Drawing a Blank

He awoke suddenly to the sound of tiny feet running past him. Squinting at the bright light, he raised his hand to shield his eyes and found a paper stuck to his forehead. He slowly peeled the paper revealing nothing but an oily smear where his forehead had been. Too many times had he stared endlessly at a blank sheet of paper. He crumpled it up and stuffed it in his pocket.

As he looked around the train car, he tried to remember how he had gotten there. The repetitive murmur of the train over the tracks felt like a low hum beneath him. It reminded him of a heartbeat.

The windows revealed little as to his whereabouts. The darkness of the night shadowed everything in blackness. There was no light from the moon or stars to give him any indication of where he was. Why couldn’t he remember?

Surely there had to be lights from nearby street lamps, or houses. Nothing! Not the tiniest shimmer. He began feeling uneasy. A knotted feeling welled in his stomach. Fear, his familiar friend.

He turned around and began to say “does anyone know wh…” only to find the entire train car was empty. The feeling now clenched at his chest, like pieces were ripping from his heart and being pulled into the vice growing in his stomach. Where the hell am I? He thought.

The footsteps… the running! There had to be someone else! Which way did they go? He reluctantly stood up and walked toward the exit at the front of the car. He thought for a moment about staying put. Someone would come around after a while. He could wait. Turning back toward his seat, he almost sat back down, until he looked back at the empty car. It was the weight of being so alone, without answers and no timeline for resolution that moved him forward. Though he wasn’t sure if he should be more afraid of what he might find.

Pulling the doors took significant effort. He hadn’t been on a train in ages, but he could have sworn the doors opened electronically. Was there an accident or short in the electrical system? He wished he knew more about this sort of thing.

He had been through so many doors that he had lost count. He decided to rest in one of the seats to catch his breath. He hadn’t worked that hard since his job with the construction company. It was a thankless job, carrying wheelbarrows full of cement, only to dump them out and repeat ad nauseum. The mind-numbing repetition of it all left him depleted and miserable. His coworkers either hated him or avoided him. Not that there was much time to socialize. The bosses would berate anyone caught slacking off. Yelling about deadlines and contracts and… well, honestly he stopped listening after a while. He always had a problem with daydreaming. In school, at work, and in relationships. Anytime a situation became more than he cared to deal with, off to wonderland he went. Why focus on menial tasks when he could explore his limitless mind? He felt the familiar pull to something more interesting, then he heard a cough.

“Hello?” he said, gingerly.

A head sprang up, from one of the benches.

“Howdy,” the strange character replied.

He looked as though he’d been napping. He wondered if he’d woken up on this train too, or if he always looked like that. He looked to be no older than 17. His hair was greasy and uncombed. His clothes were stained and ripped. Though it was hard to tell if it was stained or just the splatter of color on his shirt. He didn’t care to wear that much color. It brought too much attention, but this kid didn’t seem to mind.

This boy wasn’t the sort of person he had hoped to find but he was grateful to not be alone anymore. The man walked over to the booth where the kid sat and slid into the open seat across from him.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked.

“Nope! And I don’t really care.” the kid replied. “All I give a shit about is where I’m going!”

“Oh yeah, and where is that exactly?”

“To the top!” the kid replied, finger pointing to the ceiling. He sat back proudly, a smirk formed on his face.

He scoffed at his reply. He remembered his own youthful exuberance, believing that the world would open up to anyone with the right amount of ambition and vision. How quickly that dies when you get into the real world.

“So you got a plan there, ace?” he replied.

“Don’t need one. I’ve got skills! Even if nobody else wants to admit it. They’re just jealous.” His smug look turned to one of contempt.

“My sister’s Miss Perfect,” he said in a mocking tone. “Straight A’s, captain of every team, never takes a foot out of line, blah, blah blah… yes daddy, I’ve got it mommy” he clenched his face together, in disgust. “She’s nothing but a kiss ass!”

“Nobody appreciates my brilliance. So what if she can recite the periodic table. She’s just spitting out shit other people tell her to. I envision, I create! I bring the world something it desperately needs!”

“What’s that, oh wise one?” he replied.

“LIFE!” he stated emphatically. He pulled a blank sheet of paper from the table in between them. “I take an empty sheet of paper and turn it into something that stirs the soul, that fuels emotion! I breathe life into the emptiness of reality!” He shook the paper in the air to make his point.

He moved his head away from the boy to avoid being slapped in the face by his careless waving. He said in reply, “you’re in for a rude awakening, boy. What could you possibly know about life? You’ve got about enough life experience to fill a shot glass.”

“Go ahead and mock me. They all do. But, people like you need me. Nothing but a bunch of zombies looking for a brain. When what they need… is a heart.”

Growing tired of the banter, and remembering for a moment why he’s even there, he blurted out, “do you know why we’re here, or how we got here? Have you seen a way out? Is it just us here? Does this ever stop?”

The boy replied, "woah, woah… those are some very deep questions. Aren’t you too jaded to care about that stuff?”

Rolling his eyes, he got out of his seat and headed toward the door. As he walked away, he said over his shoulder, “I’m getting nowhere with you. We’re going in circles.”

Laughing, the boy said, “we’re on the same train man! We’ve got no choice but to go in circles! You can choose to do a lot with a circle, though. It’s on you if you decide to make a chain.”

With great effort, he began to open the door when he remembered something. The footsteps!

Regretfully, he turned to ask one final question. “There was someone that might have run past here. I think it was a kid. Did you see them?”

The teen replied, grabbing a pencil and the sheet of paper, “Nope, haven’t seen any kids. But if I was a kid, I’d run from you too!”

Twenty-two more cars! He had gone through twenty-two more cars to find nothing, not a shadow, or a footprint, or a whisper. Nothing to give him any hope that this would ever make sense. That he would ever find an answer!

Feeling defeated, he leaned up against the wall of the train. The weight of hopelessness dragged him to the floor. He took a few deep breaths and felt his mind begin to drift. He thought about his interaction with the boy. Why was he so calloused toward him? He was not too unlike himself, especially at that age. He wished he could shake the boy, give him a good slap on the face and tell him to stop living his life in an unrealistic world. He needs to make a plan and follow through, get it all figured out now so that he’s not left scrambling in his 40s, like him. He had wasted so much time. All of his lofty ambitions birthed pathetic failures. A whole lifetime of fruitless endeavors.

And he was so lonely. He remembered what she said to him. Every word. Because it cut him to his core. Standing there in the doorway of what had once been their apartment, he asked her what he did wrong. Her reply, “There are winners and losers in this world. I used to think anyone could change. Now because of you, I take people at face value. You’re a failure, Jim, and you always will be.”

She was the one person that believed in him, at least, she used to. He never knew the level of love he could feel for one person, or the black hole that would be left in their absence. She’d left him for some young entrepreneur. The typical young guy with more money than he knows what to do with. This guy was successful at everything he ever failed at. He tried desperately not to imagine the two in bed. To know that he had failed her in that way too… he couldn’t bear it. That clenching feeling in his stomach had returned, but now it churned and pulled slightly at the back of his throat, as if he might vomit. Tears began to fill his eyes.

“Get off the floor, you lazy bum!” a voice cried out.

“Huh?” Jim said, looking around. Was there someone there the whole time? There couldn’t be. He knew it was empty!

“You, on the floor, get up! Only filth falls to the floor! Are you filth?” the voice continued.

“Umm…” is all the man could reply as he got up and wiped the tears from his eyes. As he stood, he saw a man in a business suit, glaring at him over a pair of glasses.

“Spoken like a true winner,” he responded disdainfully. With a furrowed brow, he continued, “and you’re crying too… pathetic!”

Jim straightened himself out but remained where he stood, feeling more than a little unwelcome.

“What’s the matter, did little Billy’s feelings get hurt,” he said in a mocking tone.

“Well, I…” was all he could squeeze out before he was interrupted.

“Grow up, son!” the curmudgeon replied.

Son? He thought. They looked to be about the same age.

“The world isn’t candies and kittens. You need balls! So grab them and man up! You think I got where I am today by crying when things didn’t go my way? Hell, no! When I failed, I got up and kept going. When I fell, I got up and kept going. When they pushed me, I pushed back!” he stated, emphatically.

“You do have balls don’t you?” he asked, glancing briefly at the man’s pants.

Feeling exposed, Jim clasped his hands at his crotch.

“Of course, I do. I just… I don’t know. I’m confused and it doesn’t seem like I’m ever getting out of this situation.”

“Oh I see,” the man said, softening his tone. With his head down, he pinched his chin, as if in deep thought. He walked toward the man and put an arm around his shoulder. Lovingly, he said, “aw, you’re just confused and you want answers. You want to know that everything’s gonna work out just fine. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna get you a road map that tells you every little bump and dip along the way so you don’t ever have to fall on that pampered lil’ behind ever again, that sound good?” He finished in an overly sweet, degrading tone.

Slapping him on the back of the head, he exclaims “Well too bad! You’re not special! Nobody knows what’s coming next! Why should you get to? You gotta be able to take the hits as they come.”

As he said that, he pushed Jim back, causing him to lose his footing. He caught himself just before he fell.

“What are you doing?” Jim asked.

The businessman swung his left fist, followed by his right, just missing Jim’s face.

“Teaching you a lesson!” he said, swinging again, this time striking his stomach with such force that he could hardly breathe.

He was doubled over in pain and gasping for air. He strangely missed the painful way his stomach felt only moments ago. This was much worse. He managed to squeeze out the words, “what did I ever do to you?”

His mocking continued. “What’s that? Could barely hear you over your wheezing. What’s the matter? Did that hurt?” He chuckled, bouncing on his toes in preparation for another swing. He shadowboxed playfully.

“WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?”, the man yelled!

“Oooohh, looks like someone’s finally getting feisty. To deserve what? A lesson? Nothing, nothing at all. Just my gift to you.” He extended his arms as if giving him a present. His proud smile betrayed his true intentions.

Grunting, Jim blurts out, “hope you kept the receipt.”

“Glad to see you’ve got some sass, let me help you out with that.”

With Jim doubled over, the businessman swung his fist, landing an uppercut across Jim’s face, knocking him to the floor. He laid there, dumbfounded. His ears began to ring and he could feel tears forming. He could feel the clanging of the train along his body. It reminded him of where he was. He wondered if he would ever escape this hell. He wondered if this was hell.

“Look boy, I’m gonna let you in on something, cause I’m a nice guy and frankly, I hate to see a baby cry. If you keep lying there feeling sorry for yourself I’m gonna take the heel of this foot right here, and slam it into those plums that I’m still wondering if you’ve got.”

Leaning forward he continues, “I don’t know if you’ve ever had your nuts crushed like that, but you’ll probably throw up. The pain shoots right to your gut!”

“Just think of everything you’d be giving up… maybe forever.” Still waiting for a reply, he yells, “do you hear that? I’m about to snap your twig and juice your berries! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? You’ve got life-giving seed swimming around in there. You really wanna give up your chance to create something?” he asks, waiting for a glimmer of a response from the puddle of a man on the floor.

Standing up, he says, “No, I guess not. You’re a weak man. You’re just gonna let me beat you up, tear you down, and walk away. You’ve got nothing worth protecting anyway, isn’t that right? I’d be doing the world a favor. Can’t let a failure like you create yet another failure,” he finishes, as he shakes his head.

With a sigh, he lifts his knee to his chest and puts all of his force into slamming his foot on the poor man’s genitals. The despondent man makes no effort to move away from the threat.

As his shoe makes contact with the floor, Jim slides his body back, just out of harm’s way.

“Well, well, well… I was starting to think you liked being tortured.” He reaches down to help Jim up, but Jim slaps his hand out of the way. With great effort and considerable moaning, he returns to his feet.

“Now, is that how you’re gonna treat your teacher?” The businessman says.

“Teacher!” he exclaims. “You beat me and insulted me and you nearly castrated me via foot! In what world does that qualify you as any kind of teacher?”

“Oh, please! All the best lessons hurt like hell. How else would you remember? Should leave a nice scar. Lucky for you, you found something worth fighting for before it was too late. You’ll survive. Some people get so beat down they don’t ever come up. Be grateful, son!”

The businessman collected himself and returned to the table where his work lay waiting for him. He picked up his pencil and papers and went about his business.

“Great, I found a reason to fight, thanks to your bat shit crazy lessons! Thank you for blessing me, oh, masterful teacher,” he said, sarcastically. “It still doesn’t help me get the hell out of this place!”

In a wispy voice, he responded, like a venerated monk, “The only way out is through.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” said Jim, frustrated and confused.

Pointing toward the door, the man said matter-of-factly, “Through! If you want to go out, go through the door!” He shook his head scornfully and went back to his paperwork.

The man thought to ask about the child but decided he’d had enough of this mad man and left without looking back.

“The only way out is through”

This message kept repeating in his head as he traveled through several more train cars. He had almost forgotten what he was searching for. The doors were becoming increasingly harder to open. His recent “lesson” probably had something to do with it. Despite this, he found strength each time by repeating the message the businessman had given him. He hated to admit it, but it did help.

As he opened a door to enter the gangway, he found the door to the next car wouldn’t open. This one wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t just heavy and resistant, it was locked. He peered inside the window and found that the cab was dark. It seemed as though the lights inside had been damaged. He continued to try to open the door to no avail. For a moment, he considered going back, but he shuddered at the thought of going for round 2 with the businessman.

He looked but saw no mechanism to unlock the door. He reasoned that someone must have locked it from inside the car. So he did something that he felt crazy doing on a nearly empty train… he knocked.

He heard nothing. There was no sign of life on the other side. If he was wrong, then this was the end of the line. His journey was over and he was left with no more answers than when he began.

“The only way out is through,” he repeated. But what if the way through is blocked? Is there no way out? He thought.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, in limbo. Waiting for direction, waiting for an idea that could explain this strange phenomenon, waiting for anything to stop this train. He reflected on his life. He thought about the people he missed. He wondered what they would think about him being gone. Would they miss him? He didn’t make time for people in his life. He’d become someone that always needed someone, and at the same time, always pushed them away.

After his failed relationship, he bounced from one couch to the other, fortunate to have a few family and friends left that cared. She had kicked him out after he lost his job. Sales was never something that he saw himself doing, but he was desperate for security. At the interview, he swallowed his reticence and lied through his teeth! She was pulling away from him, he needed to prove that he could provide. Isn’t that what a man is supposed to do? He was determined to make this work. For her! At least that’s what he told himself.

In truth, he had given up on trying to make his dreams a reality. They struggled each month to make ends meet in that tiny apartment. One income wasn’t enough. He wrestled with guilt every day for not being able to be the man that she needed. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he pull himself together and get a “real job” like everyone else? It was just a job after all. He could leave whenever he wanted, as soon as he finally got his dreams off the ground. It’s not like people get stuck in dead-end jobs and slowly waste away. That never happens… Well, it happens a lot, but he was determined not to let it happen to him.

At first, he did great, emblazoned by the opportunity to finally succeed at something. This was his chance! But as time went by, he could feel himself diminishing. His focus turned toward making quotas and reaching goals set by others. Each month they became harder to reach. Achievement is fueled by passion after all, and his true passion was never for selling lies and useless things for endless consumption. His passions thrived on the very essence of life itself, luminous and poetic. But, survival forces other agendas. Staying alive becomes your only priority and you quickly become lost.

Driven by this need to survive and to fit the mold, he grew more empty with each passing day. It started like a tiny weight, in his stomach that hung from his heart, until it grew. It sucked every ounce of life out of him, ripping his heart in two. His misery was palpable. They had to let him go, or risk it infecting the company.

Emptiness works like that. It has a way of sucking into it anything and everything around it. Every bit of hope vanishes. He had gone to some dark places. Places he’d never told anyone about. He couldn’t. They’d all been so kind to help him. What kind of sadist would willingly pull his loved ones into despair? So he pulled away. Away from everyone. Away from everything.

The pulsing sound of the train over the tracks continued beneath him. Like a mother’s heartbeat, it brought him comfort. It was a gentle reminder of when he last felt safe and nurtured. Standing up, he tried to shake from his mind the memories of his dark past. It perplexed him that he could remember so much about his past and nothing about how he got there. He needed answers!

Reluctantly, he tried the door once more, on some small glimmer of hope that something might happen. It didn’t. Exasperated, he yelled, “is anyone there?”

There was no answer.

Softly, he continued, “... I’m so alone.”

At that, the door opened, just a crack. Breathing a sigh of shock and relief, he pried the door open and stepped inside the darkened train car. He paused. The contrast of light had temporarily blinded him. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear something. A whimper. It was coming from the corner of the car. He carefully felt around with his feet until he reached the corner where he heard the sound. His eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness. Vaguely, he made out the shadow of a man, huddled in a fetal position.

“Are you ok?”, he said to the shadowy man.

The man made no effort to look at him. He stared off into the darkness, expressionless.

“I heard crying, are you hurt?” Jim asked.

“It comes and goes…” the man replied weakly.

“What does?” said Jim.

“The sadness. I feel it… until I can’t anymore. Then… I feel nothing” he said feebly. “But, it comes back. It always comes back.”

Jim looked at the man, more clearly now that he could. He reminded him of himself. He tried to think of words of comfort but struggled to find any. What would he have needed to hear to pull him out of his misery? He wondered if words alone could have that power.

Coming to the floor beside the poor man, Jim felt his depression return. He empathized with him. Perhaps this man had gotten stuck on this train too. Maybe he’d been through every car and found himself stuck here, forever… with no hope and no way out. Sinking further, he began to accept that this was his fate, that he would be stuck on this endless train, running in perpetual circles until his last breaths, directionless, hopeless. He closed his eyes, as a tear fell from his face.

Time passed as the train rolled on. He had no way of knowing how long he’d been there in the darkness. All he could hear was his breathing, it had begun to sync with the sound of the train rumbling on the tracks below.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind.

“The only way out is through.”

Moving only his eyes, he glanced toward the front of the train car, where a door should be. It was so dark, that he couldn’t make out if there was one. He didn’t know if he could, but he had to try. If he stayed there, nothing would change. Gathering his strength, he crawled forward. As he got close, he could make out the outline of a door. He pulled himself up and peered out of the window. He could see through the gangway to the lit car before him.

The possibility of ending this nightmare gave him a renewed sense of hope. He tried to open the door. It was the worst one yet. He squeezed his body between the doors. Using his hands and feet, he pushed the doors in either direction. He was losing strength. His arms shook and his legs felt like they might buckle. Bringing his mind inward, he focused on his breath, on his goal, on everything he’d be losing if he gave up now. With every bit of energy and will he had left, he finally pushed the doors open.

As they locked into place, he fell to the floor, panting. He turned to leave when he remembered the man. He couldn't leave him! He ran back toward him and shook him.

“Hey, it’s ok. I found a way out! We don’t have to stay here. There’s light over there. There’s a chance!” Jim said excitedly, pulling him by the arm. The man felt like he had a weight hanging around his neck!

He continued dragging him across the floor. “C’mon! You gave up too soon. There was a way out the whole time, you just couldn’t see it through all of this darkness.”

“Get up man! You don’t have to take my word for it, see for yourself,” he said as they reached the door and he released his arm.

The man just laid there, curled up on the floor.

“What’s the matter with you? Why won’t you even try? I can’t do everything for you, you have to want it!” he exclaimed.

Frustrated, he bent down and grabbed his arm again to pull him through the door. The jerking motion caused a crumpled piece of paper to fall out of the man’s pocket. Looking down at the wad on the floor, he remembered the paper from before. Carefully, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out.

Staring at the paper, it hit him! He finally began to understand. It was him! They were him! The naive and cocky visionary living in a dream world of possibilities. The career-minded tormentor, focused on work and success, berating him for not having the courage to be true to himself. The hollow man, too weak to move, lifeless, and alone. They were all roles he had played at one point in his life. But why were they all on this train? Had he died? What was he missing?

The footsteps!

He ran toward the door to the next train car and for the first time, opened it with ease. There sitting on the floor in the middle of the car, as if waiting for him, was a little boy. He was drawing a picture on a piece of paper. Jim watched intently as he drew. He smiled at the memory of his own first drawings.

When the boy had finished, he handed it to Jim. Jim admired the details, the shading, and the skill he had. It was a picture of a train. It was beautiful, vivid and abstract. He had rare talent for a child so young.

He leaned forward and looked the boy in the eyes.

“You have a beautiful gift! You have to share it with the world. Gifts are meant to be given.”

The boy’s eyes lit up! He ran toward Jim with arms wide open. Jim knelt to embrace him. As the two met, the boy fell into Jim. Their bodies merged. Waves of light danced throughout him. He was flooded with emotion. His walls had finally come down. A joy that he had forgotten was possible, filled him completely. It was the joy of a child at play, careless and free. He could feel his heart beating deeper and more fully. The beating grew louder. It felt like his heart was lifting out of his body.

Thump… THUMP…. THUMP!

“CLEAR!” a voice shouted in the distance.