CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Charlie
“Thank you,sir. Your seat is right over here,” says the gentleman whom I assume to be the conductor. He is kind enough to help me with my bag, placing it in the overhead compartment above myseat.
I ease into the blue cushion next to a young man who appears to be traveling alone. He is wearing an expensive-looking pair of headphones, has a phone is resting on his lap, and he looks slightly bored. I’m sure he’s oblivious to the fact that he’s experiencing luxury at its finest compared to what I knew when I was young. I doubt he’d even be able to comprehend what a train ride during World War II would have been like for the prisoners of thatwar.
“I love the train,” I tell the boy, guessing he probably can’t hear me anyway. His gaze floats to the left, studying me for a moment. I’m quite surprised when he twists his head to take a longer look at me, though I’m not surprised with the expression on his face—one that tells me I’ve annoyed him before he quickly looks down at his phone. I suppose I’m not that interesting to look at, but I don’t give up thateasily.
“You know, I used to ride the train because it was the best place to people watch,” I say, seeing the boy shift his weight around with discomfort. He seems a little more irritated now. “I was people watching so I could find a particular woman. I figured if I rode the train enough times, I would eventually see her. Did you know that seven hundred and fifty-thousand people travel through Grand Central Station each day? Can you imaginethat?”
Rather than respond, the boy hits the volume button on his phone, probably increasing the loudness of his music, then turns his head toward thewindow.
“The ironic part about my train rides was that I ended up seeing the woman I was looking for at the small airport in Rhode Island—in the smallest state of this country. What are thoseodds?”
When I get no response, I decide to leave the poor lad alone for a few minutes. I realize I’m likely making him uncomfortable, but what he doesn’t realize, is that by the end of the ride, he’ll be asking me for morestories.
Amelia. Her name still brings a smile to my face, but also a deep feeling of longing, even though it’s just thoughts running silently through my mind. I’ve felt an overwhelming sense of sadness ever since I heard from her granddaughter yesterday. Amelia is ninety-two years old, and although it’s an accomplishment to reach such an age, it’s hard to bear the thought of her leaving this earth without her lips touching mine one more time. I’m almost embarrassed to be having these thoughts, but it’s beyond my control. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of her. Not a night has gone by that I haven’t dreamed about her. I know I did the right thing by not interfering with her life, but my heart aches to think that we will never have the chance to spend our lives together. The years flew by, but the reality of never being able to gaze into her eyes or touch her sweet face again has almost been too much to bear over the years. I never reached out to her because I didn’t want to be selfish. However, now I don’t have to feel bad because I was asked tocome.
“When I saw Amelia, the woman I’m talking about, in the airport that day, she had her arms full—two little girls, one with dark brown curls and the other with long blonde hair. They were both talking to her at the same moment, begging her to buy a bag of candy in the store they were sitting across from. I sat in the distance within the gate’s waiting area, just watching her. Once she gave in to her daughters, she leaned back into her seat, pulled in a deep breath and smiled. I saw happiness on her beautifulface.”
The boy looks over at me and removes his headphones from his ears. “You like to talk, huh?” he asks. His voice must have just started changing because it sounded very deep for the age he looked. I wondered why he was traveling alone. Was he was visiting family, or maybe runningaway?
“When I stop talking, I start to think, and that’s never a good thing. Talking cleanses thesoul.”
“That makes sense,” he says, which surprisesme.
“So, do you want to know if I went up and talked to her?” I askhim.
The boy shrugs. “Sure, I guess.” He’s acting like he doesn’t care, but I think he’s curious where this story isgoing.
“I didn’t approach her right away. After spending such a long time searching for her, I needed to consider what to do. Within a few minutes of watching her, a well-dressed man, who I assumed to be her husband, sat down beside her.” The man appeared charming, and she smiled happily as they conversed. “I remember watching as he told her something that made her laugh, and then they each went about reading their respective magazines. She elbowed him once to show him a picture in the one she was reading, and he chuckled in return.” She was happy. It was apparent. “Then, when their daughters came back from the store, they both hugged them and gave each girl a kiss on her cheek before the darlings sat down on the ground to eat their candy.” The family looked like a picture of perfection. I envied her husband since he had everything I always wanted. “Anyway, after all the time I had spent looking for her, I felt a sense of relief to know she was happy and well. It was the closure I thought I needed before moving on with my life. I figured I wouldn’t have to wonderanymore.”
“You didn’t even say hi?” the boyasks.
“No, I did not, and do you knowwhy?”
He shakes his head with confusion. “Why?”
“If I had walked up to her, every memory she had, both bad and good, would have come rushing back, and I didn’t want that for her. She had been through some terrible things, and it appeared she was living a good life. While I had always dreamed of being a part of it, I was satisfied enough, knowing her dream had cometrue.”
“I would have gone over to her,” the boy says. “What if she was only somewhat happy, youknow?”
“Somewhat happy?” I askhim.
“Yeah, like my mom acted for most of my life until lastyear.”
Divorce. The poor kid. I’m sure that must be hard for him. “Divorce?” I ask to confirm myassumption.
“Yeah, I told my mom that if she wanted to be happy, she needed to leave my dad and get her own life.” I’m stunned by his words. He is so mature and rational for such a youngman.
“You’re a smart kid; you knowthat?”
“I just know I would not want to grow up to be a miserable person,” he says. “That’s why I would have gone after thewoman.”
“I haven’t been miserable,” I correcthim.
“You let some other guy be with your woman? I don’t think that would make me very happy,” hesays.
