The other side of The Tracks

“Mom must be cleaning again,” I mumbled as my mind comes to before my eyes did.

The smell seems to never miss my nose, so often, now it has a sweet aroma.

“Hack hack ahem!”

The taste of something bitter reaches the back of my tongue and makes me cough, jolting me awake. I can only make out the silhouette of the booth in front of me, and the metallic glow from the floor that leads down an isle into even more darkness. “Did I fall asleep at the bar last night?” I reach out in front of me and feel nothing but the stiff air. I still smell the chemicals as they become like perfume to my sense. I feel out to my right, relieved and surprised to find a small cold window. “Im moving.” Thoughts and concerns run around my head playing tag like the fields screeching by behind the glass. Only seconds later, after the lights from an unknown source aluminates the cart, did I realize where i was.

“Dammit!”

I was here again.

Though disappointed, the pilot seats and overhead compartments seemed to calm my nervousness. I could still make out my initials etched above the seats across the isle. I was never a big fan of the 70’s vibe but this decor always set me at ease. I fiddle around on the old leather before reaching into my pockets. Nothing. I bend between my legs to search the quivering floor. Still nothing.

“Where the hell is it?” —standing, rummaging and slowly becoming frantic—“Its always right here in my pocket!”

I didn’t even notice a thin figure walking slowly down the isle. Until it was right behind me. Holding out it’s hand.

“Shi—“

“Is this what your looking for?” the figure said, interrupting me while oddly and faintly sounding like my mother?

I turned around to find the face of one of my parents.

“Your not supposed to be here! How are you here?” I exalted while clinging to both of her arms.

“Where is the bald guy who punches the tickets! Mom! Answer me!”

Though her skin had a ghostly feel, her piercing green eyes was always inevitable. She looks at me for a long while. The disappointment in her gaze redirected my eyes to her silhouette. When she finally did respond, it was without words. She sat me down on the worn leather, crumpled a piece of paper in my hand, touched my flushed face, and gave me a quivered kiss on my forehead. I looked from behind my tears to see my mothers face again, full of pain, but without them.

“You were always my biggest joy,” she whispered.

I looked away again to gain the strength to apologize. Not only have I been here before, but so has she. Why am I so selfish? Why do I keep putting Dad and her through this? I eventually muster up enough pride to look at my mothers face again. I brought my eyes back towards her direction only to realize I was again alone.

I sat for a minute. Logic and worry fighting in my mental for control. I don’t know what to do next, or what could I do even. Everyone hates me because of this. I hate me because of this. I need help. After pondering for what seemed like forever, I decided It’s time to end this ride now and never come back. Anger quickly took me by surprise and I was to my feet again. Angry at myself, angry at my parents, angry at my friends. Why would they let me come here again? Why didn’t they stop me? I struck myself in the head. I did it over and over again until my fists were sore. A piece of paper fell to the floor as I calmed down and unclenched my fist. I realized it was the paper that mom gave to me. I dropped down to grab it, stopping halfway up to read what it said. I dropped back down again, but this time completely defeated. I rested on the back of my knees while my legs laid lifelessly beside me. Tears again quickly rushed to my tear ducts and I started to cry. Only then I knew, this would be my last ride.