The Last Stop

My eyes are being assaulted by the over saturation of colors coming off of all of the surrounding seats and the glow of the white walls, both caused by the unforgiving fluorescent lights above. Normally, this doesn't bother me. Normally I don't even notice. But right now, it's just a lot to take in.

I squint and blink harshly, trying to focus my eyes a bit, and quit focusing on the complete overload on my senses. Well, on my eyes. It's actually pretty quiet and right now. Doesn't really smell like anything either, for once.

As I press into my closed eyes with cold fingers, I begin to settle into the steady rumble of the train, and wipe away the drowsiness. I'm facing inward towards the aisle in one of the sets of three seats meant for the disabled, but there's no one in need of them right now. I watch as outside lights flicker past, letting the sensory assault fade into a part of the experience.

Commuting has always been boring, but I do it every day. Going to work, going home. It's unavoidable in the city. That's why I usually bring music to listen to, but for whatever reason, I didn't bring my ear things this time. I reach into my pocket just to be sure, but I can't find anything. It feels like something is missing. I don't know. I'll have to figure it out later.

I close my eyes, leaning back into the seat while slightly drooping my chin forward.

“Hey, Kiddo.”

It's not an aggressive voice, but I'm still startled to hear it. I open my eyes and look to my side. I'm immediately overwhelmed with a feeling of comfort that I simply can't explain.

“Oh, hey Mom!” I smile. I don't remember the last time we caught the train together.

That's the first thing that comes to my mind, and so I blurt out as much. “I don't remember the last time we were on the train together!” And I chuckle, leaning in for a brief hug.

She does too, before adding, “You and trains, I swear!” We share a laugh.

I don't know why, but I'm so relieved to see her right now. Feels like we haven't talked in ages. Maybe it's just because of the disorientation of the ride. I think I've always had sensory problems. Or anxiety, maybe. Either way, I'm so happy to catch up.

“It's so good to see you! You never take my train. This must be a special trip?” I ask.

“Yeah, I think it's gonna be pretty special, one way or another,” she answers. Before I can even begin to ponder what she means, she speaks again. “How's the ride been for you? I'm not super fond of this one, if I'm being honest.”

I nod in agreement. “Yeah, I don't know what it is right now, but something about this one is giving me a headache. I think it's the lights.” Without thinking, I change the subject. “How have you been? I feel like it's been so long!” I'm really so happy to see her right now; my eyes must be red!

“I've been wonderful.”

“Things treating you well in the new place?” I ask.

“It's been amazing. I can't wait for you to see it, but I don't know if I'm ready for you to come over yet.” She laughs. “I'm sure you've been plenty busy, anyway! How have you been? What's new with you?”

I feel a twinge of guilt at the "busy" comment, but even so, I automatically answer, “I'm doing pretty alright! Y'know, just working, and stuff. Filling a lot of time, I guess.”

“Yeah? People treat you well and everything? You like your boss?”

I pause to consider my answer. “Yeah, I mean, I think so. I guess my boss can be kind of a hard-ass sometimes. Or, well, maybe not so bad, I don't think.” I'm really not confident in my answer, and, as my mom, she can tell.

Almost as if to echo my thoughts, she states back, “You don't sound very confident in your answer,” chuckling again.

At a loss for words, I laugh, “ I guess not!”

She shrugs and lets it go, putting up her hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. I mean, as long as your happy there. What do you do?”

“Well, I work with, um,” I pause, looking for the right words. “It's like a, um, y'know,” I struggle, snapping my fingers. I sigh in frustration. “It's really hard to explain.”

She is still smiling at me as she nods, her beautiful eyes softening. It's always been like she looks right into my soul. “I get it. I think we all get to that point at some point in our lives.”

My eyes fall to the distance beyond her, at nothing in particular. I have so much to tell her about, and I'm just trying to figure out where to start. “It's so weird,” I say, “It's like I have so much I want to talk about, but now that I get the chance, I can't think of any of it!” I let out another chuckle, though this time it's a little more awkward. “Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do, it's okay!” she gives me a little nudge on my shoulder. “Just focus for a second, I'm sure it'll hit you.”

“Yeah.”

“How are things at home?” she asks.

“Oh, they're pretty good!” I answer without hesitation.

“Oh good! I'm glad to hear it! Anything new? You still live with roommates? How are they doing?”

And again, I automatically answer, “Oh they're great! Y'know, I guess there's nothing really new going on, at least that I can think of.”

“Nothing? It sounded like there was a second ago!” she teased.

I shake my head, smiling incredulously. “I know! Man, I just, I swear, it feels like so much has happened since we last talked, but I'm totally blank!” I'm a little bit tense in my shoulders and arms, and I know it shows in my face.

A bit of concern creeps in behind her smile. She leans in just a tad, and in a voice that soothes in a way that only a mother's could, she asks, “Are you okay, Sweetie?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “I'm just...” I try to piece together why I'm so stressed all of the sudden that I can't focus at all on really anything. Then I realize. “I think I just don't want to be late, and I can't get my mind off of it. It's just in the back of my head, taking all of my attention, I think.”

She furrows her brow. “Late for what?” she asks earnestly.

I pause. “Y'know, the...” I'm snapping my fingers again. What am I running late for? “...the...” I'm waving my hand around my face now, like an idiot.

She leans forward into my line of sight, which had drifted down. My eyes follow hers as she sits back up slowly, and quietly asks, “Where do you think we're going?”

We aren't going anywhere. At least of that I feel certain. Did she follow me here or something? Something feels really off. “Well, I'm on my commute, going to the...” hopelessly, all I get out is, “...one place.” I shake my head, utterly confused.

Her face isn't smiling anymore, but it's still soft as it ever was, comforting even. She licks her lips and sits up, getting ready to speak, though now it seems like she is the one struggling for words. “How long have you been on your commute?” she asks.

I think about it. “I...”

I really don't know.

With no answer, I try to fake it anyway, “Just a...while.”

“Have you seen a lot of people?”

“Well, sure, there's you, of course, and,” I start waving my hand in the air again, as if the air is going to blow more information into my mouth, “that...one...um... Y'know.” I'm at a loss, and I am starting to feel that something is really wrong here.

She takes a moment again, before asking, “Does anything here seem off to you, somehow?”

I'm a little annoyed, too, actually. “You're acting like you know more than I do, but I'm not a kid anymore, you know. Maybe treat me like an adult for once and tell me what's going on?” She winced and I can tell that stung a bit. It was an animosity that crept into my voice and thoughts that I forgot we had shared before.

And yet, she didn't answer. “Does it?” We made eye contact, and then she motioned to the surroundings.

“Well...” I concede, “...there's no one in this car. I mean, section, or whatever it's called.” I look around some more. “Actually, I guess it's pretty long for one... I don't really see an end on either side.”

Suddenly, the saturation and fluorescence of the place started to set in again, slowly starting to overwhelm me. But I try to focus. Now, I could be crazy, but it feels like the speed is slowly ramping up. In fact, it feels like it has been for some time now. I start to breathe harder, and I briefly think about what an escape route might be. Would it be safe to try to escape out of a door? Especially going this fast?

The doors. I'm starting to frantically look around and I don't see any doors.

My muscles start to jerk me in each directions, wanting to get up, or move, or something. I wondered for a moment if my mom was in on this. What could she have done? I'm looking around, trying to hold it together. “Where's the doors?” I nearly choke out.

She holds out her hand and lays it on one of mine on my lap. There's that immense comfort feeling again. Amazing how moms can do that. I look at her. Now I feel like I truly am crazy, but not just for my perception of the train. How could I possibly have thought she did something that makes me feel so much... dread?

“Let's take it down slowly, okay, Sweetie?” she says softly, the way I forgot she used to. “Breathe.”

I breathe in slowly. I breathe out slowly.

“Can you describe yourself right now? How you look, maybe?”

I look down. I'm wearing...clothes? It's so strange, it's like it's nothing specific. How does that even work? “I'm...wearing...” I give up trying to find an alternative. “Clothes?” I say hopelessly. I feel like I don't even know who I am.

“What kind of clothes?”

“I...have...” I shrug. “Pockets?” My eyes are tearing up, in this liminal space between fear and frustration.

She puts her hands on both my shoulders, then rubs them for a moment, before sliding into a hug. “It's okay.” And the comforting feeling starts to set in again. “I love you, Kiddo.” She pulls back a bit, to look me in the face. “I needed to know how much you knew, but I still don't know how to say what you need to hear.”

I shake my head again, waiting for her to continue. “At first I thought you knew, but...”

“But, what?” I pressed.

Quietly, she said, “Honey... This train derailed three days ago...”

In utter shock, I just blurt out, “What?” I begin to blink rapidly. It feels like I know something that I'm not letting myself know. “What do you mean? That can't be right!” I know what she's trying to say, and yet I argue, “I mean, we're both right here!”

“I-I know. I know,” she interjects, trying to placate me. “But Honey, this train... Three days ago, you were taking this train to another city, on your way to visit a friend for the holidays...” She begins to speak a little slower. “...but it hit a patch of ice on a curve and slid off the tracks... A lot of people got hurt.” She added, “It wasn't a part of your regular commute to work.”

I stare at her blankly. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Honey... We haven't spoken in four years...”

“What? Has it been that long?!” I ask. Where on Earth did the time go? I feel dizzy. Is that how long I neglected to call or text? Where even is my phone? I shake my head. “I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with...” I trailed off. “Oh...” I choke out, my throat clenched so tight I don't think I can breathe. “You've been on this train before...” I am now looking right into her eyes as she nods slowly back.

“After I stopped breathing in the pool...” Her voice keeps getting more and more quiet. “But before the family decided to pull the plug...” We're both quiet. “You're in a very delicate place right now.” She slowly nods again, in a reassuring affirmation. “You will have to make a choice soon. But, Sweetheart,” she lifts her hand to my cheek, “not everyone gets that opportunity.”

“What is that choice?” I ask, not sure I want to know, and yet certain I already do.

“You can choose to get off of the train with me,” she pauses, “or you can wake up...” With tears in her eyes and a smile of deep empathy, she adds, “...but I won't be with you.”

In that moment, the train slams it's breaks, jarring my whole environment, as I'm completely overtaken by a familiar feeling, in fact, many familiar feelings, all of which I pushed away for a long, long time. I feel a deep sinking, and an energy in my gut that I can only liken to rage. I feel lost. I feel the unfairness. I feel hopeless. I feel useless. I feel scared, and lonely, and robbed of time. I feel deeply, deeply abandoned.

And I remember how much I missed her.

I remember feeling like I can't do this without her. No specific this. Just... this. I can't do this. Life had no direction without her, no guidance. It was so empty. There was just a massive, gaping black hole that sucked all the light in my life into it. A hole I couldn't fill with anything or anyone else. No matter how much I worked, no matter how much I played, no matter how much I loved... It was just not enough to fill that void.

“I don't think I can,” I'm gasping, hyperventilating. I want to scream. I almost do.

“I know it's not fair...”

“How do I know what I should do?” I desperately look for an answer in those compassionate eyes. It starts to dawn on me now that the time I lost with her, I may lose for my own self. My time. My dreams. All of my would-have, could-have, and should-have-beens. My boring everyday moments with people I both love and hate. All of the things I didn't finish, or even start. All the places I've never been on all the trains I always dreamed of taking but never boarded.

I'm flooded by the idea of missed future memories and photographic moments. It begins to sink into my stomach all of the time I already wasted, just trying to get by and not fall into the infinite pit created by her absence. All of the things I was going to be. And all of the things I can't even remember to remember. The absolute ending of my everything.

“Well,” she starts, “I don't know. Only you can decide that...”

I sob, “What did you do?”

This time all she could get out was a whisper, accompanied by a helpless shrug, “I got off the train.”

I'm hanging on her every word, but she pauses again, and again I quietly ask her, “What should I do to decide? How can I know?”

“Maybe you should just boil it down to one question?” Both of her hands are now holding both of mine as I wait for her to ask me.

"What question?"

“Did you do what you wanted to do?”