Reflections On A Train: Revised

Reflections On A Train
By 256

Every day I wake up at 7:15am.  I hit snooze until 7:25am.  Every day I put my pants on over my underwear.  I put a shirt on over my shirt.  Every day I take a piss and brush my teeth.  I shave my meager stubble dry.  Every day I walk four blocks to the Sub.  I catch the 7:42am to the Station.  Every day I smoke a cigarette until 7:55am.  I wait for the 8:12am to Nowhere.  Every day I wait for the bus until 9:22am.  I reach work at 10:02.  I'm late every day.  Every day I stare at a screen for 7 hours.  I drink 2 coffees.  Every day I catch the 5:25pm to the station.  I eat six breath-mints.  Every day I get on the 6:15pm headed Home.  Every night I watch you in the window of the Train. 

Its been ten months and four days since we first met.  The first time I saw you, the only thing I could think was “I hope I see you after tonight, even just once.”  Momentarily distracted watching a deer sprinting through the woods, I hardly saw you as you walked through the Car to that destined seat.  I just caught a fraction of your profile as you turned to sit down in your seat, but even so, I knew who you were.  I have seen you thousands of times, in dreams, fits, and fantasies.  We have never spoken, or even made direct eye contact, but tonight that will change.

At first I was useless.  Living in a haze, work raced by like this Train we ride.  Functioning entirely on auto-pilot, I spent all day praying and hoping that you would ride the Train and all night either relishing or lamenting the outcome.  You didn't seem to show any pattern of what days you decided to join me.  The first month, I was still only working three days a week.  I couldn't bear it anymore.  Seeing you only once every two weeks, I convinced myself that you rode the days I didn't.  I've been working seven days a week for seven months.

I've been seeing you more often lately.  Almost everyday last week.  Its so sweet our time together.  Because of the angle of the reflection I always have a mirror image of your gaze looking out the window, in my own window.  The duplicitous reflections create a world within a world.  In that world we don't do much.  We'll usually just lie in bed and stare at each other, noticing every intricacy, caressing every blemish, and breathing every breath.  Sometimes we are on the couch.  I watch you stare out the window without ever seeing anything.  Your eyes never vary from that same far-off point you affix your focus.  Many things have happened since we've known each other.  A strange man tried to defecate in the vestibule.  A young girl attacked the Operator when he made a pass at her.  An old man tripped and broke his ankle...that was very sad.  I saw you crying.  And still you never waver. 

Sometimes you sleep, but more times than not you are wide awake.  Though I can't know what you are seeing, I hope it is beautiful.  If there ever were something that could hold my look that strongly, surely it would be beautiful.  Even when you sleep, I know you are in a beautiful place.  You never have fits, no sleep spasms so apparent on commuters, always the tiniest bit awake to make sure they don't miss their stop.  Not you.  Out like a light.  If you do decide to rest,  you always start between Bedshire and Nable's Fall and end as we blow past the now-vacant Wayde Station.  I like when you sleep.  You are so  calm, many times I find myself falling asleep with you.  I'm glad you get off before me because a few times the Operator has woken me up in front of the whole train.  I get very embarrassed.

I've spent weeks worth of hours staring at your face.  Initially, I didn't even realize it.  After you started riding I would stare at the crown of your head sticking above the seat.  However after a few days of non-stop fixation, I slowly started to drift back to my standard method of passing the time, watching out the window.  However, it is Winter.  It gets pitch black outside by 6:00pm.  As the darkness crept up with no significant lights to do battle, I gradually started watching the events within the Car.  It's just plain to dark to see anything other than the reflection.  And that's when I saw you staring at me. 

I've checked the angles a thousand times and there is no way you are actually staring at me.  We always sit in the same seats in the same Car.  I've sat in your seat when you're not there.  If  you craned your neck, there is a chance that we could overlap.  But with your slightly off-straight gaze out the edge of the window, it is impossible to see me.  Regardless it was a momentous advancement in our relationship.  Under the guise of blankly staring out the window, I can look at your beautiful face for 49 minutes a day.  So quickly lost in you I get.  I find myself transfixed on the dull stranger who took your spot.  So lost in us that I don't even realize you've gone.  The same goes for my dreams.

Ever since you've been riding more frequently,  you've slowly worked your way into the crevasses of my subconscious.  There you are sitting on the bench as I blow down I-95 on a jet ski.  Reading a magazine as I save the plane from the Terrorists.  Or tanning at the far end of the beach as I survey from the watchtower of my life-size sandcastle.  Never playing a major role but always there nonetheless.  These dreams are fitful, for as soon as I notice you I instantly become distracted and complacent.  Things start to go awry and I wake up.  I woke up 16 times last night.  Tonight this ends.

Its a Wednesday.  You were on yesterday and today.  I'm feeling lucky.  The train seems to take extra long to get here but there it is, 6:15am on the dot.  I wait for 2 minutes and 13 seconds.  Then you get on.  Eyes locked dead ahead, mesmerizing as can be.  Never have you given me the slightest nod.  Walk in.  Eyes up.  Perfect half reverse turn into your seat without even spotting your landing.  But Like I said I'm feeling lucky.  Tonight, I'm getting off at your stop.

The Train ride goes off without a hitch.  Business as usual, though there was a wild pack of High Schoolers who took a break in our car for about 10 minutes.  And as usual, you just kept looking out the window and I just kept looking at you.  Brandy Rock.  Three more stops.

“What's the plan?”  I begin to ask myself.  I don't know what has come over me.  Maybe it's the 1.5 hours I sleep, spread out over 7.  Maybe its the 7 months without a day off.  But I need to finish this silence.  This can't go on.  I already feel like I know her so well.  Eastern Market.  Here it is.  Next stop.

I'll just wing it.  Get off and follow her for a little while.  Find an excuse.  Any excuse.  “Excuse me ma’am, your shoes untied.”  “Excuse me, did you drop this pen by any chance?”  As soon as I hear her voice, I will know...Center City.  Here we go.

I wait for her to get up and start walking off the Car, then I quietly grab my bag and follow a few people behind her.  Its easy to keep an eye on her.  The back of her head is imprinted on my obdula oblongata.  She's headed for the Exit.  Perfect.  Get away from all these people.  She turns and pushes through the side entrance double doors.  I follow up a few seconds later and nearly tackle her to the ground.

Having stopped to light a cigarette just on the other side of the door, I walked straight into her.  So focused on the chase, expecting her to be halfway around the corner.  I grabbed her shoulders to steady her and let out a jumbled heap of “Fuck”, “Shit” and “I'm sorry.”  She looks up at me and says, “Hey I know you.  I always see you staring at me on the Train.”