She jiggled her knees and hugged her cup of coffee. The weather felt like it was seeping through her skin and into her bones. She was cold from the inside out. This is ridiculous she thought. Where the hell is the train? For the life of me, I will never get used to this ridiculous cold. She sighed and hugged her coffee tighter. She could see her own breath disappearing in front of her.
People were gathering around, all staring hopefully down the track – of course the train was late. They’re always late. This was Britain after all. She pulled her sunglasses over her eyes and snuggled down into the steel chair. She didn’t care that the sun wasn’t shining – wearing her sunglasses always seemed to put a barrier between her and the rest of the universe. A way for her to not actually have to interact with those around her, not that she would know anyone here anyway.
The anonymity of this country was what she liked about it. Her brief brush with notoriety in her teens had taught her quickly that privacy and obscurity were the most valuable things she could own. Her false start of a career as an adult had placed her happily up stage right of the spotlight and in recent years, solitude had become her happy companion. Yes, at times the loneliness was palpable but the feeling was now so familiar she regarded more as a welcome friend. One that, in recent times, had sat beside her while she slowly stitched things back together.
She leafed through a magazine. She liked to read when she travelled; it immersed her even further into her own world – distorting the other people who were packed like sardines around her. I-pod, sunglasses, hat, scarf and magazine – nothing could make her happier on this Sunday afternoon.
“Can I sit here?” a voice said.
“God damn it” she thought. She had put her bags purposefully on the chair beside her in an effort to dissuade people from sitting there. Living in such an overcrowded city had made her far more protective of her personal space. She looked up, absent mindedly to answer. The face that met her took a moment to register.
“Hi” she said, pulling her sunglasses off.
“Oh god… hi” he answered. “I didn’t realise it was you.”
“Yep” she stammered, “It’s me.”
They stared at each other.
This was the moment they had both been dreading. Neither of them had thought it would happen in a train station.
“Well… can I sit?” he asked
“Um… yeah. Sure. If you want to.”
“Of course I want to, don’t be an idiot.”
Oh god this was awful. She had played out this particular moment in her head thousands and thousands of times. She’d prepared all the carefree remarks, the witty asides and the long, touching monologues. She knew exactly what she wanted to say – here was the moment… and all she wanted to do was vomit.
“So how are things?” he asked.
“Good… good. They’re good.”
Don’t tell him anything she thought. If he really wanted to know about your life he would have called to ask months ago.
“Well… you look good” he tried again.
“Thanks.” She said. “I know.”
She knew she shouldn’t have added it but she didn’t care. The two of them had already done so much damage to this relationship one more aside wouldn’t make a difference.
“I heard you finally made it out to LA… Did you love it?”
She smiled quietly to herself.
“You know I did. It was never really going to be a question as it?”
“I’m surprised you came back”
“Well I did try to marry the border protection guy at the airport so I could stay a little longer. Unfortunately he didn’t see the humour in the situation.”
He laughed.
Oh god please don’t laugh. Don’t get into this familiar banter. Don’t allow him to be charming. Don’t ask him questions you don’t want to know.
“I heard you’re seeing someone.”
You said it! You know you don’t want to know, why the hell are you asking?
“Um… yeah… I am.”
The words floated through her ears and into her stomach. Again. She wanted to vomit.
“Her name is Caroline… she’s and actress… she’s – “
“Aaaah no offence” she cut him off. “I – I don’t want to know anything more than that.”
She could feel him looking at her, but couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.
“Fair enough” he conceded.
She nodded, smiling. Why the hell was she nodding? Why the hell was she smiling? She didn’t know. Anything to avoid looking at him.
“Well… what about you?” he continued. “Weren’t you dating that ah.. dentist guy?”
She closed her eyes, willing this moment to be over.
“Ah… yes I was… but now… I’m not. It… it didn’t work out.”
“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”
Not only did she want to vomit, but she could feel the tears welling up. Hurling in public would be one thing, but crying would certainly be another.
“Yeah… I bet you are.”
She couldn’t help herself. This kind of sarcasm had always been her coat of armour when it came to him.
He knew this.
“I mean it kid… you deserve to be happy.”
The words stung.
This was too much. She bent down to get her bags, dropping her coffee on the way.
“I’m sorry… I can’t do this.”
She knew it was just the kind of melodrama he hated. But it was killing her. She really wanted this to be normal, for them to be fine. To go on as friends – as those great buddies who “used to date but now get along great and can laugh about it.” But for now… in this particular moment… in this rediculous train station… she just couldn’t do it.
He was like a ghost. The ghost of relationship past that she just couldn’t escape. She was haunted by him and this safe conversation was simply too much. She hated this. She hated that she had become “that girl” but here she was and that’s how she felt and she simply had to go.
“Baby, don’t do this... come on…” he said
She snapped back.
“I’m not you’re fucking baby. You made that quite clear months ago.”
She regretted it as soon as she said it. She couldn’t move. She stared at the ground.
“Come on” he said. “You can at least look at me.”
She lifted her gaze and looked him in the eye.
And there… in the freezing train station… there was a crack in the planet.
“Say it. Just say it. Have the fucking courage to say that you are sorry. Stop ignoring the fact we systematically tried to destroy each other. Stop skirting around the conversations we should have had. The ones where you explain your behaviour. Where you tell me where you went and why. Tell me the truth. I can handle it. Did you just fall out of love as easily as we fell in? Did you get scared? Are you a liar? Did I push you away? Was it all a setup? A joke? A game? I’ll apologise. Fuck I already have. Many times. I’ve said I am sorry, I’ve explained my behaviour; I’ve told you everything you needed to know. Please. Your silence is impossible; your behaviour makes you a liar and for the life of me I cant work out what the hell happened. It all seems so warped now. So surreal and far away that I wonder if it ever actually happened. Did I hallucinate the entire thing? Did I script the conversations in my head? Did I make it all up? Or were you just lying? If you were, why would you do that? Why couldn’t you just talk to me? Why did you leave me to shoot the dying horse and then feel the following waves of guilt? And then why did you revive it again and again and again? Why does it still echo within me every day? Why is it… that when all the dust settles I still desperately want to make you proud? And why is your fingerprint everywhere I look? I’m terribly sorry but I can’t shoot the shit about your girlfriend while there is still so much left unsaid. And why… why can I not hate you? God knows it’s not for lack of trying.”
She sighed. These were the things she should have said.
Instead she smiled at him. The train was coming.
“I have to go. I’ll see you around… take care. I mean it. Be happy.”
And with that. She got on the train.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t vomit. She just looked out the window.
And locked her heart away… in the box with all the things she should have said.
