Train Thoughts

by Jay Sigler

  I walked back to the living room and sat next to Julie on the couch. “So where were we?” I asked with a smile.

  “I was telling you about how at work sometimes…”

  Her rambling forced me back into my own thoughts, set to autopilot again. I snapped back when I felt her hand slowly moving up my inner thigh, massaging it just enough to be sensual. As if there was any other type of action that could take place in that area.

  “I was just hoping it wasn’t too soon, you know?” she asked, her breathing suddenly deepening. I had missed something. She leaned over and put her mouth on mine, her lips trying to part mine. Her tongue felt like a snake's, darting in and out and around my sealed mouth, looking for a way in.

  I grabbed both of her shoulders and firmly pushed her away. “Julie. What the heck are you doing?”

  “I… I… I thought you wanted this?” she asked, trying to turn it on me.

  “What are you talking about? What makes you think I would want this?” With everyone close to me dead, including the body in the basement, I wanted nothing to do with “this.”

  “Well, for starters, I was the first person you ran to when you guys started having problems...”

  I had told her all of that? I felt a tug of recognition.

  “And all of the late night flirting between us. The days we didn't even have to stay late, but we did. I see the way you look at me.”

  I think she had confused my empty-on-the-inside look for one of lust.

  “Julie, listen. I’m flattered, but I did love my wife regardless of what you might have thought…”

  “No, you didn't! You said, 'It used to be great, blah, blah, blah, but lately we've drifted apart,' and you guys never talked, you didn't even sleep in the same room.”

  “B-b-but that doesn't mean I didn't love her. I mean, every couple goes through...”

  “What are you talking about? You even told me she was cheating on you. Do you remember what you told me, how you felt about cheaters? And she was doing it. She was cheating.” There was fire in her eyes.

  That couldn’t have been real. How did I not remember any of this?

  The room spun. “No. That isn't true. She was my best friend and the woman I loved. She wouldn't have done that to me.”

  “Well, she did. Why are you suddenly denying this? You were at work late, with me by the way, and came home and said she smelled like wine and cologne.”

  Just thinking of what that would smell like made my heart sink. But that couldn't be true. Not my Vicky.

  “You told me the worst thing in the world was a cheater and that they should all burn in hell. You told me this in tears while I held you. Me. I was the one who was there for you while that whore was running around with that carpenter, Shane or Shawn or whoever.”

  I felt like I had been punched in the heart at the mention of that name. Shawn was dead. But Shawn was a dentist, not a carpenter.

  “Night after night, I would hold you while you went on and on about it. How you would show her. How you and I should get together and that would show her.”

  “Did we ever.... you know?” Was I a hypocrite?

  “No. We both wanted to, but you stuck to your goddamn morals about cheating. I never understood it. I started to think it was me, because no man could have been that decent to a person who was doing such a terrible a thing to him. So was it?”

  “Was it what?” Everything was blurry, Julie, the room, my memories.

  “Was it me? She's gone now and it's just us. You're no longer constrained by your stupid ethical cheating rules. So it must be something. You've been brushing me off all night. Is it me?”

  “No, it's not you, Julie, I just...” I just couldn't remember any of this.

  “You just what? You have me here all to yourself, I'm practically throwing myself at you, and what? Still nothing. Were all those late night talks just a plan to get back at her? You told me it was more than that. That you could see yourself with me, if it weren't for her.”

  I said that? How could I have said that?

  “It's too soon. I loved her.” This was true; I loved Vicky with all my heart. Right?

  “Bullshit! You didn't love her. You even told me you hated her! I believe the exact words were, 'she's a cheating lying bitch that should rot in hell.'” Julie's voice was getting louder and louder.

  She had to be making this up. It was the only explanation. “Well, what about whatshisname, Pete? Wouldn’t you be cheating on him? Did you think I would like that? Did you consider that part of your plan? Did you even tell him about tonight or was it just another lie?” I was starting to get pissed off. I finished my wine, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of Stoli from the cabinet.

  “As I've told you a hundred times, it wouldn’t be cheating if I ended it with him.” She started to cry, but I couldn’t tell if they were tears of sadness or anger. I didn’t really care. “Why don't you love me all of a sudden? Things could be perfect for us.”

  I felt very disoriented and confused. The room was a blur behind Julie. I could only focus on her to keep from falling over.

  “FUCK YOU!” she screamed at me. “You said you were falling in love with me. Now that your cheating wife is out of the picture, you should be with me!”

  Something snapped.

  “You’re just another dirty fucking whore.” The world was as slurred as my words were. My head swam with mixed up memories of people, time, and space. Shawn, Julie, Vicky. “You are a cheater and a fucking liar!” I was screaming. My focus was gone. Julie shrunk back just a little under the wrath of my stupor.

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I know how you felt about her cheating and I’m nothing like that!” Her voice was close to hysterics. Tears ran down her face in rivers, dripping onto the hardwood floor.

  “You know nothing about what the fuck I want or who the fuck I want.” The world was coming at me and pushing away from me. “I can’t believe you fucking slept with him, you cheating filthy slut.”

  Past the tears in Julie’s eyes was a look of utter confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson.” I had no idea where this came from; I had no control over my words or my actions. I was again on autopilot, watching myself from somewhere else. Observing but unable to interact, like a dream.

  She started backpedaling into the living room. “Wha… wha… what did you j-j-j-just say?”

  I stood up.

  “I said, I'm going...”

  I walked back to the kitchen.

  “...to teach you...”

  I turned to her, picking up an empty wine bottle.

  “...A FUCKING LESSON!”

  I hurled the bottle at the stove, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

  I was gone.

  Chapter 30

  Stan wasn’t listening to her whine. “You’re a worthless dirty cheating slut that doesn’t deserve to live.” He grabbed a plastic bag from the same cabinet as the wine opening kit and walked towards her in a trance, caught between fantasy and reality. Memories were coming back to him that hadn’t been thought about in a long time. All the little tugs of recognition finally reeled in the entire story.

  He chased her to the front door that she frantically tried to unlock to get outside. A fleeting image of hope sprung to her face as the door started to pull open, but he flung his whole body into her, knocking her into the door, slamming it shut. He twisted the lock and leaned over her body where she lay, still recovering from being pummeled to the ground.

  “You’re not getting away that fucking easily, Vicky.” Stan said to her in a voice of pure confidence. He thought it felt scripted, rehearsed, repeated. “You can’t cheat on me and think you’ll get away with it.”

  Julie's eyes were a mixture of surprise and confusion. “But I-I-I-I’m not…”

  Not wanting to hear any more of her bullshit, he flipped up both hands and caught her head in the plastic bag. Her hands went up
to her head to rip off the bag, but he kneed her hard in the back and threw her to the ground again. Holding her down with one hand, he reached behind him into the umbrella stand next to the door, grabbing blindly for what he knew was there.

  Stan grabbed the walking stick that had been passed down through five generations of Fords. The stick was four and a half feet high and made of solid oak. At one time, it had been religiously polished and shined by its previous owner, his father. Its current owner didn’t even bother to wipe the dried red crust from around the edges. The heavy wood felt like it belonged in his hands. It gave him a sense of power, like a Greek warrior wielding his sword. Only recently had Stan found it packed away in his upstairs closet, unsure of how it got there.

  Julie got up and made feeble attempts with her hands to block the blows he dealt. He thought to himself that killing her would be a hell of a lot easier if there was some way to nail the bitch’s hands to the floor. He pushed Julie to the ground again and saw his opportunity when she used both hands to pad her fall. He swung down as hard as he could and connected. The cracking of the front of her skull reverberated through the entire length of the stick and into his hands, her life escaping with the vibration. Her unconscious body hit the ground and there were a few seconds where the bag remained transparent before filling with red spurting liquid. Stan felt a strange sensation, almost like déjà vu.

  Chapter 31

  I was awakened the next morning by a phone screaming to be answered. In addition to my hangover, I was physically exhausted. Every muscle in my arms, legs, and back screamed with pain as I leaned over and picked up the phone. It was Julie’s fiancé, Pete. It took me a full minute to associate the name. Julie’s car had been found about ten miles from my house, wrapped around a tree. She had flown through the windshield and run head-on into it. Julie was dead. And so was the man she had been with. He had flown into a barbed wire fence just beyond the tree. His face had been so greatly distorted that they needed to identify him through dental records. I jerked up out of my half sleep at this news and my body screamed at me for it.

  “Listen, I know we only met at… um… your wife’s… uh,” he said, his voice monotone from shock.

  “Funeral reception,” I finished for him. “Yes, I remember.” I now felt completely sober for the first time in months. Julie was gone. The reality took a moment to sink in.

  “Well, I just know Julie talked an awful lot about you and since the… uh, a few months ago, you guys have gotten close. I just wanted to let you know myself.”

  “I don’t even know what to say, Pete. I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t believe it. I was in total shock.

  “I just… Do you….Well, do you have any idea what she would have been doing out in the suburbs with that guy? And do you have any idea who he might have been? Had she ever mentioned another man?”

  It turned out she hadn’t told him anything about the night before. The entire dinner was a set-up from the beginning, the whole “Pete is sick” thing had been an excuse. I could have told him the truth. That we had dinner, a nice conversation, she made a move, I rejected it and she left. But I couldn’t do that to him. I had no idea who the guy was that she was found with, but it bothered me that she would even think to do such a thing. I hated cheaters and she knew how I felt about them. My rejecting her was the very reason she had left my house. I was confused as to why she met with someone after leaving my place.

  “I’m sorry, Pete. I have no idea. The last time I saw her was at work.” From one widower to another, this was a good lie.

  We talked for a few more minutes, long enough for him to give me the funeral and wake information and then I put the phone back on its charger. When the light on the phone’s base went from red to green, it was like a traffic light for my tears. It was almost like losing Vicky all over again. Julie and I were just friends, but in the short period of time after Vicky’s death, she had become my closest friend. And now she was gone too. It wasn’t fair. I was alone again.

  Chapter 32

  That Monday I got on the train again, not to go to work, but to say goodbye to a dear friend. I woke up later than I intended to so I took a later train. It turned out that this later train ran a new express route to the city, arriving just about the same time as my usual train. In fact, it would buy me about twenty extra minutes in the morning if I were to start taking it. I sat in the single row on the top, not facing anyone. I didn’t feel like being around people I don’t care about who don’t care about me.

  I sat there in the same daze I had been in since Saturday, looking out the window, thinking about nothing. Since the train ran express, there were fewer stops and the world was just one big blur, moving too fast to even see where I was. This made me sick after a while, so I turned my attention to the car. A whole car full of complete strangers, with their own happy lives, oblivious to the misery of mine.

  On the lower level, I saw an obese woman with gray hair wrapped in a bun eating about a week’s worth of calories and fat from a McDonald’s bag. She sat next to an older gentleman with an earring and a newspaper. They had just finished discussing how great this new express train was for their commute. The headline next to the older gentleman’s gaudy golden ring on his hand read:

  “Two Dead in Fatal Car Crash”

  Local dentist, Dr. Richard Griffin and Numbers Analyst, Ms. Julie Scarbough both perished in a tragic car accident this past Saturday. The couple was traveling southbound together around one o’clock a.m. in Ms. Scarbough’s car…

  Then the paper folded over and I couldn’t read any more from where I sat. It was just as well. I turned away in disgust at the bloody picture accompanying the article. I never had a stomach for that kind of thing and I couldn’t believe they'd publish that filth right on the front page.

  Behind the obese woman sat a friendly looking guy in his late forties, balding with deep wrinkles. He was reading the same paper as the older gentleman. He had just finished apologizing for not letting the obese woman and older gentlemen know he went on vacation a week or two ago. All three of them seemed like a close knit bunch of friends. I didn’t care. Aside from those three, there were rows and rows of people, all so close but not knowing or caring about each other. It was extremely disheartening. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the window, not wanting to be stuck here alone in a train full of so many strangers, yet not quite wanting to be a part of the blur outside. For the moment I would take comfort in just resting inside of my own head. Sitting in blackness from closed eyes, I heard a couple a few seats behind me arguing quietly about dishes or some other inconsequential thing that only lovers could argue about. The man sounded quite smug. I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 33

  I walked into Julie and Pete’s house. I knew from experience that it used to be a home. I passed through a cloud of solemn background chatter, full of sorrow and pain. The buffet table was to the right, holding comfort food for anyone looking to fill their emptiness. I had no desire to eat. I saw Pete standing in the back of the living room by himself, trying to hide the tears running down his face. Like people were going to judge him for crying. I made my way across the room through the maze of people, throwing out obligatory remarks to anyone who got in my way.

  “Hi, Pete. I’m so, so, so sorry. Julie was such a dear friend,” I said while extending my hand to take his. He surprised me by bypassing my hand and wrapping his arms around me in a giant hug.

  “Thank you, Stan. I feel like I’m falling apart here. I know this can’t be easy on you either, with your wife having so recently...”

  “The least of your worries at this time, Pete,” I said while awkwardly returning the hug. There was some comfort in physically touching someone going through the same thing I had. Nothing could ever change that. In that moment I felt a bond stronger than I had felt in months. Some basic part of me was no longer completely empty.

  “I… I… I… just c-c-c-can’t… Sh-sh-sh-she was everything to me. I couldn’t ever
imagine this hap-p-p-p-ening.” He was now openly sobbing on my shoulder. “Tell me… does it ever get easier?”

  I thought about this question for a moment before answering. I really did. I chose not to lie like I had with Julie’s whereabouts.

  “No. It doesn’t get easier. You will wake up every day for the rest of your life feeling this pain.” At least I was honest. “The trick is learning how to deal with it; that pulls you through your remaining days.”

  “How do you deal with it?”

  There was some recognition as I disengaged from our hug and looked right into his eyes, my hands still resting on his shoulders.

  “Pete, the mind is a very powerful thing. You’d be surprised at how much it can get you through.”

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  To all those who read this book in its early stages, I wholeheartedly thank you. I appreciate you taking the time in your busy lives to help me mold my story into what it is today. Every thought, feeling, point of confusion or clarity was noted and addressed to the best of my ability.

  Four people I must thank by name are Dina Darling, Emily Schein, Rachel Garrison, and Jeff Dometita. Without these four this book would not exist. Dina has been a constant supporter, encouraging me to pursue my writing and see it to the end. Emily relentlessly edited and refined the words contained in this book. It reads exceptionally better as a result. Rachel is the genius behind the artwork and is truly an amazing artist. She got inside the book and inside my head to create a cover that perfectly captures the essence of the story. Jeff selflessly took on all the effort to format both my words and the artwork to make sure the end result was what I had envisioned from the start. To all of you, I am eternally grateful.