Monster on the Train

Frankenstein’s Monster was a vegetarian. I did a google search to see if Mary Shelley was a vegetarian and what came up was that she “shared her HUSBAND’s diet of being a vegetarian”. I didn’t like the way they put that. I mean, he didn’t own the fucking diet. It could be that he was a vegetarian first and she changed her diet to accommodate her partner’s lifestyle. That’s a thing that happens, but you know damn well she was the one making sure that he ate every day.

Women have this incredible ability to multitask that could beat the hell out of any computer or AI in current or future existence. It’s crazy to think about when you, yourself can only focus on one thing at a time, and poorly at that. Being able to focus on yourself and what you’re doing, planning for the future while being in the present, and also knowing where your partner is with themselves, constantly thinking of them and making sure that they eat, requires superhuman level focus. That ability comes from deep self-awareness. I think that true self and universal awareness come from understanding the necessity of obligation. Something I still struggle with as an adult man, women are forced to begin to understand the moment they hit puberty.

I wish I would’ve put more consideration into making sure that she ate. My ex, that is, not Mary Shelley. She always made sure that I’d eaten because I can never remember to. She deserved the same care and courtesy. She didn’t even mind that I wasn’t vegetarian. She still made meals where she’d eat everything except the meat. One of us had to be healthy enough to take care of the other. I never meant to dump that on her, but I could’ve done a lot more to prove it. I don’t think I can smoke here.

It’s 8 am on a Tuesday in Glendale, CA. The 785, Pacific Surfliner to San Luis Obispo is 47 minutes late. A man In Fullerton jumped in front of the moving train, killing himself and several others who tried to pull him off of the tracks. Too much of a universal coincidence to occur while I sit and ponder the inherently selfish nature of men. Or rather, ponder my own inherently selfish nature, while feeling all of the guilt and regret that I can, until hating only myself isn’t enough. I now apparently hate Percy Bysshe Shelley and guys who mess with my schedule because they couldn’t think of a less inconvenient way to go out.

Admittedly, that was a dick thing to say, but it was also a dick move to involve undeserving people in his business. So, we’ll call it even. I mean, maybe not “even”, after all, I still have things to do that I don’t want to, while he’s left financially, physically, and emotionally debt free. Lucky bastard.

The reason things didn’t work out was because of jokes like that. It wasn’t that they were dark, she laughed at the dark stuff when it was funny. It was more the fact that the jokes held too many truths that shed a lot of light on the flaws in my character.

“785 Pacific Surfliner to San Luis Obispo will arrive in 15 minutes,” says the robotic woman over the station intercom. It’s crazy to think that multiple deaths on a train track are only a 62-minute delay in the schedule. Life goes on and it moves quickly. Not so quickly that I’ll get to where I’m going on time, but enough to make violent, tragic death seem like it’s just “business as usual”. Then again, I guess it is, haven’t you read the news? Tragedy befalls us every day and yet somehow, we manage to carry on worrying only about our fucking finances.

I’ve only ever taken the train twice before in California. It’s not nearly as common here for most people as it is in places like New York and Chicago. Anyway, I’m only going as far as Santa Barbara and it’ll be two hours and 33 minutes to get there. I can’t wait to impatiently tap my foot every time the train stops. I’m a very anxious person and I feel like punctuality is one of the very few reasons people still have to like and employ me.

I just realized that there’s nobody at this station, except for one person with a mop. I’m gonna ask her if I can smoke here because I don’t believe the “no smoking” signs. I believe that those signs are only in effect when there are people or children around.

The train pulls in before I get the chance to light up a cigarette and since I’m the only one here, they’re not waiting. I rush to the first car, the attendant waves me in. Business class is worth the extra fifteen dollars. Better seating, more room, fewer people, and free snacks. I didn’t have breakfast because I forgot. There’s no one in business class when I board. Solitude is the fairest compensation I could imagine, that would make up for how the day started.

“Looks like it’s just us today.”

The attendant crept up from behind me and found a way to ruin everything. I don’t mean to come off as rude, but I’ve got a lot on my mind and if I could afford it, I would have stayed in bed today to wallow in my depression. But being broke tends to force one to silently carry their depression everywhere they’re obligated to go.

“Looks like it.” I politely respond with a smile. He asks to see my boarding pass.

“How full up are the other cars?” Now I’m curious as I plan my exit strategy from potential small talk.

“They’re not. It’s the damnedest thing. Been working this line for 25 years and I’ve never seen an empty train that was in service.”

He legitimately looks shocked. What am I missing here? Anxiety starts to wash over me and I get the feeling I might be in danger. Sometimes when I walk into an empty place, I get paranoid that everyone knows something that I don’t. I don’t like feeling vulnerable to things and places that the rest of the world might’ve known to avoid.

“Maybe it has something to do with the accident on the tracks. Shit, you were probably there and saw everything. You doin’ alright?” A sudden burst of empathy hits and I realize this guy is probably having a more fucked up day than I am.

“Well, firstly I can say that it seemed too intentional to be considered an ‘accident’, but people tryin’ to help him wasn’t something I think he accounted for; which is by far, the most tragic part. But like I said, I’ve been doing this for 35 years. He’s not the first to jump in front of a train and he unfortunately won’t be the last. Thank you for asking though.” I can’t even imagine having that be the type of thing I could get used to. He also doesn’t look old enough to have been working at this for 35 years.

“Damn. Well, no one’s impervious to making mistakes, I guess.”

“Yeah, the best we can hope for is that the mistakes we make don’t hurt or affect others around us.” I know he was talking about the guy on the tracks, but it felt like an attack on my character. Where does he get off? Fuck this guy’s day, mine is still worse.

“We can only hope.” I crack half a smile and politely nod at the attendant.

“You’ve been broken up for three years, you knew that the sex was gonna stop eventually.” What the hell did he just say?

“What was that?” I don’t like this guy.

“I said, I’ll be back in a few minutes with your snacks, sir.” That’s not what he said. Is that what he said?

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” He smiles and walks out to the next car.

He’s wrong. I didn’t think the sex was gonna stop. But, it’s not even about the sex! I mean, the sex is great...was great; but she’s my best friend and the love of my life. I never thought the intimacy would stop. I know it’s been three years of “on and off” and “will they, won’t they”, but before that, it was 9 years of being together. I figured since we still loved each other so much, we’d eventually make it official again. I thought that’s what we were working toward. She thought that’s what we were working toward. She just felt that I was working toward something else, but I wasn’t. I got hit with a lot at once and I didn’t know how to handle it and it caused me to be my worst self...again. Fuck, I’m Dr. Frankenstein.

I read that book for the first time, just a few years ago. I was living in an apartment that she never wanted to move into. She bought me the book for my birthday, the month before. She was wrapping up her job while I was starting the new one, so I had to move in 2 months before she could even transfer. I ended up getting an ear infection that caused my blood to be septic and I nearly died. Forced her to move in a lot sooner than we’d planned.

I realize this seems like superfluous information, and it probably is. What I’m dancing around is how that story kind of mirrored my relationship. I felt that Mary Shelley connected most to the monster in her story. She was submissive to this career-oriented ego-maniac who created this resentful creature, who was assembled from rotten corpses that represented her previous selves. And she demanded a partner. Someone to love and share life with. All the while, threatening to take his life if he didn’t comply, which was a metaphor for leaving him. Being broken up with feels like murder to any ego-maniac. She never threatened to leave me, though sometimes I wish she had. The only problem I ever really had with her was that she wouldn’t tell me how she was feeling until it was already too late to fix it. Why is it dark outside? It’s not even 9 am.

“Alright sir, we’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which would you like first?”

The attendant messily shuffles into the car carrying boxes of pre-packaged food.

“Uhm...dealers choice” I respond.

I’ve always hated that question because I never want the bad news. Also, I hate having to make decisions.

“Well, the good news is that we have unlimited snacks today since there’s no one else on the train. So, help yourself as much as you’d like. The bad news is that you won’t be getting off of this train alive and this is a piss-poor excuse for a last meal.” Did he just say that?

“Yes, I just said that.” I might be losing my mind. I should’ve stayed home and slept more.

“You lost your mind quite some time ago, sir. I’m here to reclaim it.”

The man sits across from me, opens a box of snacks, and goes straight for the wheat crackers with brie cheese. I have no idea what to say or do. I’ve just been threatened in the weirdest way by a man I’ve never seen before, who looks eerily familiar and I’m wondering at what point I should take out all of my pent-up anger on his face. I don’t like being threatened, but I do like those rare instances in life when someone gives you a fully justified reason to kick the shit out of them. He has no idea who he’s fucking with.

“I’m not sure I follow,” I tell the man. To which he hollowly responds, “Oh, I think you follow just fine. I was gonna wait a little while, let you work out your thoughts and troubles in silence, but they were a lot louder than I’d anticipated. I’m not a very patient person. I’m sure you can relate. I also don’t like being disturbed and I don’t suffer fools well. Needless to say, you’ve checked off quite a few boxes in my list of peeves.”

My first instinct is to take out his knee cap so that he can’t stand up, giving me the opening to jump on top of him and pummel him into the seat. I’ll wait until he takes a bite of his cracker so he can fucking choke on it.

“Interesting strategy,” He says. “Let’s see how that works out for you.”

He looks me in the eyes and slowly brings the cracker to his face and shoves the entire thing into his stupid, grinning mouth. I launch my foot, full force into his right knee cap and I feel my knee cap hyperextend as I begin choking on something sharp. I can’t breathe! It’s lodged in my throat! My body won’t move!

I feel his arms wrap around my body from behind and he squeezes my diaphragm, repeatedly until the cracker flies out of my mouth and I cough. I feel like I tried to swallow a razor blade.

“I knew you were gonna fight me, but man, you really fucked yourself up there, buddy.” He says, shaking his head and laughing. My body is in shock, I crawl to get away. I just have to get far enough from him to get off at the next stop.

“There is no ‘next stop’. This train isn’t stopping until I’ve dealt with you. Stop trying to get away from me, it’s pathetic. You see, this is your problem, you don’t see what’s going on until after it’s already happened. So much pain you could’ve avoided if you would’ve just looked outside of yourself, just once! One time is all it would’ve taken for you to get it! To break the pattern! To stop being such a fuck up! We are so sick of you!” Just gotta get away from him. I gotta find something to defend myself with. “Oh my god, would you grab him please?”

A giant walks through the door from the other car. His hand fits around my entire neck. He squeezes and lifts me. All of the circulation and oxygen get cut off from my brain and I begin to panic. I flail around, trying to hit him but his reach is so long that I can’t get to his face. I somehow manage to extend my arm far enough to scratch his eye as I go blind in my left eye. The giant throws me into an empty seat. I can breathe again but I’m struggling.

“Jesus, look at you. What happened? You were doing so well for a while. I had high hopes, I did. Everyone else knew you’d fuck it up eventually, but I defended you. I thought you’d get it. I thought you’d fix it. We all did what we could to help you. You used to be our hero. Do you remember that dream you used to have when you were a kid, where you were sitting in the back of a car in a driveway, and it suddenly started driving itself? It would swerve into oncoming traffic, trying to kill you every chance it got. As terrifying as it was, you were always able to jump in the driver's seat and try to steer yourself to safety. Sure, sometimes the car would get banged up, sometimes you’d crash it. But you always got yourself to safety. We were all so proud of our hero. Why did you stop trying to get behind the wheel?”

The man’s eyes well up with tears. I’m in pain. “Good,” He says. The door from the other car opens and out come all of the resentful monsters I’ve created, assembled from the rotten corpses of my previous selves. They speak in unison to me, “We had our partner, our “someone” to love. All she wanted was for you to show up. All we wanted was for you to show up. We told you what would happen if you didn’t comply. We love you, but we can no longer trust you to keep us safe.” They begin to eat me. It hurts, but eventually, I become numb. I’m tired and I’m sick of being this person anyway. Maybe one of them will do a better job behind the wheel.