Waiting for a Train

[MessengerOfDreams]

“I never knew why I liked planes, trains or automobiles as a child; throughout my whole life,” he sighed wearily, his breath creating a visible cloud in the frigid cold. “But then I realized that it was because they could get me the hell out of this place.”

She shot him a nervous glance as he faced the trains below them. Most of them were dotted with rustic red, their age catching up with them. The lines of boxcars and oil tanks were perfectly parallel to each other, each along their own track. She leaned over the small bridge railing, her green eyes fixated on the surroundings and offered “Well… I always liked Planes, Trains and Automobiles because of Steve Martin.”

“Not helping, Sarah,” he replied sharply. Sarah frowned, eyebrow furrowed, but some relief shone her way as she noticed his mouth turn into a smile for just a flash of a second. If one had even so much as diverted their attention to something else for a second, they’d have never known. But she always liked to catch things like that.
Sarah placed her hand on his as he steadied himself against the railing. “Are you sure you aren’t overreacting, Malcolm? I mean, things aren’t… half bad, here.”

“Half bad?” Malcolm smirked. “That’s a fun slogan for the tourist advertisements. ‘Detroit, Michigan. Eh, you could be worse off.’”

“I’d actually like to see something like that,” Sarah laughed humorlessly. It was hard to laugh with mirth with such a dreary overcast.

“Sure, sure,” Malcolm shrugged, and it became quiet again. Sarah ran a hand through her exposed blonde hair, trying to avoid the basic fact that the conversation she was engaging in was both awkward and strained. The emotions raw with every guarded word he spoke.

Malcolm kept his focus on the trains below him. The reds, blues, yellows and charcoal blacks lay in puzzles within its stops. It intrigued him, and yet he still didn’t realize why. Not quite, anything. Wanting to leave on a train is one thing. The one thing he wanted.

There was a glaring light reflected from the sun, courtesy of a silver tanker just below him. He shot a look of disgust at his reflection. His short, simple black hair. His filled-out beard that covered his face. The tired wrinkles on his skin. The surrender in his brown eyes.

When I get to New York, Malcolm promised himself, I’m going to change. Look better. Look fresh, new. Become new. Renew, I guess is the word.

He snapped back to reality when he noticed the gentle, comforting strokes across his knuckle from Sarah’s fingertip. Even through the frustration still boiled inside of him, Malcolm smiled, for just a couple of seconds. He didn’t turn his gaze towards her as he said his next statement.

“If I could hop one of these right now, I swear I would.”

Sarah’s eyes widened again. “You nerve me out when you talk like that.”

“I only speak the truth,” he insisted in cool tones.

“Okay,” she responded.

Malcolm let a solid eight seconds of silence pass before he spoke. “I mean, you say this town isn’t half bad here. Well, why do we settle for that? Half bad. ♥♥♥♥, so we just drop all our ♥♥♥♥ here cause there’s nowhere else to go? There are plenty of other places to go. Just hop on one of these babies and you’re out of here.”

“Some people like it here, Malcolm,” Sarah whispered roughly. Even through the control she assumed on her words, her bottled up emotions scraped against her voice.

“So I’ve heard.” Malcolm’s reply was breezier than his prior ones. “Whichever works for them, I suppose. I don’t know why anyone would choose this place, though.”

Sarah blinked, aggravated. “Because there are things holding them here. Things they don’t want to let go of, to eliminate from their lives. A fresh start involves setting fire to everything you had before.

Malcolm smiled wryly, haplessly, turning to Sarah. “You make an awful lot of presumptions, you know that?”

Sarah returned his gaze bitterly. “Don’t patronize me, Malcolm,” she demanded. “This has happened to me before. It usually goes like this- a friend leaves, and you promise you’ll keep in touch no matter what. A week later, it seems that they forgot your existence, and you’re there on the end of a phone call or an email that you never get a reply to. Trust me, it does not work out.”

Malcolm was taken aback by her bold statement. “Well, Sarah…” words failed him. “This will be good for me. For both of us. I need the change of pace.”

“I’m sick of change,” Sarah’s small frame shook with her confession. “That’s why I stayed in this town. I figure if I stay in this town, live in this house, stay with these people, things will finally level out and I’ll get some foundation in my life.”

She tore her hand off of his, and watched him silently scramble for a word or two.

He found them. “This city is a low accomplishment if I ever saw one.” Adjusting his gray scarf, he added “I’m on to bigger and better things than the things that are here.”

“Like me.”

As soon as she spat those two words, Malcolm regretted uttering them. Sarah started to walk off of the pedestrian bridge, her hand rubbing against the silver cylinder. He put his arm on her shoulder, mumbling “Come on… don’t leave!”

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“That’s the least of what’s wrong!” Her voice became a shout as she swiveled around to glare at him.

Malcolm refused to reply, giving her the floor to go ahead- or perhaps he was just fearful of finding out for himself.

Sarah noticed, and immediately wished she had never become so attached to him as she gathered her wits about her. “You may think leaving is as simple as taking a train ride, but it’s not the same for me. For anyone who knew you. This is just another puzzle piece gone from my portrait. When you leave…” she swallowed a sob “I’m going to feel it.”

Malcolm’s smile turned wry and sympathetic all at once. “Smart girl,” he said, loosening his grip. The two stood mid-action, looking at each other. Sarah was pretty sure she didn’t blink.

Malcolm looked straight into her eyes and made his offer. “Why don’t you go with me?”

“Huh?” She knew her answer, but didn’t expect his question.

“Come with me to New York. We can go together. Never lose each other. Adventure, if you will. If you’d like.”

Although it would always cause her great pain, she shook her head. “I… I can’t do that to myself,” she admitted. “I… I like it here. The people are nice, the sights are pleasant, but most of all… it feels solid. Unmovable. A foundation. And I need that.”

Malcolm looked none too surprised. “Okay, then.” Taking a deep breath, he announced “Well, I guess this is goodbye, Sarah.”

Sarah was darkly relieved at the news she dreaded hearing. Best to get it over with before she broke. “It is goodbye, Malcolm. Thank you for everything.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Sarah,” Malcolm let his hand fall so hers could catch it one last time. “And thank you. Thank you for saving me.”

The words stunned her from how much she anticipated them, and how it signaled the last goodbye. Malcolm let her go, nodded curtly, and descended the stairs of the pedestrian bridge into the light snow. Sarah didn’t follow, instead wishing that she had kissed him, just once, like she told herself she would do. There was nothing to lose, except what had happened since she didn’t.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, a tear in her eye.

Her eyes followed Malcolm as he began his journey. He reached the industrial platforms where the trains lay in wait. Not your typical way to leave this town, but Malcolm was not a typical man. He climbed into an open box cart, and she knew that was the last she would ever see him. She had memorized every moment, because she knew her mind would be replaying it for years to come, constantly.

She would never hear his voice again. Never speak to him. She had his phone number, but she knew she was never going to talk to it. She had his email, but she knew she was never going to write. This was the conclusion.

She didn’t move off of the pedestrian bridge for twelve minutes and thirty-six seconds until the train started its engine and moved off of the track, cranking out of sight. With one last small wave, she let the train disappear and then proceeded to walk down the platform onto her foundation.

And she was happy with where she was, through it all.
----------------------------------------------------
Three years ago, Malcolm came into Detroit on a boxcar train with no money, a fluffy black vest with many discolored stains and a bottle of Jack Daniels he had fished out of a dumpster. It still had half of a bottle’s worth when he found it.

For the most part he was leaving the same way. He was still poor. He was still wearing that ugly vest. But he’d never find himself with a bottle of Jack as long as he could help it. And he thanked her for that. For having the willpower when he didn’t. For saving him.

As a professional homeless man he knew how much he could rely on the kindness of strangers. He just didn’t expect so much from someone who didn’t know him before. But that was Sarah. She wanted to have just a small impact on the people she believed would have an impact on the world. Kindest stranger he’d ever meet, most fortunate bus seat he’d ever picked.

He hoped someone would return the favor. He wished he could have, but he knew it just wouldn’t be right.

He got a clean start there. But something didn’t seem right. In Detroit there was the lingering sights of him passing out drunk before, throughout the town where his memories he scattered. The old him would always be there. At every dive bar, along every dirty street where someone mocked him. Along the city where people were killing each other and fighting over trivial things. Where the good was overshadowed by the glaring bad.

So New York City it was.

A new start would do him good. As a different, stronger person. One who would not forsake his goals. One who would allow himself to live his life.

Malcolm relaxed against the boxcar, resting his head against his left arm and allowing his right hand to reach into his pocket and pull out the one remnant of his life in Detroit- he didn’t have any bags to pack after all. He smiled as he and Sarah stared back at him. A year ago. A party for being six months sober. By now he was eighteen. No need to celebrate, though. A party was no good, he had already given himself the gift of a fresh start.

He’d never forget her face. Even if the picture burned, he’d remember her emerald eyes, her short, humble blonde locks, her smooth featured face. The kindness in her smile. A beautiful sight that would be in his mind forever.

With a sigh and a melancholic grin, he put the picture back and gave one last silent thanks to his savior before he fell asleep, hoping to wake up in a new life, a fresh start.

Malcolm always loved planes, trains and automobiles. Not only did they get you the hell out a place you didn’t want to be in, they took you to a place where you always wanted to go. Usually, that was home. It had been forever since he had one, but it was out there.

And Malcolm couldn't wait to get there.