Moments of Clarity

Eyes fluttered open slowly, to the sickening screech of metal on metal echoing in his ears, blurring the awareness between reality and the rapidly fading dream, not knowing which had roused him from his sleep. In the haze his memory felt fuzzy. He didn’t remember boarding the train. The gentle ongoing rumble threatened to lull him back into the drowsy space between worlds, but his eyes suddenly fixed on a face in the seat in front of him: a woman with dark hair and fine features, her hazel eyes darting around anxiously above cheeks flushed with worry. Life had worn her in comparison to the memory he held in his mind, but he would have known her anywhere.

“Nora? Is that you?,” he asked, the rasp in his own voice surprising him.

The woman turned to him, the fear in her face melting momentarily to shock before relief and a lovely warmth filled her coy smile, “you… you recognize me?,” she asked haltingly, not wanting to believe.

“Of course I recognize you, Nora. It’s been a few years, but I would know that beautiful smile anywhere.”

She blushed, years of weariness leaving her eyes in that one generous statement.

“Oh, Howard…,” she began.

“It’s true,” he interjected, ”You’re as lovely as the day I first met you. How have you been, Nora? I’ve missed you dearly.”

A mist of tears and deep affection set around her pupils, turning them to a deep well of feeling he knew better than to assume he understood. She took a breath. She had been longing for this moment, waiting for the exhale she wasn’t sure would come. Waiting for the breath when she Ould let go of all the burdens she had been carrying alone for so long, to share them with the only man she had ever considered her partner and confidant. In that breath, the world closed off around them. The hum of the train, the rush of passengers, the world flashing by the windows all faded to black. If there was commotion or silence around them, neither could tell. The world outside of them no longer mattered. Their destination was meaningless. It was her and her love once more, at last, in the sweet dance of caring conversation, peeling back all the layers, the years of separation and loneliness.

“Life has been so hard since we last spoke,” she confessed. “I’ve been so tired and overwhelmed.”

“Oh, my dear. It pains me to hear that.” He stood, his hand reaching automatically for a cane he didn’t know he needed. She startled to help him, the small stack of files shifting in her lap before he waved her down with a capable air of confidence. Grasping her outstretched hand in tenderness rather than necessity, he settled smoothly into the seat next to her, dispatching the cane so he could grasp her left hand gently in both of his own. His fingers traced the simple gold wedding band that sat gracefully on her finger with a slight twinge in his heart. The wrinkles on their hands were soft and so different. The veins told stories he didn’t know. Her hands had been so smooth when he had placed a band just like this one on her finger, swearing until death do us part. He swallowed deliberately, burying the confusion and judgment his pride wanted to press to the surface. “I’d be happy to listen, if sharing would lighten the load,” he shared instead.

The exhale came then, and out came all the worries tumbling from her heart, all the things she had been carrying upon her shoulders were set between them. She told him how her husband had fallen ill, that they had just come from the doctor, who had urged her to place him in skilled care. He had been so sick that she had been handling the finances, the house, everything alone for years. She never really understood all the investments he had told her about or how to manage all of that. He had taken care of everything. The roof needed repairing on the house and the faucet leaked. She wasn’t even sure who to call anymore. Their son came by sometimes, but he was so busy with his own family, three small children and a career. Though really she was sure seeing his father unwell was just too heartbreaking to be around. He idolized his Dad, always so kind and capable. He had finally agreed to take the car in for repairs on his last visit, but that left her riding the train to appointments. And Gods, she was so lonely, so unbelievably lonely. It all came spilling out as his presence drank in every word, eyes soft and concerned.

“It seems you were very… happy? Before your… husband got…sick?” He asked tentatively, his grip on her hand faltering as the train below them lurched.

“Yes,” she responded gently and carefully. “He was such a caring father and husband. I never had to worry about anything. So knowledgable and generous. He worked so hard to provide for us. We were just beginning to enjoy retirement and traveling and the grandkids when he was diagnosed. I thought we would have more time,” she trailed off, the grief of lost dreams hanging in the air between them.

His heart gave another jolt, imagining all the times they had talked about what they would do with their retirement, all the places they would go, remembering how he was as a husband and father, but he swallowed the pain and tried to stay present. No sense dragging up the past that way. Though he couldn’t help but asking about their own son.

“He misses you,” she replied. “His oldest is seven now. He’s a wild little thing. Just like Henry when he was that age. Do you rememb-“ she started then swallowed the word.

“Of course I do! Constant energy! We would have so much fun,” he jumped in with fond happiness. “He was always climbing into the apple trees and chasing your chickens. We started the treehouse that year.”

Her face softened with a laugh. “Yes! Well, they only have a cat, who finds it just as amusing as my old grumpy rooster did,” she joked before pausing. “He asks me all the time now how you did it all. He wants to be a Dad just like you,” she added in a whisper barely audible above the cacophony of phone calls and worried voices raising in the background above the train’s growing roar.

They fell naturally and comfortably in reminiscing about the old days. High school, that trip to California when he proposed on the beach. The early days of marriage and college. Finding his way in teaching. How happy they had been to become parents. The family vacations and camping trips. They laughed and poured over the details of their life together. The conversation went on and on until it was abruptly interrupted by the same jarring screech of metal that had first stirred him from his dream.

It awoke them again to the stir around them, and he looked up momentarily. Something seemed strange. A few women were sitting nearby, small children clung to their chests, dark streaks trailing down the mothers’ cheeks as they all shook softly. People rushed up and down the aisle shouting indistinct orders. He tuned them out as the train entered a tunnel. Little sparks seemed to jump outside the windows of the train, but he couldn’t focus on what it might mean. Their small universe of connection was just too captivating to tend to the possibilities of the world around them.

In the safety of the darkness of the tunnel, he confessed, “I don’t even remember, Nora. What happened? Why did I ever leave?”

“You never left, Howard. You never left,” she replied, reaching up to caress his face with her free hand just as the light of the sun returned at the tunnel’s end. It was meant to be comforting, but it sent a momentary panic twirling in his stomach, as the train gave a sudden tug to the side, spilling the files from Nora’s lap onto the floor.

The children clinging to their mothers screamed, and he could hear the man in the row in front of him reciting a prayer he vaguely remembered from childhood. An attendant ran up the aisle shouting for everyone to brace themselves. He reached to collect the papers that were scattered on the floor from the files, hearing Nora say faintly, “leave them, Howard. They don’t matter now,” as she clutched his arm.

But something new had caught his eye: medical records, carefully typed. The words “Advanced Dementia” jumped out to him from the page, and he snatched it from the floor as the next bend of the track scattered the remaining papers further away. He studied the typing, morbidly curious and frightened all at once. The noise around him tried to drown out his dawning realization. In the corner of the paper, where he expected the name of Nora’s mysteriously wonderful new husband was written, he carefully read, “Howard Patterson.” His breath caught in his throat.

The paper dropped to the floor, and he looked at Nora, tears welling in his eyes to match those he saw reflected in hers. Overwhelming guilt washed over him, for all the things he couldn’t protect her from.

“I’m.. Nora… I’m so so-,“ he began, but the words stuck in his throat speechlessly. It was all too much to process above the roaring sound of the train screeching, the screams and pleas growing louder around him.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she repeated. “You’re here just in time,” she assured him, bringing herself closer to him, studying his face with her fingertips, clutching desperately to love and the momentary hope found in his clarity.

He let it all go, every question and confusion, the regret, the desire to fight the unstoppable deluge of events that was happening all around him and within him.

Bending his face towards hers, he kissed her as the world around them fell silent. The runaway train found the edge of a curve it couldn’t master and nothing but open air beneath. As the shock stole the breath of the other passengers, they found safety in each other’s heartbeat. As the train plunged off the cliff, there was a momentary reprieve from a life that had been crashing around them long before they ever boarded, held in their tender embrace. And as so many souls cried out in lives cut short by tragedy, they were at peace in knowing he was there to keep promise: until death do us part.