat down, glancing past the young man next to her and out the window. She wondered if a t-shirt was appropriate, even though this season was uncharacteristically warm. Bored, she quickly fell asleep, dreaming about what she and her boyfriend would do in the city - perhaps go shopping, or just hang out at his dorm. He did have a test the next day, and for that reason she decided to decline his request that she stay overnight.
Awakened by the sharp click-click of the conductor's hole puncher, she searched and quickly found her round trip ticket. After giving her ticket to the conductor, she had a nice chat with the boy next to her, and stepped off at the next stop. Why hadn't her boyfriend called yet? Didn't he care about her? He would receive an earful when she arrived at his dorm. Still upset at the lack of ringing from her phone, she scowled and ambled into the crosswalk, inadvertently into the path of an oncoming taxicab. It had a small dent in its left rear door, a slightly deflated right front tire, and poor acceleration. Nevertheless, it hit her at a speed of at least thirty-five miles per hour, and she died in the hospital the next day. Her boyfriend had not called her yet.
EPT
