Next Stop: Hope

Thump, thump.

The train thrashed against the ground below.

Thump, thump.

Thump, thump!

“THRRRRRRRRRRHHHH” cried the whistle. They were stopping at yet another station. Jack, a small boy who looked about ten, picked his nails, his eyes on the sunset. The entire journey seemed to have lasted decades, but his watch said otherwise. He was more than half convinced that his watch was lying, but he couldn’t prove it. He looked out of his window, remembering when he saw his aunt waving goodbye to him through the same glass.

Aunt Martha lived far away and had only seen him a few times. The memory felt more like a blurry, distant dream now, as if it had been very long ago- which it had. (His watch just wouldn’t admit it.) The sun had now fully set, and- with nothing to look at and be bored with- the excess boredom was contaminating his mind. It wouldn’t have been so unbearable for him if he wasn’t going to see his mother for the first time in months, but he was, and it did. She was exposed to COVID-19, from her workplace, a nursing home, though she was now in recovery. It took a week for her test results to get back, and she wore a mask at home for his protection, all the while. When she “popped positive,” he was sent off to his Aunt Martha’s. He had other, closer relatives, who would likely have taken him, but his aunt insisted. The last time they’d met he was half his current age. They had been picking strawberries for homemade strawberry shortcake, and he cried out “No rawberries!” because he only wanted the cake part. Everyone loved that story, especially Aunt Martha. It seemed that she missed him. Was that all it took for her to get him, though? Missing him? It seemed like too low of an ante. He loved his aunt, but a little less now since she opted to send him home on this terrible, cramped, and bumpy train, alone. He wasn’t really by himself, though. In reality, he was trapped in a small compartment with his boredom, a miserable fate worse than actual solitude. The train was still halted. People were still boarding on the opposite side of the train. He decided to go brush his teeth and get ready for bed. He never went to bed this early, but it was probably later than his watch was telling him. Regardless, it would be best if he could try and sleep some. He ventured out of his compartment, mask and backpack on, and went into the bathroom.

—While Jack was brushing his teeth, a shifty man with a brown trench coat and a funny hat walked into Jack’s empty compartment. He seemed agitated and fidgety, as if he were in peril. The man repeatedly checked his watch and referenced his small, black notebook. All of the sudden, he squiggled down some writing on the pages, and tore one out. He placed the sheet of paper under a pillow, and left. It’s important to note that he was in the wrong compartment.

—Meanwhile, Jack had finally finished brushing his teeth, but he noticed that he had a loose tooth. He put his backpack and mask back on and headed back, vowing to leave the tooth alone, but secretly knowing that he wouldn’t.

“THHHHHHHRRRRRRRRR” warned the whistle. The train was about to start moving again. Jack ran back to his compartment to find it exactly as it was before—boring and cramped. Thump, thump. The train began again, slowly. He was truly a jack-in-a-box right now, as stuck and stir-crazy as ever. The sun had set, and the sky was too cloudy for stargazing. The only thing that was different than before was that now there was no sun to watch set, or so he thought, until he remembered his loose tooth. That was different. Thump, thump. With nothing else to do, he couldn’t help but fidget with it. After five minutes or so, it popped right out, and landed on the carpeted floor. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Staring at it in awe, he picked it up. Thump, thump. Could the tooth fairy find him, even in this horrible train? He decided to test it. He put his arm under his pillow and laid his head on it. He fell asleep quickly, with his tooth in his hand, and at some point in the night, he dropped it. He woke up the next morning, feeling lazy and anxious. Thump, thump. Had the tooth fairy been able to find him? He reached under his pillow and felt, hoping for money. Instead he pulled out a piece of scratch paper that read—

“Look, I got your money. It’s at Oakfield Elementary, locker number 346. The combination is 684.”

Jack was shocked. The tooth fairy had found him! Not only that, but she had left him some money at his school. He had chosen to do remote learning, but the tooth fairy probably didn’t know that. He could get in if he played his cards right, though. He sat up in his seat, watching the sky, thrilled. Thump, thump. Only a little longer until he could see his mom and find out what the tooth fairy had left him...

—

Thump, thump.

Jack was sloped down in his chair, bored. It had been three hours, and he couldn’t wait any longer to see his mom. He simply couldn’t. It didn’t help that he was sore and stuffed, his body aching from being crammed in such a small space. He looked through his backpack, longing for amusement. He’d stuffed the note in there for safekeeping. Jack studied the tooth fairy’s handwriting. It was far neater than his. Thump, thump. The tooth fairy had never given him a note before, but now did seem to be a good time for exceptions. Like so many others, he had been having a hard time recently. He sighed, shut his eyes, and dreamt of getting home to his mother.

—

Thump, thump!

Jack awoke to a very cruel noise:

“THHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRR”

Covering his ears, he rolled over, feeling like a baby trapped in a crib. So much energy and excitement, yet no way to expel it. Like a baby, too, he also wanted his mother. The train was stopping again. This time the station was visible through his own window. He checked his watch. It had only been two hours, or so it said. It felt like six hours. How could watches tell time if they didn’t know how long something felt? Surely that was an important part of time-telling, he thought. He studied the people who were getting on, and those who were getting off. Amongst the crowd, he noticed a familiar face, who was waving vigorously. It was his mother. He couldn’t see her mouth, but he knew that she was smiling behind her mask. He was smiling, too. Backpack and mask on, he scrambled off of the train. Good riddance! He ran off of the platform and into her arms. He felt tears from her face on his.

—

Driving in the car, they chatted on for what Jack called five minutes and for what his watch called thirty, but then his mother changed the subject and said: “I’m sure you want to get home, Jack, but I need to let your principal know that you’re back from Aunt Martha’s. Do you mind if we stop at your school?”

He couldn’t believe it. “Not at all!” He laughed with pleasure. He asked whether he could come and wait in the hallway. His mother allowed it. With masks on, they walked into the school, and his mother into the principal’s office. He rummaged through his backpack and retrieved the note.

“Look, I got your money. It’s at Oakfield Elementary, locker number 346. The combination is 684.”

The note was slightly more crumpled now, but that wouldn’t stop him.

He looked for locker number 346. It was near the end of the hallway. He referenced the note and entered the combination, crossing his fingers. It worked! He opened the metal door and found a grocery store bag, filled with lots of money. More than he had ever seen. Perhaps all of that teeth-brushing had paid off. It must have been a very good tooth if he was getting all of this money for it, he thought. He didn’t have time to count it now, so he stuffed it into his backpack and waited for his mom. How much money could be inside, he wondered. One hundred dollars? Two hundred? One thousand?! Jack knew that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but only now did he realize how hard that was. It was at this moment that his mom came out. By now he had his backpack on and closed, so she was oblivious to the parcel inside.

—

Jack laid back in a corner of his room, taking in the familiar scent. It smelled like home, an ever-present memory. His mother was downstairs, making his favorite for dinner. He sighed of relief, though he was a bit sad that it was the end of an adventure. It didn’t matter, though. The only thing that was important was that his mother survived. She was okay, and for that he was too. He dug the bag out of his backpack, and started to count. He had never liked math, but he took an unusual interest in it right now. It didn’t take him long to count it, but when he finally had, he was bewildered. Twenty thousand dollars?! The tooth fairy must have made a mistake. He recounted the money, but it was the same amount. It was clear that he didn’t deserve this money, no matter how good of a tooth it was. His mother knocked on the door just then, so he tossed the bag of money in his closet. He was more excited to have dinner than the money. It was his first dinner with his mother in months, and the money would still be there afterwards. He walked to the sink, and rolled up his sleeves.

—-

As they ate, conversing and laughing, he couldn’t help but zoom out and wonder about the money. Why? Why me?

He couldn’t think of a satisfactory answer his own questions. All he knew was that he wasn’t worthy of this much money. He sighed, and tried his best to listen to his mother without getting in the way.

At some point, during a particularly sad conversation, his mother gave him some advice that he found brilliant.

“Covid has darkened so many hearts.”

“Keep the light, my dear boy.”

It seemed that she had been thinking about this for awhile. He would have been more touched by the uplifting speech if he hadn’t finally realized what he was supposed to do in it.

—-

Once dinner was finished, and his mother was occupied, washing their plates, Jack pranced up the stairs. He opened his closet, sat in the corner, and looked at the money. There was no time to wait. He finally knew why the tooth fairy gave him the money, and it was no mistake. It was meant to be this way, he concluded. He would help people, and do good as often as he was able to. His neighbor, Bessie, for example, wasn’t financially able to fix a crack in her window. He could offer her money for repairs. His Aunt, Martha, missed him dearly and went out of her way to take him in during his time of need. He could send her cards as thanks.

He wouldn’t stop there, though. He vowed against it. This time he knew he would stay true to his word, too.

He would be a keeper of the light.