Off the Rails

A bright light awoke me from a much-needed nap. The first thing I notice is the sky.

It’s gray with torrid red clouds. The color reminds me of mom’s candles burning. Oh, how she loves her candles.

She lights one in each corner of the kitchen, and the flames start to dance. Without missing a beat, she joins right in. She can feel my gaze and turns to look at me. Her expression of joy dissipates. She now looks panicked.

‘Tobias?’... ‘What are you doing here?’

Ashamed, I quickly turn away from her to see a young woman staring at me, and she repeats, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I don’t remember….’

Her background transitions from cabinets to rows of seats, but her face remains the same. I started rapid blinking to help clarify my surroundings.

My mother in the kitchen was only a figment of my imagination. I am actually on a train with this curious woman.

‘Toby, you look awful. Are you alright?’

‘I’m quite fine, thank you.’ My eyes are steady on her as she sits behind me. Who is she, how does she know my name, how did I get here? Now I sound like a curious one.

I shift to look out of the window to clear my head. Crimson, that’s how I would describe the clouds. They’re warm and friendly. The sky is consistent, unchanging. Even though hardly anything is happening, the view is hypnotizing. I suppose the woman is under its spell also because she hasn’t said a word.

The silence goes on for some time that I can’t track. We are watching the unchanging scenery, and then there’s a lighthouse. It appears to be floating. Maybe it’s just foggy, and the clouds are covering the base.

The lighthouse is solid white and beautiful greenery is starting to grow alongside it. Suddenly, a brilliant light fills the train. I am temporarily blinded, but I feel more at ease. As the light leaves, I realize that we are indeed floating. There is no evidence of the train being on rails, not even the sound of it. My head is now swarming with thoughts, and my mouth is eager to speak. I turn to the woman and ask, ‘How do we know each other?’

She meets me with laughter and asks, ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

Annoyed, I responded, ‘If I remembered, would I be asking?’

‘I suppose not. We’ve been somewhat friends for some time now.’

‘Then how come I do not remember you?’

‘You tell me.’

Her personality is fiery, just like her hair. I like that. Something about her gives me comfort. She senses that I am warming up to her and invites herself to sit next to me. Her little hand brushes hair behind my ear. ‘I don’t know why you’re so hard on yourself.’ she says.

‘Well, I’ve got to. Who else is going to take care of my mom?’

‘She’s a strong woman. She can handle herself.’ She swirls a glass of wine, challenging me.

I contemplate opening up to her. After finishing my glass, I come to terms with the fact that I have nothing to lose.

‘I know, but it feels like the least I can do for everything she had to put up with.’

Charlotte stares at me with her sharp green eyes. ‘You’re a good man Toby. Better than your father could ever dream.’

‘I could only hope so.’

Charlotte is now looking at me with confusion. ‘What are you hoping for?’

Was that conversation not real? It may have been a memory. But it certainly felt like it was happening right now.

‘Forget it.’ I say, trying to cover up the fact I have no concept of reality. I take a moment to grab my bearings before striking up the conversation again.

‘Is your name Charlotte?’

Her face lights up. ‘Ah, so you do remember me!’

‘I do now. It’s coming back in fragments. Are we married?’

‘Ha! In your dreams.’ Embarrassed, I sink back into my seat.

The light shines in again. I tightly close my eyes to avoid being blinded. When the inside of my eyelids goes from red to black, I slowly open my eyes. I am entirely exasperated to find a much older woman has replaced my friend.

‘Who are you?!’ I yell as I back away. ‘What have you done with Charlotte?’

Dumbfounded, the elderly lady says, ‘I am Charlotte… What’s wrong? Do you have brain damage or something?’

I remember the time I was sitting in my apartment. Fully intoxicated with negative thoughts, amongst other things, with a gun resting in my mouth. I quickly shake off that memory to tell old Charlotte that it may be brain damage. Studying her face, I realize that she is the woman I know. Her features are only now more defined by age, and her red hair has started to fade to strawberry blonde. I wonder how so many years could have passed in a blink of an eye. She says that she has been this old since I saw her today. This change is not something I can wrap my head around. How is it that she can be here in such old age? Do I appear old as well? I glimpse at my reflection. I am still in my golden years. The odd thing is, she was in her prime the last time I saw her.

Time must not exist here. We are floating in abscess, and I don’t even know how we got here. To my surprise, she asks me, ‘What are you doing here, Toby?’

I tell her that I’m not so sure. So I go on about various possibilities only to land that I simply lost my way.

To this, she perches her lips: ‘Don’t be daff. You know, you made a choice.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Everyone chooses their lives. You either choose reality or make your life a living hell.’

‘What if my life was hell from the beginning?’

‘You don’t truly believe that, do you?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Exactly. It’s about perspective. You can see things as they are or warp them to fit your sick fantasy.’

‘Is that why you originally looked the same as I left you?’

She cocks her head to the side, ‘What did you see?’

Her appearance may be different, but she still acts the same. ‘I saw youth.’

Charlotte comes to a burst of roaring laughter. ‘You chose to see me that way. It has been some time since you left.’

‘I would say so by the looks of it!’ I exclaim as I join in the laughter.

My laughter dissipates as I think about what she means by left. I did leave her. In multiple ways, multiple times. Once, an ugly breakup. She was too good for me. I had to call it off for her sake.

Twice… Well, I can’t remember the second time. I left my mother as well. I wonder how she is handling my absence. If Charlotte was a third of her current age when I left, mom must already be dead.

‘So, we chose to be here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where were we before?’

Nonchalantly, she states, ‘Earth.’

‘Hold on a second, Char… Are you saying we’re dead?’

Her smile is soft and attentive. ‘We are.’

Without the train slowing down, she says, ‘Welp, this is my stop.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I ask.

Slowly she pulls a ticket out of her dress pocket and says: ‘Would you look at that? My ticket out of here.’

I frantically search for a ticket of my own, but nothing. ‘You’re leaving?’

‘I was only passing through.’ Charlotte kisses my cheek before she disappears in the light from the lighthouse. I didn't close my eyes this time. Instead, I let the light shine through me and fight back the tears.

Was life as bad as I made it seem? Leaving earth so abruptly fixed nothing. She’s right. I chose the wrong perspective.

So now I am here, stuck in an infinite loop to question everything I ever was. That's not what I want anymore. I want to leave this place, and learn to be content. However, I don't have a ticket like Charlotte did. Maybe I’ll figure out how to leave after a much-needed nap.