The Journey
By psy
- 342 reads
The Journey
The light outside was fading, his own reflection in the train window
was becoming clearer. The man that looked back at him was barely
recognisable as a forty year old, he looked considerably older than his
years. The drawn look and deep set eyes made more ominous by the deep
dark crescents showing a man under enormous strain. The man realised
that his awareness had drifted from his own reflection to monitor the
carriage.
The carriage was now nearly empty. It hadn't been like this all day.
Earlier the carriage had been stuffed full of humanity, looking
forward, full of anticipation of the holiday ahead. The journey for
many that day was a happy one, carriages full of travellers going back
to loved ones. Students returning from independent lives at
universities going home with their washing and tales of really hard
times, telling each other that they couldn't stand the idea of a
traditional family Christmas whilst secretly enjoying the opportunity
of a fuss being made of them. Grandparents being reunited with their
long flown offspring, ready to battle over ideals and morals. The past
memories of arguments long ago, ready to be resurrected at a moments
notice, to sting those who seem to have ignored them all year and no
doubt feel obliged to have them for Christmas. Children running and
jumping over every available space; exploring each stranger's face,
awaiting a smile; crawling under every table to ensure that no nook or
cranny contained hidden treasures waiting to be discovered by their
eager eyes. Parents gentle recall of the avid explorers hiding just a
hint of frustration at the embarrassment they felt at having to
constantly apologise for the eagerness shown by their offspring.
The man's awareness returned to the view outside the train. The snow
on the ground outside covered everything, the reflection of the light
giving the impression of an even covering of smooth icing. Every
natural angle well rounded. Nothing showed any signs of being more than
just a few minutes old. Even around the cities and towns the few inches
of snow ensured that man's attempts to build and design were hidden and
forgiven for a short spell. The snow even made the derelict areas those
scars of civilisation around the edge of the cities, look artistic,
simplistic and beautiful. The countryside sparkled at the fresh start
that the covering had brought. Even the simple tracks of a tractor's
wheels, pulled the man's imagination into a distant mysterious
wonderland just over the hills into which they disappeared. Pylons,
static sentries in line disappearing into the distant grey sky seemed
to be ready at a moment's notice to drop their lines, shake off their
camouflage cloaks and march in unison to defend their territory.
As the man thought back over the day on the train, he was aware of how
the journey seemed to have mirrored his life. . Time sped past so
quickly when the train had been full, constantly changing scenarios
being acted out by people in the carriage, all happy and looking
forward to the future. As the day wore on more people getting off
leaving to continue their own journeys' Wishing those left behind best
wishes for the season. With the sense of space growing, everybody
seemed to turn inward to their in their own private worlds, deep in
thought. The eager children resigning themselves to the sheer boredom
of the journey resorted to finger playing and reading. Time strode
through the carriages at a more sedate pace.
The sky had changed from nothingness grey to crimson to welcome the
onset of the cold dark cloak of night. Now only the empty coffee cups,
beer cans and the stained tabletop surrounded by half read newspapers
give credence to the happy party that had taken place earlier. Time
dragged its laborious bulk around the carriage and every passer-by
seemed to arouse interest in the now almost empty carriage. Those
passing through the carriage didn't look at the seated passengers, only
ahead trying to maintain their footing and dignity on the fast moving
rocking train. When they did glance it was to condemn the mess that
surrounded every seat and their eyes flicked at mess surrounding the
remaining passengers with an almost indignant look.
In the seat opposite sat a young student, head in a book leaning back
on her rucksack oblivious to the world passing her by. She hadn't got
on till later in the day and was forced to sit opposite him because
every seat was taken. She had given him a wide happy smile then she had
looked at all the cans on the table. Her smile became weaker, still she
sat down, opened a book and buried her head in it. Even when the train
emptied she was so engrossed in her book she didn't even realise she
could move or she didn't have the courage. He could have told her that
the cans didn't belong to him and he didn't drink but why bother, let
her think what she wanted to.
The man had spent the day trying to look forward to seeing his wife
again. It would be such a bittersweet experience. It always was. The
tense smile always gave way to the warm embrace and sweet caress of her
lips slightly roughed from lack of use, followed by the recriminating
silence of past sadnesses. The man stared back through his reflection
into the depth of nothingness beyond. The rocking of the train and the
constant doubletap of the wheels over the break in the tracks made him
close his heavy eyes to protect himself from the reflection of that
haunting face. The gentle familiar movement sent his memories into the
evening wishing for a different time and place.
It had been a complete shock. One day he was telling Ben that he would
soon be home and checking that his son was completing his homework and
recriminating him about his lack of effort, the next day standing by
Ben's bedside surrounded by tubes, hi-tech machines in a cold stark
blue hygienic hospital ward. The doctors said it could have been
anybody, they couldn't have known. A rare genetic disease had turned a
lively little nine year old busybody into the still mannequin at the
centrepiece of a horrific nativity.
The grandparents had joined him and his wife sitting by the bed. His
father in Law sitting with his eyes transfixed on some distant point
hardly moving, just sitting wishing that the drama unfolding around him
could be mentally resolved. When his wife's mother was not looking
helplessly at the little boy, she would turn to look at him, silently
growling at him, blaming him for never being around, always working. He
knew what she was thinking, If he had been at home this would not have
happened. He had almost convinced himself of that. He wanted to scream
at his mother in law "its genetic, its nobody's fault"! He instead just
looked through her and returned his attention to Ben. He did hurt not
from being away, but for every lost moment, every "go away daddy's
busy!" Stung at him and twisted his already sick stomach. What a time
for Ben to be ill, when the world seemed to be celebrating. The man
hated Christmas even before Ben's sudden illness. The man looked at his
wife, gently holding Ben's fragile hand, her face pale and hair lank.
Only last night on the phone, they had been arguing about the bloody
stupidity of spending all this time and money on a pointless
celebration. The man was happy to indulge Ben, Ben was their son. But
the crowds and endless parties just seemed to go on forever. All work
seemed to stop in October whilst everybody discussed the holiday still
to come and every bad Christmas gone by. Maybe next Christmas Ben would
be laughing at the now horiffic scene that beheld the family.
The doctors had spoken to both him and his wife several times over the
last few hours, each time the options were outlined. None of them
hopeful, Ben could remain in this state till he died or there is a slim
chance he may improve slowly, only time could answer that
question.
Time's answer came with unnerving speed and surety on Christmas
morning, No warning, no chance to prepare. All the machines seemed to
come to life at once. The alarms and beeps signalled the arrival of a
host of nurses, calming words being given to the family by the self
assured medical team whilst being ushered out of the room. Through the
glass the man could see the frantic effort that was shown on the face
of every nurse and doctor. They seemed to be moving in slow motion, a
macabre play acted out without dialogue, yet every word transmitted
through action and reaction to the song of technology being played by
the machines that kept Ben alive.
Then silence broke through the glass. It was deafening and the medical
team stopped, they looked at each other then turned to the window. Pain
coursed through the man's chest and a rushing wind roared into his
head. He hardly heard his wife's scream.
The train must have jerked violently to a stop the man felt himself
propelled forward, he opened his eyes and found himself lying face down
on the table. The pain in his chest showed that he must have impacted
the table. The shock awakening must have been the final straw for the
young girl opposite. She had taken fright at the sudden dive forward
and had quickly jumped out of her seat. The man couldn't see where
she'd got to, but her things had not moved. He knew she would be back
and then he could apologise for startling her. Slumping back into his
seat he turned to window to watch the train enter the bright lights
ahead.. Even the reflection that faced him seemed less drawn.
As the train pulled into the station, The man thought he could see a
figure, small yet familiar. Then he knew there on the platform stood
Ben. The man's eyes and heart both seem to well up and fill with pure
elation. The man focused on his son's eyes, nothing else seemed to
exist. "Thank god it was just a nightmare" he breathed. Without getting
his bag he leapt out of his seat and rushed off the train and hugged
his son. The whole world seemed to revolve around inside those young
eyes, yet they were overflowing with wisdom. "Where's your mother
Ben"?
"She's not here yet daddy" came the chirpy reply.
The man wasn't alarmed, he felt himself comforted and strengthened by
the presence of his son. "Come on dad I want to show you what I've got
you for Christmas"
"Son I have everything I need now" he replied as the tears flowed
freely from his eyes.
.......................................................
The train guard quietly shut his front door behind him and crept
upstairs. He opened his daughter's bedroom door and walked in. She was
asleep, feet across the bed and feet sticking out as usual. He shifted
her round and covered her up. Tucking the quilt around her small waif
like shoulders he kissed her gently on the cheek and went quietly into
his own bedroom. As he sat softly on the edge of the bed His wife
muttered "She wants you to be there when she opens her presents and I
had to promise her that you would wake her up before you go to work
tomorrow."
"I thought she was the one who would be awake tonight not you" Thomas
gently teased his wife. " Anyway, I am not going to work tomorrow it's
Christmas day off for me from now on."
"You've not been sacked have you? You have always had to work Christmas
day! What's wrong?"
His wife's barrage of questions unsettled him. "Ssssh! You'll wake
Trudy. I haven't been sacked and there's nothing wrong. Now go to
sleep.
He climbed in bed and his wife pulled herself across to mould herself
to his form and cover him with warmth.
"I'm so glad" she whispered. Her eyes sparkled in the reflected lights
from the street outside.
"So am I" came his mumbled reply.
He closed his eyes and wondered when to tell his family about the
night's events.
He began to see all the details. Typical journey, boring, all
passengers had got tickets no scruffle for seats a really easy day,
until just before the train had stopped. The raving of that young girl
had altered him to trouble. She had shouted at him to come and deal
with this drunk. The drunk had jumped forward for no reason and twisted
his face at the girl. She'd had wanted the guard to come back with her
so she could collect her things. He'd walked slowly towards the
carriage hoping that the man would have already moved from his seat and
be waiting to get off the train as it pulled into the station. But he'd
prepared himself for any trouble and put on an air of authority. When
he got to the seat the man was sleeping, slumped in his seat with tears
rolling down his cheeks. The young girl strengthened by the guard's
presence grabbed her things, and juggled her way to the next carriage.
The guard mustered up his courage and shook the man. Something was
wrong, the guard leaned closer to the man, No alcohol-tainted breath
stung his nostrils. He slowly realised that the man wasn't drunk, he
was dying. The cloak of authority fell away exposing his own fear and
panic. He'd pushed the emergency button on his mobile phone and
screamed for a doctor. Everything happened at once and the doctor and
police appeared in almost an instant.
"Massive heart attack" sighed the doctor, "no chance of surviving that,
"The policeman had gone through the man's pockets and in his wallet
found an address and a photo of a boy and woman. The guard didn't need
to see the photo of the woman to know that the lady on the platform he
could see through the window walking towards the carriage and pushing
her way through the small crowd was the man's wife. She'd identified
herself with concern and anguish written on her pale desperate
face.
The policeman hadn't been prepared for her violent reaction and urgent
attempts to reach her dead husband. And her grief swept through the
carriage. It had taken both the doctor and policeman to hold her back.
Her screams subsiding into frantic sobbing and final collapse.
In the station manager's office the guard had finished telling his boss
about the man, and was finishing off a mug of tea. The normally hectic
office was quiet as if the whole world knew the office was filled with
grief. Thomas wanted some noise. His silent request was fulfilled when
a knock came to the door. The policeman put his head around the door.
"That man's wife is now in hospital under sedation. She had lost her
son on Christmas day last year! And now her husband tonight". The guard
put down his coffee cup, turned to his boss. "I won't be in tomorrow, I
need a few days off"
"Of course Thomas " his boss replied, "I understand, Merr... never mind
have a good New Year".
............................................
Thomas opened his eyes to look at his wife's hair on the pillow
Yes he would tell his wife about the man's death after breakfast in the
morning.
He put his arm around her and tried to push the day out of his
mind.
"Merry Christmas" she murmured.
"Hmm" he replied.........
Lee Beresford (c) Jan 1999
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