Shadow and Light

On an early November morning, upon the close of a decade wasted, Sadie exits the building she spent every day dying slowly. There’s nowhere to go but back the way she came, to a quiet apartment on Bowery and Grand. “We’re sorry” were the last words of her former boss. The sun hits her first, too hot for the time of year, and she sweats under her coat. Or maybe she was already sweating from the 34th floor. She notices the clogged arteries of New York’s financial district. A mass of starched suits heading to offices identical to the one she just left. Every morning it looks like this, but everyone is unaware because it passes for ordinary.

It’s impossible for Sadie to swim upstream in this Manhattan river. Brand strategists and property lawyers and human resource specialists and personal finance consultants. Can they tell she wasn’t one of them? See it in her wrinkled trousers? The face that has been wiped clean of the vacant expression of normalcy? Instead, replaced with a self-awareness that makes her skin crawl. She’s suddenly and painfully aware of her every move and everyone else's. Half expecting everyone to turn on her, she flinches. “You don’t belong,” they would yell, and no matter how fast she would try to run, her legs would be pinned in mud until they swallowed her whole. She continues to sweat.

Sadie moves up the street, eager to be anywhere but here. This is the latest in a long string of dismal wrongdoings, chronic tragedies, and ambivalent setbacks. Sadie, to no one but herself, is a letdown.

There is a woman in her apartment. Not a stranger, a girlfriend, but she could just as quickly be nameless. They’ve surpassed fighting every night to a charged quietness, both too afraid of what comes next. So they settle for silence. Another loss. Her heart quickens, and adrenaline surges. What would she even say to her? She weaves her way down the block, heading towards the two, thinking of excuses for being home. She could say the office was infested with rats. She could say there’s been a family emergency, but Cal knows her family is deceased, and there is no one left who would call.

Looking ahead to the green crosswalk sign, she decides she could claim to be sick. She looked sick, her eyes puffy and surrounded by dark bags. People knew her to be capable but also somewhat fragile and moody. No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, there was always something unlikable in some fundamental, uncomfortable way. She never said the right things. She didn’t try hard enough. Her productivity was the opposite of prolific; they could count on her only to let something important fall through the cracks.

She didn’t know she was crying, but the wind hit the wetness on her cheeks. It felt cold. No one notices or cares. She knew this was coming, and yet she watched the inevitable storm crash over her head. She stops walking. There’s a delay before the inert mass realizes. One guy pushes into her. “Watch it,” he says. A few others look at her in distaste. And then, just like that, they’ve adapted because no one cares that she’s standing in the middle of the street. None of it matters.

For a moment, she thinks, what if this was it?

—

Then suddenly, she is here, or somewhere, or nowhere. Sadie doesn’t know, but she’s in a place she wasn’t before. Her eyes focus, and she sees flashes of green. So many shades of sage and forest with specs of gold. She finds herself looking out a window. Everything’s moving.

It’s a train. Outside, the sun is beginning to set. The light refracts off the trees causing shadows to dance from one corner of her vision to another. They’re going fast enough her eyes can’t keep up, and the blurring of colors becomes a painting. Inside, the air is still. The seats are plush and red, blending in with cherry wood molding. She shakes her head. Where is she? Sadie has never been on a train that looks this clean. Not a spec of dirt or a piece of trash. The paint looks fresh, and the windows are crystal clear. It's not caked in years of dirt and grime like the subways she’s used to. Did she get on the wrong train or something? Where was she going? She looks around for help. Maybe she blacked out? But she is alone on a train heading anywhere.

Her head feels heavy as she tries to retrace her steps. All she can remember is waking up this morning, drinking lukewarm coffee, and walking out the door at 7:49 AM without so much as a kiss goodbye. It seemed like such a normal morning, but now she’s here. She gets up from the train seat to look out the window, trying to determine where she is, but nothing looks like the familiarity of heading upstate.

How did a whole day pass, and she can’t even remember? But there it is, the sun falling towards the treeline, turning blue to dusk with bursts of orange spreading across the sky. Sadie must be confused. She leans against the glass, trying to calm her climbing fear. Don’t panic. She mumbles to herself. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. She looks up again, hoping that she was just having a vivid daydream and she was actually on her normal subway, finishing her normal day, on her normal route home. But instead, she finds the sun has already slipped far below the trees, and it is darker than it should be.

An old church bell rings. Her spine shoots up straight as the ringing makes its way through her body. Time stops just before a swell of energy takes over the car. Even though the train never stopped moving, the sound of people echo through the neighboring cars. The door opens, and Sadie jumps. In comes pouring people. Like they had picked up passengers from a busy platform. Sadie wonders if they’ve mysteriously been stranded on this train, too. As more people enter, she starts backing down the aisle, not realizing people are flowing in from both directions. She stumbles into someone. Sadie turns to see a billowy old man scowling at her.

“Get out of my way,” he says. “I’ve waited a long time for this seat, and you’re not getting it.” Sadie shrinks under the weight of his voice. She tries to pivot, but a jostling of the train causes her to lose her balance. She lurches backward, catching wind as she falls. She hits the ground and lets out a short cry. It gets caught in her mouth as she notices the man accusing her of taking his seat isn’t touching the ground. He seems to end at his pant leg. The rest of him blurs into shadows. Her eyes widen. He didn’t even watch her fall. He just slowly moves to his seat, sinking into the plush, as if he’s done this every day for years. She tries to look at his face, but his features are hard to pinpoint, always seeming to slip away right as she starts to understand them.

She scrambles away but feels another presence behind her. She looks up to see a woman hovering over her like she was eyeing a bug on her shoe. But she has no shoes. Her eyes are big. Nose sharp. Everything looks wrong. The woman starts to shriek indiscernible words until Sadie crawls closer to the corner of the car. Out of the way, the woman waves her ticket in dismay with a satisfying huff and takes a seat.

Sadie closes her eyes. Hoping it will all go away that she’s imagining these strange people. Imagining the train. This is just a horrible nightmare. She squeezes her eyes shut and contorts her body into a fetal hug. She doesn’t know how long she stayed like this. Her slim frame curled up near the beak-like woman with shadows for feet. She tunes out the sounds of them. The other passengers getting settled.

But then, as soft as a feather, something brushes her arm. Sadie hesitates, not wanting to be confronted by another hostile imagination. Then, she feels it again, slightly firmer. A gentle hand nudging her. She takes a deep breath and stares at a boy.

“Hey, are you okay?” he smiles. There’s a friendliness to his eyes and a familiarity to his voice, but she can’t place it.

“Who?” she mumbles. “Who are you?”

The boy shrugs his shoulders and smiles again. “Who are you?” he says.

“Sadie,” she sits up, wanting to inspect the boy closer, but her attention is pulled to all the people-like shadows that fill the seats. Some of them look younger, waving their wispy limbs in a story. Others minding their business. The only normal thing is the steady thrum of their moving train. Picking up on her confusion, the boy nods and helps her sit up. “Don’t worry about them. They’re harmless, except for the Conductor.”

Sadie has a million questions. But all that comes out is, “Huh?”

The kid shrugs, then becomes serious. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Sadie sits up straighter. He’s still crouching over her. She cranes her head down to see if he has feet. To her relief, all ten toes are perfectly exposed. Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, she tries to get up and move towards the window. The boy pushes her back down.

“Not yet,” he says. Piercing blue eyes stare deeply into hers.

“Do I know you?” she asks.

He shrugs again but nods slightly. “I remember your face,” but he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he looks toward the front of the train. She follows his gaze. “We don’t have much time.”

“Time for what?” she looks at him. He’s several years younger than her but no more than seventeen. He has short brown hair the color of chestnuts. It’s clean and well kept. She thinks his ears are too big, but maybe he could still grow into them. He has a slight gap in his two-front teeth like she had when she was that age. She was embarrassed at the time, but looking at this boy now, a sort of fondness takes over her grainy self-image. Time heals insecurities like that. He’s staring at her. She blinks away, checking back down the hall to feign purpose.

“Sometimes, people come here on accident,” he says. “You can get off, but only if you reach the engine room. Then, you have to convince the Engine Man to stop the train.”

“Listen. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sadie says. “Or what train I’m on, but I’ll just get off at the next stop.

He turns towards her and shoves a finger at her nose. “No, you listen. You have to get to the Engine Man before the Conductor finds you. Once he gives you a ticket, you’re stuck. You stay here.”

Stay here? Sadie doesn’t even know where here is. Let alone where they’re going. “Well, do you have a ticket?”

He looks down. “No, but I can’t leave either.”

“What do you mean?” Sadie shakes her head. None of this makes sense. “Why haven’t you gone to the Engine Man?”

“I’ve tried. I can’t convince him to stop the train.”

“What makes you think I can?”

“Because. You have to remember who you are and how you got here.”

“I don’t know how I got here.”

“But you know who you are. That could be enough.” He stands up.

Before she could ask him who he is, the door at the front of the car flings open, and a tall, slender man fills the frame. The boy quickly grabs her hand. “Come on,” he says and pulls her up, dragging her towards the opposite doorway. As they pass row after row of seated passengers, Sadie looks for their feet, already knowing there are none. No heels or sneakers or rush hour loafers. Just shadows.

“All aboard. Get your ticket. Get your seat,” the man calls. Sadie looks back to see he is more realized than the rest with a crisp white shirt and blue epaulets on his shoulders. He must be the Conductor. Is what the boy said true? Will she be stuck on the train if he catches her?

The boy opens the backdoor and pulls her out with all his might. Sadie gasps as she tries to right herself before falling on the tracks, only to realize there are no tracks. The train is floating on an invisible line. More and more cars appear at the edge of the horizon, with trees growing and appearing along with them. The boy doesn’t hesitate before launching himself up a ladder to the roof.

“What are you doing?” Sadie screams, but the whistle of the train drowns out the sound. He motions for her to follow. She looks back at the Conductor to see his slender legs glide past the aisles, two at a time. She looks back to see the boy has already disappeared over the edge. She takes a shaky breath and begins to climb. Each rung is ice cold, and she clings to it. Knuckles white. She pushes off the last step and hoists herself up. She can’t move, paralyzed by the wind whipping her face. She lays there, holding on for dear life.

The boy stands there looking at her when she finally opens her eyes. He extends his hand and pulls her up. They stand there. Just two unusual strangers on top of an infinite train. She’s too scared to speak, so she doesn’t. Instead, she nods at him to let him know she’s okay.

He squeezes her hand before letting go and points towards the front. “Engine Man is that way.” He must have done this a hundred times. Each time the Conductor came through, he would just climb to the top of the train and hop between cars.

Together, they make their way across. Her steps timid and shaky. His sure and steady. She’s surprised to see the next car is at least six feet away, whisking along the same imaginary track.

“How are we supposed to cross?”

“We jump.”

“I can’t jump.”

“You have to. It’s the only way.”

“I’ll fall.”

“You won’t. Trust me, I know.” His eyes flicker with something dark, a look she knows all too well. But before she can say anything, he jumps. Lands perfectly on the other platform. Then he shouts something, but she can’t make it out.

She walks to the edge of the train and looks down. Below the track is nothing but darkness. She can’t shake the feeling that rolls through her. She‘s starting to remember. Not just her getting fired, but all of the days leading up to today. She often found herself imagining a world that didn’t include her. A world that lacked mediocrity and ambivalent romance and unbearable routine, day in and day out, and most of all, lacking Sadie. Sadie, the keeper of the pain and shame of a neglected heart. She can blame her bosses all she wants, but it’s her fault she was fired. It’s her fault that Cal is unhappy, stuck in a relationship she’s hesitant to abandon. It’s always her fault. She takes another step closer to the edge.

The world without Sadie is still the world, but going back to her life is like the shadows below, bleak and unrelenting. Sadie knows now that she didn’t end up here by accident. She also knows it would be a relief to escape for a little while longer. Sadie closes her eyes.

For a moment, she thinks, what if I didn’t try to go back?

“SADIE,” the boy is shouting at her.

She opens her eyes to see she’s inside another train car.

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Sadie shakes her head.

“You can’t get off the train,” he said. “If you fall, you just end up back in one of these seats. Believe me. I’ve tried.”

Sadie isn’t surprised. Trying over and over to convince the Engine Man to stop the train, only to be so conspicuously there, no telling how many days have passed. Wouldn’t anyone give up? Or is that reserved for those who are desperate and tired? They both look so tired.

“How did you get here?” the boy squeezes her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she repeats.

“You do know,” he says again.

“I wasn’t happy.” Sadie stares blankly.

“Why?”

“I uh— I don’t know,” she shakes her head. Tears welling, threatening to burst through their hydrogen bonds. She’s never made it a habit to confide in pubescent boys stuck on a train running from shadow people and ominous conductors before, but she doesn’t really see a reason not to. There’s something comforting about his voice, his cleverness, his way of seeing through facades. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt this way. Lost.”

“But you’re not lost like I am.” Sadie looks the boy over. He’s right. This boy has no idea how he got here. She sees the hollowness under his eyes. Before, it only made the blue appear even brighter, but now, they look more like the side effects of losing.

And again, a flicker of something familiar.

When the boy turns his head to look out of the everchanging window, she catches it — the mole on his jawline. And flicker turns to flame. She remembers that mole. It kind of looks like the shape of Texas. She used to stare at it all the time. She had almost forgotten about it, buried under time and pain. But the weight of remembering slams her chest, and her breath catches. Sadie grabs him by the shoulders and squeezes. “Cory,” she whispers. The boy looks confused at first. The gears turn behind his eyes before they soften as it clicks into place. “Cory,” she breaths again and scoops him into a hug. He stiffens and then relaxes into her — their embrace floods with warmth.

She pulls away, imagining Cory with cherry pink cheeks and a pudgy chin. For a moment, they’re both taken back to that day. The train becomes a lake. Grassy sand squishes into their toes. They see their reflections shimmer as they lean over to look at the water. Greeted by wire braces and volcanic pimples, Sadie looks fifteen again, playing with her baby brother. Her parents had just died, and she was taken in by her aunt along with six-year-old Corbin, aka Cory, Hoyte.

At a different time in her life, the lake they found themselves standing in had been her favorite place in the world. And Cory her favorite person. Until that day. His face contorts. He’s remembering, too.

“Sabee,” he whispers. Cory sounds just like he did all those years ago, and it dawns on her that he’s been stuck on this train for eleven years. He’s been in limbo ever since that day, but then again, so has she. Clouds form overhead, and rain starts to pour from inside the train, drenching them and turning their reflection into a blur.

He lets go of her to sit on the car floor as the storm rages on. Water from the lake laps at their feet. They’re both soaking wet. Their hair matted on their forehead, streaming water into their eyes. She wipes it away, unsure if it’s just rain or she’s crying.

“I remember,” he says.

“Cory, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not going to be able to go back, am I?”

“Maybe you can,” Sadie says through her guilt

“I think maybe you saved me.”

Sadie shakes her head. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t go back for you. It was my fault.”

“But you did. You came back for me today.” Corry squeezes her hand. “I remember now. I needed to tell you it was okay. I saw you right after it happened. I wanted to find mom and dad, but I couldn’t. You were so sad. I couldn’t leave you either.”

“HEY!” They whip around to see their turbulent lake, full of regret and revival, give way to the Conductor entering the car door. He’s ready to claim his passengers. Cory jumps to his feet, and Sadie follows suit. Just like that, the lake becomes a train again. She eyes the other end of the car. How many more until they reach the Engine Man? Could they make it before he catches them?

“You’re not supposed to be here without a ticket,” the Conductor says.

Cory puts his hands up in surrender. “I know.” He looks at Sadie and nods. “It’s going to be okay.” She doesn’t understand. He starts to push her behind him towards the doorway.

“Sadie, go to the Engine Man. Tell him our story.”

Sadie clings to his arm. “No, you have to come with me.” She’s crying again. She can barely distinguish Cory or the Conductor, but she doesn’t want to lose his face. Her memory of him had faded from all those years; he’s so handsome now. She wishes she could’ve seen him grow up.

“Let me get two tickets. You both can have a seat,” the Conductor says. He starts moving toward the siblings. Cory stands protectively in front of Sadie, pushing her farther towards the escape like the Conductor is someone to be afraid of. But he isn’t really. He’s a spirit farer.

“Or I’ll stay here with you,” Sadie pleads.

“Sadie, can’t you see?” Cory hugs her and whispers, “I love you, but you can’t stay. You have spent all these years feeling guilty. Feeling lost. But you’re the best person I’ve ever known. Let me go find Mom and Dad. I’ll tell them you’re alright.”

In one swift motion, Cory opens the car door, pushes Sadie outside, and shuts it with a finality she would never have been capable of. She barely managed one final squeeze to show him how much she loved him. How much she wished they could trade places.

“Corbin Hoyte. Welcome aboard.” Sadie throws her hands against the window, tears streaming down her face. But when the Conductor punches his ticket, something shifts. A sigh of relief sweeps the car. Instead of shadows, Cory is made of light, like an angel. His younger self emerges. With a dimpled grin, he waves goodbye taking his final seat, ticket in hand.

If she stayed on the train, she wouldn’t be ready to cross into the light. Not until she experiences life for the both of them.

Somehow, she peels herself from the window. She begins moving from car to car. Making the leap without looking down. She doesn’t slow down until the cars give way to the front of the train. The Engine Man. She pushes the door open to see a man in a black coat tossing coal into a raging fire. Steam whistle as the endless train continues to propel forward to the unknown. The man doesn’t turn to acknowledge her, only mutters, “What do you want.”

“I need to get off this train.”

“I don’t stop the train,” he says. “Go back to the Conductor and get your seat.”

“No,” she says.

The Engine Man turns around to size her up, amused. He’s shorter than the Conductor but thicker. He’s got a round belly, gray hair, and weathered features. He looks like a man who’s tired and determined. Two things she didn’t think could go together. “Only if you can tell me who you are and how you got here.”

She begins to tell her story, and he nods. She doesn’t just tell him about being fired or where she’s from. She tells him who she is. About Cory. About all the days leading up to today. Meanwhile, the sun begins to rise. Just as it had set, orange beams meet blue skies. Except for today, they’re growing, not receding. And the Engine Man? He listens to her whole story from start to finish. In the end, he nods again and makes his way to a lever in the corner of the room. “Your stop is coming up,” he says, and his eyes soften, but only a little.

“Why do you only stop the train if you remember?” Sadie asks.

“Because,” he grunts. His voice is gruff, and his mustache twitches when he speaks. “It’s a sign of the living.”

He pulls the lever. The train comes screeching to a halt.

—

And then suddenly, she’s back on a Manhattan street during rush hour being yanked from behind. A man pulls her away from a speeding taxi blazing through the crosswalk. When the honk of cars fades away, she can only hear her breathing.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asks.

Sadie rights herself, looks around, and nods. “Yeah, I think so.”