The Next Train

Short story about choice

The next train to the airport leaves in twenty minutes.

Marcus will be here to pick me up in fifteen.

I shrug my traveling backpack off my aching shoulders and onto the dirty train station bench. My two suitcases threaten to roll away from me as I sit down to wait but I keep them from rolling onto the tracks in front of me with my ankle at their wheels. I sigh and read the pixelated sign again, just twenty minutes until a train to the airport leaves here.

Behind me, a train from Boise pulls in. I turn to watch a hoard of passengers spill out of the doors. Their steps drown out the grainy announcement on the overhead speaker. I’m almost captivated; they’re all so sure of their next moves. They know if they need to leave the station or if they need to sit and wait for their next train. They know if they need to go to the ticket booth or check the map. I want to be sure like that.

One of the slower walking people that got off the Boise train makes his way over to sit at my bench. He’s got a bop in his step, and he mouths along to whatever his headphones play him. He shoves his hands in his worn, purple, and orange letterman jacket once he sits down. His fluffy afro bounces as he shakes it out and continues to dance to his music, staring at the train to the airport in front of us. I bet he’d get on the train. He looks worldly enough for an impromptu trip.

“Excuse me,” I tap the quietly-dancing man on the shoulder. He turns to face me, pausing his music slightly too slow to hear me say, “I like your headphones, and I have a question for you.”

“I’m sorry?” He raises a bushy eyebrow and pushes his headphones off his head.

“I said I like your headphones,” I gesture to them. They were gray, though probably not originally, and scratched. A lot of the scratches are covered by conflicting stickers. Some are glittered stickers you’d find on a little girl's notebook. Others are quick drawings on ripped lined paper held down by scotch tape. His headphones have character, probably just like him. Maybe he could break my internal tie because the next train to the airport leaves in fifteen minutes. Marcus will be here in ten.

“I got that part, thank you,” he gives me a thumbs up, his nails painted orange. “You said something else?”

“I have a question for you,” I repeat.

“Shoot,” the man said, he bounces his leg quickly and gives me his attention.

“You see that train right there?” I point. A few people walk through the doors. I assume taking their seats, hopefully faster than I did. I had taken a 6 hour train ride all the way here. It was an uncomfortable and bumpy ride, but that was my fault. I took too long to decide where I wanted to sit when I first got on the train, so all the seats were taken. The seat near the door would have made it easy for me to quickly get out of the train. But then the seats toward the back offered more privacy at the sake of it taking longer for me to off-board. The seat never mattered, though. And, honestly, it’s not the fact that I had to stand for most of the ride that bothers me. It’s the fact I couldn’t make a choice.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“It says it’s going to the airport.”

“Yep, that’s what the sign says,” the man confirms.

“Right right,” I tap my knees, “ So if you could get on that train, ride to the airport, and get on a flight to anywhere – this is the first part of my question – would you get on the train?” He takes a moment to think. His lips purse, and his eyes draw upward in thought. Marcus makes the same face when he’s deep in thought about where we should spend our date nights at. We always ended up at his house though. Sitting on the same couch we’d been on since high school. The same couch I know I’ll end up on once Marcus picks me up to start my summer break from College.

“Two-part question,” the man says slowly, “I feel like I’m taking a test,” he chuckles.

“Don’t worry I’m not grading you.”

“So you want to know if I would get on that train right there?” he points to the train.

“Yep that train right there,” I point to the train, “going to the airport. Wait, if you don’t mind – this is another question – where are you headed to now?”

“Triple question,” he says. “Tell me where you’re goin’ first.”

“I’m going home,” I tell him.

“What would you leave behind if you got on that train to the airport?” Now it was my chance to put on my thinking face. I would be leaving behind the comfort of home. I would be leaving Marcus. Him and his well-taken-care-of honda. I know he’ll have the heat on for me and will welcome me back home with one of his warm smiles and hugs. I’d be leaving my mom and her loud laugh that fills up my childhood home. And my dad with his constant rambling that always relaxes me. I would be leaving the familiar.

“Everything,” I say.

“Everything is a lot,” he says.

“You look like you’d get on the train,” I tell him. His eyebrows shoot up, and he takes in what I said.

“I do?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I nod.

“Why’s that?” he questions.

“You’ve got the beat-up shoes, artsy headphones, and a wisdom lock. You look like you’re up for an adventure,” I gesture to the parts of him as I mention them.

“Hm. I didn’t know I – or my image was telling a story like that,” he laughs and reaches back to touch his wisdom loc.

“It’s just my interpretation. I am running out of time, though, if you don’t mind answering.”

The next train to the airport leaves in ten minutes. Marcus will be here in five, maybe four since he’s always early.

“Right right. I need to answer part one of this three part question. Wait, you told me part one and part three but not part two,” he counts the parts on his thick fingers.

“We’ll get there,” I hold my hand up. “You gotta answer part one first.”

The man doesn’t take long to come up with his answer. Quicker than I would have ever been able to.

“Yep,” he says. “I would get on the train. When is a vacation not fun?” he shrugs.

“Part two is where would you fly to,” I hold up two fingers.

“Probably Greece. I heard they get down over there,” he smiles to himself.

“Why don’t you get on the train then?”

“Because of part three of your question,” he holds up three fingers to me. “I’m heading back home. My dad hooked me up with the job, and I gotta make it in time for my first day.”

“So you don’t want the adventure?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m most definitely gonna have my adventure,” he says confidently. “It’s just not my time right now. Doesn’t mean it’s not yours though. You said you’d leave everything, but everything will be waiting for you when you get back.” He starts to put his headphones back on and I know that’s my sign to leave the nice stranger alone.

“I hope your job goes well,” I say as I stand, gathering my luggage.

“It will work out however it’s meant to.” And with that, the man puts his headphones back on and resumes his dancing.

I’m kind of buzzing. Buzzing at what I could do right now. What I think I will do. Because the man is right. They would all be waiting for me when I get back, from wherever I end up. Maybe not Marcus. I don’t know how he’d take me leaving without telling him. But I won’t have to tell him. I don’t think I’d be able to tell him I wanted to go without him.

I walk to the ticket booth a little ways down the platform. The woman behind the counter is too busy going through files behind her to get right to me. I lean my elbows on the counter and take a deep breath. It’s okay. It’s all okay. It’s time for an adventure and why shouldn’t I take it? I’ve worked hard this semester. I’ve earned it. It’s my time to go on an adventure . . . alone.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, hun,” the ticket booth woman says, going back to her files. I’m going to buy–

I don’t have a minute anymore. My breath catches as my phone buzzes in my pocket.

The next train to the airport leaves in five minutes.

Marcus is here now.