It’s Not Me It’s Him

The ever-changing scenery scrolls by your drowsy eyes as you gaze out a window. The gentle rocking from side to side of the train carriage only adds to the overall listlessness your body is feeling. Travelling by train is an unusual experience for you, only occurring when your journeys take you across the pond. These trips have become more frequent as the political climate continues to change around the globe, and your particular skill set is in greater demand.

The train rumbles on and your attention shifts to the passengers sharing the car with you. Being inquisitive by nature, you assign yourself the task of trying to work out why they are travelling on this day, at this time, and to where. You recognize the fact that it’s impossible to know if your analogies will be totally accurate for every passenger unless you ask each one of them why they are there, but it will keep your mind active and, more importantly, alert.

The first subject, or in this case group of subjects, is a woman in her mid-thirties travelling with two pre-teen children. Your logic quickly deduces that she is either a mother or nanny taking the children to visit their grandparents or possibly their father. She appears attentive to the children, but it’s obvious to you that she wishes the trip were over. Traveling with children, even well-behaved ones such as these two, is draining. Mentally wishing her luck, your psyche moves on to your next subject.

The young couple who catch your attention are located five rows in front of you. You’ve decided they must be newlyweds or have just gotten engaged by the way they keep clinging to each other. You think about how much you’ve missed out on over the years, but it’s the life you chose, and there is no do-over button. Your inner self tells you to suck it up and move on.

Two rows behind the woman and kids is a man dressed in business attire. You have come in contact with his type many times in your career. His slicked-back hair, wrinkle-free sports jacket, and briefcase that he has placed on the seat beside him transmits a message to you and everyone else in the train that he is too important to be trifled with. Over the years, you have found his ilk to be most distasteful.

Once again your attention is drawn to the panoramic view the window is offering you. Green rolling hills populated with grazing sheep and large farmhouses. You ponder what things run through a sheep’s mind and conclude their basic thoughts are probably similar to yours. Food, water, shelter, protection from aggressors, companionship—all the necessary things every animal needs. Their requirements and yours are probably well aligned.

Once again your mind shifts to your fellow passengers. Another solo traveler catches your attention. He is so similar to you in his clothes, looks, and mannerisms that you could be cousins. It is not unusual to cross paths with others in your line of work. You know of no reason to be expecting problems from anyone, but that doesn’t mean you are safe. He looks over his shoulder and gives you a brief glance, then returns to his own window. You decide that this man is not your enemy or your friend. He, like you, is just one more traveler on a train from London’s Paddington station to Wales.

The train pulls into Cwmbran, and you watch as everyone gathers their belongings in preparation to disembark. Your alter ego belittles you for being such a paranoid fool. You reply as you always do by reminding him that it’s not me but you who are so deep into the game you suspect everyone. While you and your Id are going through this senseless back and forth, a strange thing occurs.

You observe the young couple immediately head for the door and quickly exit the train. As you pass by the man with the briefcase, he calls to the children, and they push by in their effort to join him, calling out, “Coming, Father.” The man who could be my cousin remains seated, as does the woman whom you thought was with the children. She looks up as you pass and briefly smiles. As you clear her row of seats, your senses detect movement from behind you, followed by a brief stinging sensation in your neck.

The woman steadies you and helps place your weakening body onto a vacant seat. Again, she smiles and softly says in a distinctly Russian accent, “Regards from my boss at the Kremlin.”

With your final attempt to speak, you do your best to explain, “It’s not me, it’s him.”