Matthew and Isabel

A gray mist is swallowing the San Francisco International Airport. With the heavy clouds almost scratching the low horizon, it’s difficult to say what time of day it is. An airport train, used to transport passengers between the airport terminals, is trailing the light air-rail above the ground.

Isabel is dragging her coffin-shaped suitcase through the airport train car, looking distraught and disoriented. She is wearing black skinny jeans and a hoodie; her long hair is pulled to the side in a messy tail.

“Damn it”, – Isabel whispers, – “I’m so not there three hours before the departure.”

Matthew is sleeping in his seat, head tilted backwards. His long legs are blocking the space in the walkway, touching the opposite row of seats. Isabel does not see him and slams into his feet, nearly falling over. She grabs an empty seat corner to avoid landing on her face, and lifts herself up. Her bag falls off her shoulder and hits the floor.

“I’m sorry,” – Isabel says, – “I didn’t see you.”

“I’m sorry,” – Matthew says, – “I didn’t see you. I was sleeping.”

He folds his legs, yet there still isn’t much room between him and the opposite row of seats. Isabel picks up her bag from the floor, shakes off the dust, and puts it back on her shoulder. She inspects her suitcase for damage, doesn’t find any, and walks toward the door leading to the adjacent train car.

“It’s jammed,” – Matthew says, – “I tried to move to another train car earlier but couldn’t.”

Isabel proceeds to the train door anyway and pulls on the handle; the door does not budge. Isabel tries with both hands; no change.

“You didn’t believe me.” – Matthew comments under his breath.

“It’s not that, I only wanted to see for myself. Besides, I don’t know you.”

“Neither do I. Cheers.”

He slouches back into his seat and pulls his beanie down to cover his eyes. There are no travel bags or accessories next to him.

“Where are you headed?” – Isabel asks, sitting down in a row across a few seats to his left.

“You are still here?” – Matthew’s pretend grumpiness doesn’t sound convincing. He produces a faint smile, – “I haven’t decided yet.”

“The door is jammed, remember?” – Isabel sits down and looks around. – “For some reason, the stops aren’t marked anywhere.”

She walks to the other side of the train car and tries to open the door. It’s also jammed, and Isabel returns to her seat, disgruntled.

She looks at her suitcase sliding off to the side on the floor, and stops it with her foot. Then, she pulls out a wet tissue from her bag, wipes the suitcase, and places it in the seat next to hers. She looks outside the train window but can’t see much due to fog and gray mist obscuring her view.

“It’s hard to say where we are, exactly.” – Matthew says with his eyes closed. His beanie is no longer covering half of his face.

“Thought you were sleeping,” – Isabel murmurs, – “and didn’t expect you’d be eyeballing me.”

“I was trying to sleep, though you made it increasingly difficult with all your shenanigans. Can’t you just sit and enjoy the ride?”

“I’d normally like that, but not right now. My flight is taking off soon and I can’t miss it.”

“Where to?”

“London.”

“What for?”

“Supposedly, rational decision-making. There are important things I need to discuss with an important person.” – Isabel sighs deeply; there’s sadness in her voice.

“You make it sound so complicated.” – Matthew raises his hands.

“You have no idea.”

“No, seriously. When is your flight?”

“It’s in… Wait… I don’t even know what time it is! Do you have a watch or a phone on you?”

“No... Don’t you?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t ask.”

“Weird. Mine are also gone.”

They ride in silence for a few moments; Isabel is trying to stay calm. She inspects her handbag carefully, checks all her pockets, and finally, opens her suitcase to look inside. All her analog belongings look intact, yet her digital devices are missing. She turns to Matthew, whose eyes are wide open.

“When did you board this train?” – She asks, her voice quivering.

“I… don’t remember. Last few weeks of my life have been a blur.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had issues at home, at work. My girlfriend has cheated on me. I wanted to die.”

A beat.

“You shouldn’t be responsible for someone’s poor moral choices.” – Isabel notes.

Matthew looks at Isabel, then sideways, and finally, he starts laughing bitterly. His eyes swell with pain. He wipes his budding tears with a sleeve of his black hoodie and tilts backwards, as if to prevent the tears from falling down. Isabel looks at her feet, moved by his sadness and vulnerability.

“Damned gravity”, – Matthew explains when his eyes are no longer teary, – “I don’t want to fall apart but it’s kind of involuntary, you know.”

“I know.” – Isabel nods.

“At least, you didn’t say you are sorry. I could never understand people apologizing for something they didn’t do.” – Matthew looks at Isabel, while she is looking out of the window.

“Not everyone apologizes even for things they did do,” – Isabel muses. – “This bloody fog makes it difficult to see.” She tries to wipe the train window with a sleeve of her hoodie which, of course, doesn’t solve the problem.

Matthew checks his pockets and looks around, still unable to locate any of his usual travel accessories. Discouraged, he leans back into his seat.

“I wanted to kill myself last night.” – Matthew whispers, as if unsure whether he wants Isabel to hear it. She does, however; her expression turns grave.

“Is it that bad?” – She looks down, but her intonation goes up and almost hangs in the air.

“It’s pretty bad. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.” – Matthew says more loudly this time, and manages to look up. – “And it’s not even about the cheating; it’s about me, also. What a shitty person I must have been that she didn’t even want to break up with me, first? I mean, why not tell me she wasn’t in love with me anymore?”

Isabel blinks, unsure how to respond. The line on her forehead, formed seconds before, has faded away. She looks at Matthew and says, calmly, “It’s not about you.”

“What I’m saying is, don’t blame yourself. We never know what is going on in other people’s minds.” – Isabel sounds convincing.

“We had our whole future planned – where we would live, when we would get married, have kids… We had even chosen the dog’s name, for fuck’s sake.”

“Not the kids’ names?”

“Not the kids’ names.”

“What is the dog’s name?”

“Waffles.”

They chuckle and look away; Isabel – around the train car, Matthew – outside the window.

“I’m still baffled that this train has such a horrible layout with no signage or indicators whatsoever. How are we supposed to know when we have arrived?” – Isabel switches the topic. “I have probably already missed my flight.”

“To visit London and an important person living there?” – Matthew picks up the subject with slightly more energy.

“Yes, and also understand what is really important at this point.”

“You looked disheveled when you entered.”

“Weren’t you sleeping when I entered?”

“You woke me up by running my feet over.” – He gently nudges her foot with his own, and she reciprocates. – “Why?”

“I took some sleeping pills last night as my previous few were restless.”

Isabel springs to her feet, looking resolute and rebellious. “There has to be some kind of intercom in this bloody train.”

“Did you pick up the “bloody” thing in London?” – Matthew chuckles.

“I must have, don’t mind me.”

“I won’t, the same way I won’t mind the gap.”

“Shut up.” – She walks around the train car, looking for any buttons to press or displays to look at. She pulls on both doors, at each side of the train car, and both are still jammed. Frustrated, she sits down again and stretches her legs, almost touching Matthew’s seat with her shoes.

“He also cheated on me. And led me to believe it was my fault, too.” – Isabel sighs.

“How long ago was that?”

“A year ago. I wouldn’t have found out if I didn’t ask.”

“Why did you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“True. It’s better to know the truth, than to live in a sweet world of oblivion.” – Matthew nods.

“He was under the impression we weren’t together at the time. And somehow, I was responsible for it.”

“My girlfriend only confessed when I heard her on the phone with the guy, discussing what they would do with each other that evening. It was going on for months.”

“That’s sick. I don’t understand how people can live with such duality.”

“Was yours hooking around for a while?” – Matthew is leaning forward, eager to hear the answer.

“Only once, according to him.”

“Do you believe him?”

“What choice do I have?”

“You always have a choice. Even now, you are choosing to go see him and get to the bottom of things.”

Isabel looks pensive and nods in agreement. She opens her bag again, as if all her devices can appear from nowhere if she looks hard enough.

“You are right,” – she eventually says, – “I want to understand what’s next, even if it’s a dead end.”

She looks outside and sees a slight rain starting to drizzle.

“Look,” – Isabel says, – “there is a really bright red ledger among all the gray concrete, right there.” – She points outside, to the roof level of the parking lot atop the airport terminal. Matthew’s back stiffens.

“I was there last night,” – he says, – “and I don’t remember when I left.”

Isabel sighs and looks away from the ledger as they move slowly on the air rail bringing the train forward. It hasn’t stopped once since they found themselves onboard.

“You know what’s really bizarre,”, – she retorts, – “I have no idea how I got here either.”

A moment goes by before Isabel asks, “What were you doing up there?”

“Wanting to jump.”

“Did you?”

“You know the answer.”

Isabel considers for a moment, and follows with, “Actually, I don’t.”

Matthew looks at her in disbelief, then runs his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “Are you saying all this is a dream?”

“Or else.” – Isabel muses.

Matthew shakes his head; says to Isabel, “What did you do before getting on this train?”

“You already forgot? I took some sleeping pills to rest before the flight; my bags were already packed. Then, I probably snoozed for some time because I don’t remember the time between me falling asleep and bumping into your feet here.”

Matthew considers this for a moment, “So you think we are both dead and this is the after-life?”

“I think this is before-life. Look, we are suspended here, with no way to opt out or stop this train. There are no signs anywhere, no intercom. We’re floating in the universe, before we end up somewhere, if anything.” – Isabel looks to her right and gasps with her discovery, – “Look! There is an intercom by the door, actually!”

She gets up and rushes to the button, barely visible on the metal panel on the wall. Isabel slides the button cover to the side and presses the button, “Hello?”

There is static coming through, with no distinguishable voices. Isabel tries a few more times and reflects, “I didn’t see it there before.”

“I don’t think it was there before”, – Matthew agrees.

Isabel walks the train car end to end, then returns to her seat. She is no longer angry, or pensive, or excessively energetic. “What do you think all of this is?” – She asks.

“We can only guess,” – Matthew whispers, – “and that doesn’t mean we should stop trying to find out.”

He gets up to his feet and reaches the intercom button in one step. He looks at the button, now even more visible due to the increased brightness outside of the train car. Both the rain and the smoky mist outside are receding. He slides the metal cover aside and presses the button. The static is barely audible, the feedback coming through resembles a sound of typing on a keyboard.

“Anyone out there?” – Matthew says, not expecting any answer. Suddenly, his facial expression changes, making him cover his ears with his palms. Isabel is going through the same experience, her eyes are wide open. Matthew sits down again, removes his palms from his ears.

“Did you hear that too?” – He looks at Isabel, perplexed. She nods, her palms are still pressed firmly to the sides of her head.

“There was an answer to your question, but no one voiced it.” – She follows, slowly allowing her hands to fall back into her lap. – “I don’t even know if any words were spoken at all.”

Matthew looks around, helpless. The fog starts gathering anew, with thick clouds clinging to the outer side of the windows. Isabel is visibly shaken. Matthew walks back to the intercom button. The moment before his finger presses it, he turns to Isabel, “Do you mind if I ask another question?”

“Go for it.” – She nods, without a doubt.

Matthew presses the button; says, “Why can’t we leave?”

There is no static in the intercom feedback this time and instead, a clear, robotic voice. “Please be seated for your own safety.” – It says.

Matthew slams the button with his hand, causing the metal panel to tremble. He walks back to his seat; the train accelerates. Not much can be seen outside, except the heavy, voluminous clouds.

“Did the voice say it wasn’t our stop, yet?” – Isabel asks in a moment. – “The one shrieking in your head, as if scratching a glass wall with a nail.”

“Yes, it did. I wouldn’t call it a “voice”, though. It felt like my own thoughts, my explanation. But someone put those thoughts in there, hence the pain.”

“I know what you mean,” – Isabel agrees, – “I had a similar impression. It felt violent and yet reassuring, all at once.”

It’s getting darker outside as they ride. None of them tries to get up, walk the perimeter, or ask questions anymore. The train is moving at monotonous speed.

Isabel’s head is slowly dropping into her chest; she seems exhausted. Instinctively, she lifts her head a few times, and finally gives in to sleep. Matthew’s eyes are closing, he rubs them violently. Finally, he pulls his beanie over his eyes and relaxes in his seat.

The outside world gets even darker. Matthew’s legs extend involuntarily when he falls deeper asleep. His left foot touches Isabel’s shoe once more, waking her up. She straightens her neck; the rest of her body is still relaxed. This time, she doesn’t jump or comment on Matthew's foot movement, and only smiles to herself. Suddenly, her eyes widen, she sits up and extends her left hand to touch Matthew’s knee.

“Matthew!” – She says, – “Look at this!”

Matthew’s body shakes as he sits up, pulling up the beanie from his eyes. He looks at Isabel, beaming with excitement.

“How did you know my name?” – He says.

“Isn’t it your name, though?” – Isabel looks confused, yet her expression doesn’t change. – “Look.”

She is leaning toward a small monitor above the intercom button on the side of the train car. A news report is in progress, sans-audio. In it, there is an anchor in the studio saying something about climate change, based on the imagery. Then, a correspondent takes over, covering a forest fire in Sonoma county.

“I thought we introduced each other. Maybe it was in the intercom message?” – Isabel says.

“Somehow, there was a lot in that message. Isabel, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” – Isabel whispers and returns her gaze to the screen.

Matthew stands up and brings his hand to the monitor. “There has to be a sound control, somewhere.”

He traces the rectangular shape with his fingers, not finding any buttons. Then, he touches the screen. A sound control slider comes up, and Matthew maxes out the volume.

The news anchor in the studio begins another segment; her face solemn.

“In the next section, we will cover local obituaries. To pay all due respect, we will be taking a moment of silence while the names of the deceased appear on the screen.”

There are a few photo collages with a brief commentary about each person; most of the deceased are older people. Isabel is glued to the screen, while Matthew isn’t interested as much. Suddenly, Isabel’s eyes widen and she gasps, in disbelief.

On screen, there is a photo of Matthew, who has been dead for over 24 hours. The airport security found his body below a bright-colored red ledger of the rooftop parking garage.

Isabel goes next. Her photo presented is taken on a summer day, and she is wearing a floral wreath on her head. Cause of death: lethal dose of a prescription-only sleep medication.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” – Matthew says. – “All of this stopped making any sense since we met.”

“True,” – Isabel agrees, – “We met under very unusual circumstances.”

She looks away from the screen as the news program credits roll in. The scenery outside the train is completely black, with no lights or signs visible. The intercom button has also vanished.

Gradually, the train emerges from the pitch-black ambiance, as if exiting from a tunnel. There is a pale amber light ahead, similar to a road sign in the distance, reflected onto the wet asphalt. Isabel stands up and walks toward the light, visible through the side train door. Matthews follows her, stepping closely to where she stands. He takes her hand. The light becomes effervescent, slowly consuming them both.