I'll Meet You at the Station

It’s dark, and my world is about to change. Someone nearby is moaning. Voices in a language I don’t understand. We burst through the tunnel into bright light. I startle into consciousness with a gasp, open my eyes.

I try to focus. The world is blurry, black and white. I rub my eyes, shift in my seat, do a quick inventory: got all my fingers, check. I wiggle my toes, check. I look around. I’m in the last car, last row bench seat, under a bulkhead. Someone’s luggage tags dangle down, swaying with the train, in and out of view. I try to bat them away, then give up. I need to figure out what’s going on.

Grabbing the back of the seat in front of me, I hoist myself up but my legs feel weak, woozy. I fall back and give a snort of laugher, try to play it off like a joke. I land next to a backpack that’s between me and the wall. It’s got a couple patches sewn onto it. A train patch, one with my name. I open the pack’s main compartment, find a yogurt cup and down it quickly. Take a swig from a bottle of juice. Better, but I still don’t feel like myself.

A quick inventory of the bag. Some money, no ID. No ticket. A few simple books. Light blanket. Toiletries. Odds and ends. Nothing that tells me how I got here, or what to do now. Those questions seem urgent.

I stand, steadier now, my backpack over both shoulders. Toddling forward, I pass empty seats and come to a row with a wide window. I perch on the armrest and look out. We’re slowly chugging through a leafy suburb dappled in early morning light. A girl on a bike waves, whether to me or the train, I’m not sure. I wave back.

“You’re awake.”

I spin around and notice a woman in the row across from me. I look at her, uncertain. Maybe 30 years old than me, she has doughy figure and a book propped on a large purse in her lap.

“You were out for a while. I almost wondered if I should wake you.” She smiles. “We’ve gotta look out for each other. After a while, a train starts to feel like a little family.”

“Sure.” I don’t want to say too much until I get my bearings. But at least she speaks my language. “So, uh, where are we now?”

“Oh, let me show you. I have a map.” She puts a child’s drawing in her book to hold her place. She sees me looking at it and says, “I saved nearly every one.”

She fishes in her purse. I expect one of those free tourist maps. Instead, she produces something detailed, that folds into a leather folio. I sidle into the empty seat beside her as she unfurls the paper with the route and key points of interest. Pointing to the terminal where the train started, she tells me about what I missed before I got on, where we are now and a bit about what’s ahead. It’s more than I wanted to know, but she’s trying to be helpful. I glance past her, out the window.

She says, “We’ll be out of this area soon, then the train will go faster.”

I nod. She folds the map and hands it to me.

“You sure?” I take the leather folio and look at my bag. “I wish I could give you something in return.”

“Your company has been plenty. I’m getting off soon anyway.” She sounds reluctant. “It’s fitting, actually. The man who was sitting here before gave me this book when he finished. Now I’m giving this to you.”

“Well, thanks.” I open my backpack, slide the map inside.

She spots the books in my bag and says, “There’s a library section in this car. You should visit. It doesn’t stay open all that much longer.”

“Okay.” It comes out sounding dismissive.

“Go on, it’s good for you to walk around.”

Maybe she’s right. I say my goodbyes and shuffle down the aisle to a large booth with books and games. I duck in to see what I can learn about what’s really happening.

A bunch of guys come tumbling in after me. They’re loud, laughing, roughly my age, give or take a year or two.

“Oh good! We need a fourth to play,” one says. “I’m Mike. That’s Ray, and he’s Tony.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Mike sweeps me into a seat at a table. Someone unpacks a board game. Somehow we’re already friends. One game leads to another, something more complex. None of us have played these before, and we give each other shit as we struggle to figure out the rules.

A couple of girls come in, browse the books. They’re cute. Tony starts showboating, pulls off a card trick he learned from a cousin. I secretly hope the girl with a pixie cut will notice me. We make eye contact. She blushes. But I’m not as flashy as Tony. Nothing more.

After they leave, Ray checks out the books. I join him. The shelves are stuffed with every topic a traveler might wonder about: local history, geology, birds. I pull out a thick volume that seems familiar.

Ray looks over my shoulder. “Anything good?”

I make a noncommittal noise. It’s philosophy with pop-psychology flair, not my usual jam. But it’s jogging my memory. I have a mission, a reason I’m supposed to be on this train. I have a sinking feeling that something is going to go wrong, but can’t fill in the details.

“You going to stare at the books forever, or are we getting back to the game?” Mike is looking at me.

“Give me a sec.” I open by backpack, add a couple titles to the take-a-book-leave-a-book shelf and slip the one in my hand into my bag.

“Actually, I could use a break. Why don’t we see if those girls are in the bar car?” Tony’s thick eyebrows wriggle.

“Don’t need to ask me twice.” Mike is stands up, already half in corridor.

Ray starts sorting the game pieces.

“Just leave it,” Mike says. “Someone else will clean it up. A steward or something.”

Ray doesn’t look up. “Meet you there.”

The other two take off. I help Ray put the games away, pick up empty chip bags and slide crumbs into the bin.

“Thanks,” Ray says.

“Just seems right.”

We finish. “So, the bar car?” Ray asks.

I sling my pack over one shoulder. I don’t feel ready for whatever is ahead. “Can’t stay here the entire time.” I hope I sound light, breezy.

Ray heaves open the heavy metal door that separates the cars. Loud music rolls over us. We step through, and I notice that my pack is partly open. As I pull up the zipper, I realize that, in the commotion, I left the wrong book. The door has rolled back into place. I pull the handle. It won’t budge.

Ray tries it, too. Stuck. “We’ll get the steward. They’ll have a key.”

A collective shout erupts from the bar car. It makes me feel oddly alone. I cup my palm to peer through the door’s thick, cloudy glass and try to recall why the book was important. It had mattered so much to me.

Ray claps me on the shoulder. “We’ll come back.”

I try the door again. “Yeah. Alright.” I close the pack and turn away.

The bar car is hopping, people wedged together, shouting over the din. A clutch of women lean against the wall, drunkenly singing off-key. We press forward.

“Want a drink?” Ray yells.

“Nothing too strong. It’s early still.” I slip him a bill.

He angles toward the bar. I find a pocket of space. Drawn window shades create a false sense of twilight, making it easier to see the TV. The big game echoes across multiple high-mounted screens showing a stadium washed with gold and blue. Half the people around me are sporting the same colors.

A strange guy in face paint lurches close, hoots in my ear. “Our team’s bringing home the trophy. AmIrite! Gonna be a golden wave!” He gives me a high five and drifts away.

Ray reappears, pinching the necks of three bottles. “Look who I found!” He gives one to me, and one to Tony.

“Hey man, where you been?” Tony hooks an arm around the back of my neck, punches my shoulder. He raises a toast. To us. To the team!

A round of shots. One is pressed into each of my hands. Tony stands on a chair, gets the whole bar car chanting a familiar fight song. Screaming at every point, booing every bad call. Stomping and clapping in unison. I wonder if trains ever derail this way.

Soon, I’m hoarse and vaguely nauseous. “Hey guys, a yogurt and some chips won’t hold down shots and beer. I need to get some real food.” I remind myself I need to be more focused. Figure out the job that needs to get done, and do it. Food first.

“Chow?” Ray asks Tony.

“This party’s just getting started.” Tony sounds incredulous. “Go on. I’ll catch you later.”

“Be in the dining car.” I can’t tell if Ray looks amused or disappointed. Maybe both. After a few paces, he says, “Tony’ll never grow up.”

As we walk between cars, the wheels thunder. The train is moving much faster now. It pitches around a sharp curve as we slide open the door and step into a room with white linen and wool carpeting. Where the bar car was loud rock, this is soft classical music. If the bar crowd was practically a frat house, this is a corporate dining room, complete with a bow-tied maître d. Walking toward us now, she smiles at customers, asks if they need anything. Shit.

I realize I need something: a ticket. Don’t I? What if she asks for proof that I belong here? Will I be called out in front of Ray? In front of everyone?

“Good afternoon. Two for lunch?”

Anxiety threads from my gut to my very dry mouth. Please don’t make me get off the train, I think. Not before I finish with —.

“Of course,” she responds to whatever Ray must have said.

Bless you, Ray.

“You’ve come at the height of service, but we can seat you with a solo traveler, if you don’t mind.” She’s already leading us toward a table for four.

In the corner, a single woman is reviewing the menu. The maître d’ leaves us. The woman looks up, smiles. Her backlit hair seems practically iridescent, and there’s a warm intelligence in her eyes. She says something I don’t quite follow. Now I’m sitting across from her, Ray beside me.

She tells us her name. Angelica. Because of course it is. Ray and I introduce ourselves. I make a joke that falls flat.

I look around at patrons in crisp oxfords and shiny shoes, normal people who know where they’re going. I don’t feel like the hero, the spy on a train who outwits the assassin. I’m not even clear about how I’m going to proceed with the simplest things I need to do. I’m lost.

We place our orders. Ray says something that jump-starts the conversation. Soon, we’re rolling as fast as the wheels, flashing from one topic to the next, finding common ground, making each other laugh. Ray distracts himself with something on his phone, here but not present. Angelica and I exchange bites of food. Her hand brushes mine.

Ray excuses himself, holding up his phone by way of explanation. We barely notice. The tone turns confessional over coffee. We linger, order dessert. We. My body tingles at the thought of it. She gives me goosebumps.

When the staff politely shoo us out of the dining car, we walk forward together, melting into one another as the world speeds by. We tumble into Angelica’s private compartment, barely squeeze into the narrow fold-down bed. Her body is a continent. She tattoos the map of it into my eager skin. Into my heart.

Perhaps Joseph Campbell is right. I’m no longer seeking meaning, just this experience of being alive.

We lay entwined, dreaming together. Starting to make plans. This is fast. But everything seems to be happening faster now. She gives me goosebumps. She gives me courage.

Angelica looks out the window. “We’re passing through the city already.”

“We are?” I think of the map the older woman gave me, wonder if we’re on schedule.

“See?” She shifts so I can get a better view of brutalist concrete blocks and glass-clad skyscrapers emblazoned with logos for banks, tech giants and car companies. She sighs. “I should probably check in with work.”

She washes up in the little pull-out sink, pulls a nice blouse and tailored pants from her suitcase. “Come on, let’s go,” she says, swatting at me with the hand towel.

I stand, collect myself. “Go…where, exactly?”

“What is it called, the quiet car?” She slides a laptop into a leather satchel, leans over and grazes my stubble with her lips. “There’s better wifi so I can send a PowerPoint I was working on, check my email.”

I grab my bag and follow her down the corridor. At the far end, a supply closet door is unlatched and a broom handle has fallen out, angled against the far wall. The train is moving fast, I realize. Faster than it has. Angelica slides her hand in mine to steady herself as she steps over it. She looks back at me, and I lean forward to kiss her, then hop over the broom myself. I wedge it back into the little compartment and latch the door.

I’m about to comment on the speed and the broom, when Angelica says, “That was nice.” She kisses me again, pulls me close and takes a selfie. “I just want to remember this moment,” she says.

I feel a powerful urge to go back to her sleeper. Instead, I yank on the door between cars. There’s a sharp smell of metal grinding against metal. The massive train shakes, drumming from my feet up and through my skull. I grab Angelica’s hand, reflexively trying to keep her safe.

“Is it supposed to be this loud?” It sounds like she’s trying to decide if she should be concerned.

“I don’t know.” The train is moving faster now. It seems to pick up speed every time I move between cars, accelerating just like the older woman said it would. I wonder how much faster it can go.

I quickly usher us into the working car.

The heavy door clinks closed, and it’s suddenly quiet. There are rows of people tapping away on their computers, reading documents and sorting through files.

Angelica checks her phone, sighs. “I’m sorry, but I need to pop into one of the telephone booths. My boss wants me to join a video conference, and there are a few things I need to finish first.” She gives me an apologetic look. “It shouldn’t be that long. And we can have dinner together.”

“It’s okay. I won’t go far.” I look for a place to sit, and pass Ray and Mike working on their laptops.

“Hey guys. Didn’t think I’d see you here,” I say.

“Yeah, we’re trying to make a little more progress on that start-up idea we mentioned, back in the bar car,” Mike says.

“Man, if you want to tap in, we can run this by you, see what you think,” Ray offers.

I look around. There isn’t an open seat near them. Plus, I don’t understand anything about their concept. “Really appreciate the offer. Not sure I’d be much use to you, though. I need to figure a few things out myself first.” I run my hands through my hair, shake my head.

“You mean with Angelica?” Ray smiles. “How is she?”

It instantly feels like I stepped into a sauna, flush and warm. “She’s so good. Amazing. She’s back there getting some work done herself.”

“Gotcha. Well, there were a few open seats up ahead,” Mike tells me, already looking back at his laptop.

I file forward, find a spot with an open, public terminal. The internet connection is slow, but it works. I reply to a bunch of email, then check on Angelica. She’s working on her PowerPoint and I offer to help with some research. When that’s done, I catch up on some things myself while she takes a few calls. I go see how Ray and Mike are doing. They’ve moved to a bigger table, buried in papers and schematics. They’re staring intently at a screen, so caught up in debating a point that they don’t notice me. They look tired.

At my terminal, I hunt and peck and try to piece things together. I feel like I should have figured out more by now. But maybe I never will. I waste time on the internet, answer a few more email. I pull out the library book, but the questions that seemed so provocative earlier now just seem dull. It’s been a long day.

My back hurts from all this time sitting on the train. I twist in my seat trying to relieve it. I walk back and wait while Angelica finishes presenting her strategy. I overhear some of it, and it sounds like she’s in total command of the meeting. She looks satisfied when she wraps up, done for the day, I hope.

“I’m impressed,” I say.

“Thanks. It went better than I thought.” She shuts down her laptop. “You didn’t mind waiting?”

“For you? I have nothing else to wait for.”

She takes my face in her hands. “You’re the best part of this trip.” She sees over my shoulder, out the window. “Oh babe, it’s so much later than I thought. Let’s go watch the sunset.”

We loop pinkies and walk back toward Ray and Mike. They have a call on speaker. Ray sees us and mutes it. “I think we’re about to close the deal!”

“Congrats,” I say, fist pump the air with my free hand.

Angelica offers, “We’re done for the day. Meet us in the observation car, and we’ll celebrate.”

Ray gives a thumbs up. Mike is off mute, talking deal terms.

A few rows up, Angelica pauses. “I don’t want this trip to end.”

“I know. Me either.” I squeeze her finger. “Let’s go enjoy the view.”

It’s harder walking between cars this time. I feel unsteady on my feet, extend a hand to keep my balance as the train rocks and roars.

“Definitely speeding now,” I shout.

She signals that she can’t hear.

We sway into the quiet of the observation car. There’s an old man enjoying a drink and a couple of old ladies in overstuffed lounge chairs playing Rummy, but mostly, the space is ours. Angelica and I sit for a while in silence, staring at the blur of open fields.

Eyes trailing over a woman down the aisle, Angelica says, “Looks relaxing. Maybe I should take up knitting, too.”

“Does that mean I need to take up golf?”

“I can’t picture it.” She smirks. “Maybe get you and the guys matching plaid outfits?”

Ray appears. “Mind if I join you?”

“We were just talking about you.” I motion to one of the seats. “Please. We want to hear all about that deal you signed.”

“Yeah, we sold the company, but I’m actually here with sad news.” Something in his tone makes my stomach drop. He continues, “Tony had a heart attack.”

“What?”

“The medics did what they could, but he was gone when they got to him. There’s even a doctor on board, but still. He didn’t make it.”

“What?” I repeat. “But we were just —” My voice catches.

“I know,” Ray says. “I feel it too.”

“How could he just –“ I look at Angelica, uncomprehending.

She squeezes my knee. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“But he’s the life of the party.” I drop my face into my hands. “Remember him standing on the table during the big game?”

“Tony would have gotten those ladies by the door off Rummy and into an all-night poker game.”

I give a snort of acknowledgement. “That sounds like him, all right.”

“I would have loved to know him,” Angelica says.

“Oh, he’d have really loved you,” Ray replies. He and I look at each other and smile, then start laughing.

A few minutes pass in silence. Ray says, “At the rate we’re moving now, train should arrive early. I better go make some calls, let people know.”

“Give our condolences.” I give Ray a hug before he goes, notice we’re moving so fast the women’s cards are sliding across the table as they try to hold them in place.

Ray holds onto the seat-backs as he makes his way to a more private spot.

Angelica and I stare at the sunset. Pensively, she asks, “You don’t regret any of this, do you?”

I think of the map. I wish I had made more use of it, that I had someone to give it to. I sigh.

“What?” She looks at me.

“This has been a strange day. It didn’t go at all the way I thought it would.” I see her expression. “That’s not about you. About us. You’re more than I could have hoped for, and I feel like we’re just getting started.”

She smiles. “What is it then?”

I shrug. “It’s already dusk and I still have more questions than answers. I guess I expected to know more, do more.”

“Don’t we all?”

“I guess.” The air pressure rises as we pass another train at speed. My ears pop. “I wish I could rewind. I feel like I missed something important, somewhere.”

“But if you got a do-over, maybe then you’d miss something else.” She stares across the empty landscape. This fast, it’s just a post-impressionist smear of colors and shapes.

We seem to accelerate. The windows shake. I look around. The old man’s drink sloshes over the edge of his glass. The women are packing up their cards. Something’s not right.

Angelica looks at me, trying to gauge my reaction. “Maybe we should see what’s going on.”

“You mean ask a porter?” I don’t want to do that.

The train lurches. “Or maybe a priest,” she says. If she meant to sound lighthearted, it doesn’t work.

The sound of the wheels is even louder now.

Angelica says, “Seriously, though. Why not check with the engineer? The conductor is just in the next compartment.”

I’d rather just stay here, with her, gripping my seat.

One of the old ladies crosses herself. Angelica looks at me. “I can go,” she says.

“No. Let me do it.” I stand slowly, hold the seat for balance. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” I’m not sure of that, at all.

She nods. “I’ll miss you.”

I kiss her hand.

Staggering forward, I tip my imaginary hat toward the old ladies. I reach the end of the train.

Between cars, a hurricane of sound. It thrums in my ears like blood pressure. I’m keenly aware of the weight bearing down behind me. Hundreds of tons of steel and glass, baggage and lives, the entirety of my world.

I force a deep breath. Maybe passengers aren’t allowed up here. Maybe the door won’t open. Maybe they’ll ask for a ticket, demand to know where I’m going. I’m totally unprepared. But the smell of the metal, the rising wail, the thought of Angelica waiting, it all pushes me forward.

I grab the door handle. I feel like something is about to catch up to me. If this were a game of hide-and-seek, the kid playing “it” is about to find my hiding spot. But isn’t that life, in a nutshell?

The conductor’s back is to me, but he hears me, waves me in. The door latches. The absence of noise is palpable. My body releases a tension I didn’t realize it held.

He tugs the whistle once. A whistle is the sound of air moving across a gap. There’s a tunnel ahead.

He turns around. In his face, I see myself.

It’s dark, and my world is about to change.