Albert Anderson stood next to the train tracks with the cool October wind nipping the back of his exposed neck. The fluorescent lights of the station illuminated his chocolate face and cast shadows across the valleys of his brow. His dark brown eyes glanced back to the wooden shack with chipping grey paint that served as a conductor’s office for as long as he could remember. Inside was a Keurig that had been a gift from his coworkers as a reward for his many years of service-with a push of a button he could warm himself with a cup of coffee. As tempting as a cup of coffee sounded, it was his duty to remain by the track.
He let out a sigh, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his navy vest and removed a gold pocket watch that had been in his family for generations. The metal chain clanged against a silver tag that dangled from the watch while he clicked it open to check the time: 8:47. The clock read with the soft sound of its gears ticking could be heard on the quiet night.
The last train would be departing at 9:15, and once it left he would be allowed to return home. He already knew how the evening would conclude, for it was the same every night. He would come home to find his wife Deloris waiting for him at the rickety kitchen table, dressed in her pink floral pajamas with her grey hair in pastel rollers she got from the pharmacy years ago. She would welcome him home with a late dinner that the two would share together. Her fingers, hooked from years as a seamstress and arthritis, coiled around his calloused ones as they prayed together. They prayed in thanks for their good fortune, they prayed for the future of their children and their grandchildren, and lastly, they prayed for the seat at the table that would remain empty.
His left hand reached up and rubbed the silver tag that dangled from the watch. All the paint from the tag was gone but he could feel the letters despite the numbing cold. He closed his eyes for a moment as he traced the words as if they were a sacred mantra. However he dared not speak them, for he believed himself to be no longer worthy of them. The old conductor took a deep breath, then opened his eyes and slipped the watch back into the safety of his pocket before he began to pace along the track.
Crossroads Station used to be the gem of the town in its day. When the town constructed the train station no expense had been spared, for the city council wanted it to be the jewel of the place. Crisp white towers supported the shelter that had metal vines woven along the arches with the lights hanging down like flower buds. It had once been a welcoming place that made passengers smile when they arrived. But that was many years ago, long before the recession. Now the station was barely a shadow of what it had been. Paint had been chipped away from the abuse of Mother Nature or been buried under the graffiti of small local gangs. He had watched this place rot away year by year but still he stayed, because some part of him believed that he was needed and the other knew that he had nowhere left to go.
As he patrolled the cement platform he saw a girl leave the small brick ticket booth that stood in the shadow of the conductor’s shack. She wore a patched up hoodie that did not appear nearly warm enough to combat the October wind. Peaking out from the dark fabric were vivid strands of pink hair, the only source of color in her clothes. The passenger paid him no attention, simply took a seat on the pale wooden bench and began fumbling with a small electronic device. She shoved some headphones into her ears before leaning back into the bench.
He approached the girl out of a mix of duty and curiosity. It was a little late for a child to be out, particularly by themselves. “Is there anything I can help you with?” His voice was rich.
The hooded girl looked up at him with annoyance as the light reflected off her short bubblegum pink hair. “No. I don’t need anything.” she said sharply. Her grey eyes were as cold as steel. If he had to guess her age he would say mid teens. She ripped the headphones off in frustration then stuffed them into her pocket with one of the buds dangling out.
He gave a nod then checked the station for any signs of a parent, but they were all alone. Returning his gaze to her he saw the small purple duffel bag she desperately clung to and slowly began to see the whole picture. “Do you know where you are going this evening?” he asked as he rested his hand on the bench corner away from her.
“The train’s going away from here, that’s all I care about.” she said, not meeting his eyes. Her small arms were wrapped around the bag with her hands trembling.
“Ah yes, the train to Away. Some place far far away where dreams can start fresh.” He slowly took a seat on the bench, feeling his knees creak from the cold. She slid away from him. “Forgive me, the cold bothers my arthritis.” He pinched his right knee between his fingers to massage some of the dull pain away. She shook her head then looked away.
A few moments passed between them with only the wind speaking. He drew in a deep breath and said: “So what makes you want to take the train to Away?”
He watched her roll her tongue over her teeth in annoyance but her eyes wavered with fear. “Does it matter?” she retorted.
“To some, no.” He leaned back in the bench. “But to others, it means everything. But everyone has a reason, no matter how simple it seems.” He spoke slowly, like a grandfather would when he explained something to a child.
“Maybe there’s just nothing left for me here alright?” She snapped with her grey eyes looking at him briefly. In them he could see a tornado of emotion-anger, confusion, fear, all of these fighting for control. It was a gaze that was all too familiar to him as a parent. She quickly returned her eyes to the train tracks.
He followed her gaze. Yet all he could see were train tracks, cold steel that matched her cold eyes. “Are you certain? Home has something for everyone.” He spoke softly. She shifted on the bench causing the wood to let out a small creak. “It would be nice to be at home, where it is warm.”
“I don’t want to be home.” She said.
His eyes glanced over before he spoke. “My wife is waiting at home for me, she is probably working on another crossword puzzle, well I suppose she would be done with it now.” Each word he spoke was slow and clear.
“My family is having dinner now, asking Lisa about her day.” She kept her voice low. “She came in first at the science fair, again.” Her nails tapped her bag, there was a hint of bitterness in her tone.
“Ah, the science fair, did you enter as well?” He remembered when his children had to compete when they were in high school. Countless late nights testing their theories with him listening in the next room to excited chatter. Now they were all grown up and listening to the theories of their children.
The pinked haired girl said nothing, but tears began to roll down her cheeks. She tried not to make too much noise but her sharp inhales gave her away. He reached into his jacket pocket and offered her a handkerchief with his initials sewn onto it by his wife. “Crying doesn’t suit a young lady.” He spoke with the tone of a grandfather. She let out a mocking scoff at the term “lady”. Yet she took the offering of kindness and wiped her mascara filled tears away.
“How old are you?” He asked as she slowly calmed down.
She glanced over at him as she wiped another tear away. “16-, I mean 18.” She answered. Now her crying had subsided to sniffles.
The grey haired conductor nodded. “Sixteen, you’re still so young.” He had the hint of a smile as he remembered when he was that age many years ago.
“I’m old enough to work!” she objected. “I plan to get a job and go to school.”
He smiled. “What will you learn at school?”
She straightened her posture in an attempt to appear more mature. “Chemistry. One day I’ll work in a lab where I’ll help develop medicine.” She spoke with the confidence of a naïve teen.
“You have it all figure out, don’t you?”
“Of course, I’m always prepared.” She finished wiping her eyes and handed the handkerchirf back to him.
He tucked the black stained cloth back into his pocket. “Do you? Have you figured out where you’re going to live once you go to Away? What about meals? If you want to study hard then you must take care of yourself.” He said with his eyes focused on her.
She hesitated for a moment as she considered his points. “I’ll find a roommate, or I’ll work and board. I can handle myself just fine.” She insisted.
He let out a hearty laugh. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. But you’ve only been on this world for such a short time so it’s not really your fault that you have a limited view of life.”
“I know enough about life to know it’s unfair, some people get everything and others are left to rot.” The bitterness returned to her voice.
His expression softened at the truth in her words. “As you grow older you’ll face many times ahead of you. You’ll have times that make you feel like nothing can make you happier and these moments remind you what a joy it is to be alive.” He thought of his wedding day to the woman he loved and then how it felt to hold their child for the first time, wondering if he could love anyone more than his son until his other children joined the family. Then his expression grew more sorrowful as the wrinkles in his face began to sink. “Other times you feel like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and stomped in front of you. You wonder how anyone can endure such pain.” The vivid memory of the police officer at the door was all too fresh in his mind. “But still we live. We learn to overcome those bad times and cherish those good times.” He said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold watch. “Time is the only thing we have and we’re never guaranteed it. So we need to make the most of it because we can never get it back.” He rubbed the silver tag between his forefinger and thumb, reminiscing of something. The he turned to her with warm eyes full of wisdom. “Parents, we make mistakes just like any other person. And we might not realize at the time but we only do what we think is best for our children. We may be too strict, too ignorant, too foolish.” He said with his voice growing softer. He remembered when his children were young how he ruled the house with an iron fist because he just wanted to raise good children and look where it got him, years of regret and self loathing. The very people he wanted to protect, cursing him like some monster after everything he had done for them. All of the memories that he tried to bury resurfaced and renewed his guilt. “Every parent loves their children more than you can ever imagine. Even now I bet your father is driving around frantically looking for you while your mother is at home waiting by the phone.”
She shook her head and pulled her bag closer to her. “I fought with my mom today, before I left. She told me that I wouldn’t be going to college. We just can’t afford to send two kids, so my parents decided to send Lisa. After all, Lisa would succeed, just as she had done at the science fair, I just got the runner up position.” She admitted then wiped some tears away. “I started shouting at her, how is that fair to favor one child like that? I called her a bitch, we fought some more, I left. She yelled to me to not bother coming back.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “She thinks I’m lazy and useless because I’m not as good as Lisa. But I work every bit as hard as her.” She said then took a brief pause. “Why should I go back to her?”
“All mothers love their children, just sometimes they love them too much and say the wrong things.” He said. “I’m sure she regrets your fight and is waiting with a hot meal for you at home.” His wife had done the same years ago, seated across from the door with a fresh plate of meatloaf while she waited for it to swing open and her family to be reunited.
She glanced down at her hands and picked at the chipping purple nail polish. “Why did you talk to me tonight? You could have just ignored me and let me get on the train.” Her voice was small while she spoke.
Off in the distance the horn of a train could be heard as the train approached. The old conductor slowly got to his feet. “Because maybe I wish that someone had had this conversation with my son, then I would be able to hug him once more and let him now how proud I was of him.” he said as his fingers traced over the letters engraved in the silver tag. A tear welded up in the corner of his wrinkled eye.
“Is that his?” Her voice shook as she watched the sorrowful way he stared at the slim piece of metal. He gave a slow yet noticeable nod. She swallowed uncomfortably as she stared at him. “What happened to him?” she said with her mouth going dry.
He turned the tag over in his fingers and she could see the reflection of the medical symbol in the dim light. “We fought about what he should do with his life, I wanted him to go to school, and he wanted to play football. So one day while I was out with my friends, he took the train to Away and never came back. The next time I saw him was in the morgue.” For the first time his voice quivered as he remembered every grisly detail; the scent of rubbing alcohol, the flickering lights, and the toe tag that dangled from his son, the only identification he had been given. “Police told me it had been a mugging gone wrong, they pushed him and he fell and struck his head.” He gave a regretful sigh. “He was epileptic, had been his whole life. The fall triggered a seizure and no one helped him. He choked on his own vomit, alone in some nameless alley.” In his mind he recalled the last time he saw his son smiling, when they watched the high school football game together before the fight. His boy joked about the lousy throw by the quarterback while he downed another can of Cola. How he wished he could trade all the time in the word just to go back to that one. “He caught his train and now he’s gone. Maybe one day I’ll be able to follow him to Away.” He slipped the watch and tag back into his pocket. The tear fell down his cheek, slowly overcoming valleys and mountains to his chin. “Forgive me, it has been awhile since I spoke about him.” After so many years of guilt he felt the slightest bit of redemption. His breath felt like some of the weight he shouldered had been lifted allowing him a fresh breath.
She said nothing. He looked back at the train then to her. “Your train to Away is here, you have your ticket and you know your destination. I wish you the best of luck on your journey. But if you wish, there’s hot coco in the Conductor’s house and a phone.” He tipped his hat to her politely. “Have a good evening.” With that said he returned to the Conductor’s house to allow her to make her own decision.
Tonight he would go home and pray with his wife. He would pray for their good fortune, for the future of their children and grandchildren, the seat at their table that his son would never return to, and lastly, he would pray that another table did not have an empty seat tonight. He wondered if his son would be proud of him, and if he was that he would allow his father a peaceful night’s sleep.
Behind him over the sound of the train he heard crying, but he dare not look back. His duty as a conductor had been completed as his as a father. All he could do was hope that he had done enough to change her mind.
Pen, Paper, and Prosecco 