The Journey
written by: R. S. Nelson
@nelson_rom46615
Cora waited to board the six am train on Christmas day. She wanted to bury herself in her work, hoping to avoid the holiday altogether, but no matter where she looked, everywhere around her was festively decorated. Green Christmas wreaths with red bows adorned the station, and carols played from the megaphones.
Cora barely noticed it though, her brown eyes glued on the train ahead, wondering why the line wasn’t moving faster. She fixed her jacket, and her left foot heel clacked on the pavement until the person behind her cleared his throat. She then held her purse tighter and tapped her fingernails on it.
When her Fitbit read 6:02 Cora looked around for an attendant to scold. Before she did, a small yellow and brown bird flew past her, making Cora duck. The bird rested on the light pole beside her. Cora stared at the bird, something about it nagging her, like a memory that didn’t quite resurface. The person behind her cleared his throat again, and Cora realized the line had moved.
Once inside the train, she found the closest row to the door and took the aisle seat. She looked around, wondering where all the other passengers were, but at the same time, glad to be the only person in the cabin. People made her uncomfortable. In her opinion, chit-chat belonged to people with a lot to say or people willing to listen, and she was neither. Instead, she opened her phone and heard a tweet. At first, she thought it was her X account until a tap on the window made her look outside.
There was a yellow and brown bird flying in front of her.
She worried the bird would crash against the glass, but it just hung in the air, batting its wings. Then it winked at her and flew away, leaving Cora so baffled that she barely registered the train’s jerky movements, the wheels slowly gaining traction on the iron roads.
A man’s voice startled her. “Is this seat taken?”
Before she replied, Cora looked at the man. His stiff clothes and old-fashioned hat made him look older, although Cora guessed he was in his forties. His face looked familiar to her—as if they had already met—although that was impossible. What caught Cora’s attention the most was his mustache. It was just a regular mustache. It wasn’t unique like Salvador Dali’s or sexy like Burt Reynolds’ but more like Ned Flanders’. As a child, Cora loved that character in The Simpsons. She longed to reach for it like a kid wanting to grab a toy. Alarmed by her thoughts, she mumbled “No,” and hastily moved to the window.
Only after the man sat down did Cora remember all the empty seats, realizing she was alone with the stranger. She was trapped, and her heart filled with fear. She thought about getting up and leaving, but what if he tried to stop her? Maybe she could scream, but would anyone hear her if she did?
While she thought of a solution, Cora realized that the landscape was becoming blurrier as the train gained speed. Cora’s eyes tried to focus on the scenery, but by doing so her head started spinning. For a moment she thought she was dying.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Cora fibbed.
“No, you’re not,” he said, grabbing her hand.
Cora pulled her head back. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m just trying to help.”
Reluctantly, Cora stretched her hand. The man grabbed it and placed a small package on it. “Please, eat it.”
Cora moved the bundle closer to her face and got a sniff of something delicious. Chocolate.
“Please, eat it.”
Cora opened the wrapper and ate the treat. Soon, her vision returned to normal. But munching at the bar also brought childhood memories, as if every nibble contained a piece of her life. She saw herself splashing in the lake with her sister, climbing up trees and chasing birds together, and then braiding her sister’s blonde hair. She remembered how much she missed her.
The man’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Are you feeling better?”
Cora noticed the concern in his eyes. She looked away, feeling the heat on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry that I—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Did you like the chocolate?”
“Yes.” She looked at the yellow and brown bar, her eyes opening wide.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes…It’s just that I haven’t had one of these in so long.” She examined the treat. “I loved them as a kid.”
He smiled. “Maybe you should take more.”
Cora took another bite. This time, she saw herself running toward her uncle John’s house, her tears running, her sister no longer with her. She remembered sitting next to him, watching him play the harmonica. When he finished, he’d moved his mustache up and down, making Cora laugh.
This memory made her study the man closer. When was the last time she thought about her uncle or sister? The two people who had truly loved her, neither of whom belonged to this world anymore. She wondered where they were, and if they could see her. She looked away, a knot forming in her throat.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” she replied, irritated by the man’s questions. But his eyes, dark as the ocean at night, were kind and understanding. Cora saw herself reflected in them. She saw her life passing in front of her eyes, all the long work hours, the lonely nights, the emptiness of her big apartment, and wondered if she had lived fully. Most people go through life looking for something to fill their days, to bring them meaning, but not Cora. She never cared that she didn’t find a partner, or that her job didn’t change the world. But now she found herself questioning if she was happy, truly happy, and what she would need to do to find joy again.
“May I?” she asked, moving a trembling hand closer to the man’s face, expecting him to jolt back.
Instead, he laughed. “Go ahead.”
Cora reached out, but when she was about to touch the mustache, he moved it up and down, making her laugh. For a blissful moment, she felt at home.
The conductor’s voice, announcing the next stop, brought her back.
“This is my stop,” said the man.
Cora looked at him, wishing her eyes said everything she couldn’t.
The man stood up, bowed to her, and slowly walked down the corridor. Cora remained seated, and looked out the window, at the snow covering the landscape with a soft, white blanket. She then heard a tweet and saw a yellow and brown bird standing on a light pole. The bird winked at her.
Cora’s heart pounded. “Wait!” she yelled, running after the stranger. She caught him by the door, one foot on the other side.
He smiled, and Cora lost her words.
The yellow and brown bird flew behind the stranger, landing on a small girl’s shoulders. Cora looked at the bird, then at the girl’s old-fashioned clothes, and her long blonde hair tied in a braid. A smile slowly surfaced.
“I think this is my station, too.”
- The Journey - December 25, 2024
