The Lost Rail

No one was ever glad to greet Elaine Barrett at their doorstep. This was merely a fact of life, as unassailable as trigonometry or the elliptical orbit of Pluto. And although she spent most of her days visiting strangers' homes, Elaine was unperturbed by this reality. Exchanging pleasantries wasn't even one of the 'nice to have' skills on an insurance claims adjuster's job description, and warm greetings certainly weren't one of the perks.

Elaine would be the first to admit that it wasn't exactly her life's passion to protect the nine-figure salaries of her company's slimeball executives by quashing the settlements of their own paying customers. But as far as she was concerned, the people who trumpet the idea that work should be about passion were the same people who curate their social media with #FitLife selfies after pounding a sheet of box brownies for dinner. Passion was a phony's favorite word.

Elaine had shared that observation with her friend Katie the last time they'd brunched together, way back in October.

"Yikes. What's with you? You're as tightly wound as those curls on your head these days, Lainey," her old college roommate had tugged playfully at her hair.

"Why? Because I call it how I see it?" Elaine had huffed into her bellini.

"You just seem different," Katie's brow-knitted gaze had pierced her from across the table, "Are you still reeling from everything? You can talk to me, you know."

Elaine had changed the subject, and that had been the end of that conversation.

Katie's reproach didn't phase Elaine. Not really. Sure, she thought about it for days afterward, but eventually it rolled off her back like the logs from that lumber truck on I-95 (that incident wasn't in Elaine's department, but it had been a favorable settlement for the claimants).

Katie was right, she decided. Maybe she had changed. It didn't happen overnight—most changes didn't—but it had happened, and maybe Elaine should be grateful for it. She wasn't as soft as she used to be. She'd evolved. She may be tightly wound, but she had a tough outer shell and a realistic worldview to go with it. Good luck trying to disappoint an armored realist.

Although, it happened to be unfortunate for Elaine that this shell was a metaphor. An actual, physical chitin shield would have helped protect her brittle, human body on this ill-fated Tuesday in June.

Elaine was about to knock on her second door of the day when her phone buzzed. She fished it out of her purse, thinking it might be about work, but it was just a text from Katie:

Dinner soon? I miss youuu

Irritated by the interruption, Elaine shoved her phone back in her purse and, as she did so, noticed several wasps swarming a hive in the corner of the porch. One of them was dive-bombing directly towards her. She jumped back to evade it, but her foot found no place to land. She stumbled backwards down the stranger's front steps, landing on her back with a thud.

~*~

"TICKETS!"

The shout pierced Elaine's consciousness and she snapped awake, wiping drool from her gummy, slackened jaw.

"HAVE YOUR TICKETS READY!"

Elaine blinked through a distorted field of vision that was slow to settle, like she'd just emerged from a dark movie theater into broad daylight. Her body was jostling to a steady rhythm along with her surroundings, which were, in a word, filthy.

"What the..."

It appeared she was in a train compartment, one of those old-timey British ones with velvet seats and cherry wood paneling. And heaps upon heaps of junk. Mostly clothing, and mostly mismatched socks, were piled everywhere. On the seats, on the floor, in her lap. Had a Goodwill donation bin vomited all over her while she slept?

There were several sets of unalike keys strewn about the cabin as well, and stacks of luggage crammed into the baggage rails amongst other oddities: a dripping wet GoPro camera, a tennis racket, and at least half a dozen USB cables dangling over the sides.

Groggily, Elaine shifted in her seat to retrieve the object that was stabbing her in the rear. A TV remote with well-worn buttons, but there was no TV in sight. Given that the cabin was straight out of an episode of Hoarders, however, that it wasn't 'in sight' wasn't definitive proof of its absence.

A man who looked to be her age—late thirties, maybe younger—tapped on the other side of the glass. He opened the door to her compartment as far as it would go before it jammed up against a sturdy pile of clutter, and poked his head in.

"Well, well, look what I found! You have a ticket for me, honey?"

The stranger grinned in a flash of twin dimples. He wore a gold-trimmed uniform and a porter's cap with a wide, flat bill. The word 'conductor' was embroidered onto its front, and it was tilted slightly askew over his tightly braided cornrows.

"I... ticket? I'm not even sure how I got here," Elaine grimaced and plucked an argyle sock off her shoulder.

"Well it's a good thing I didn't ask how you got here, baby. I asked for your ticket," the conductor reached his hand through the gap in the door and wiggled his fingers expectantly.

Elaine stood up, knee-deep in someone else's laundry, and rooted in her pockets. When they came up empty, she shrugged, "I guess I lost it?"

"Lost it, you say!" The conductor waggled his dark eyebrows conspiratorially, "Well then it's definitely here."

Elaine snorted, "Oh, yeah? How do you figure?"

"You're riding the Lost Rail, sugar. This is where lost things go," the conductor gestured to the contents of the train compartment, which all at once made a lot more sense and no sense at all. Elaine tried to pull up the window shutter to get her bearings, but it wouldn't budge. Fine. She'd bite.

"The Lost Rail?"

"Right?! It's such a misnomer. I keep trying to tell Bill, our Engineer—you probably won't meet him, he stays holed up in the cab like a little hermit crab—'The Lost Rail' makes it sound like the train is lost. But the train is right where it should be. Everything inside of it, except me of course, is what's lost. Erego... you," his eyes gave Elaine an up-down that made her bristle, "must be lost, girl."

"Uh-huh. Listen—What's your name?"

"You can call me Kevin," the conductor cocked his head and extended his arm into the compartment. Not for a proper handshake, but the way someone might if they were expecting their hand to be kissed.

Elaine shoved her own hands into the pockets of her navy blue slacks, "Cool. Kevin, I'd like to get off this train. Now. I have an appointment in Coconut Grove I'm supposed to be at..." She trailed off. Hadn't she just been in Coconut Grove? "Where is the next stop?"

Kevin giggled, "Oh. We don't stop, Elaine Barrett. To get off this train, you've got to be found."

Elaine thought she saw something silver shimmer in the air between them. Must have been dust motes.

"How do you know my name? I didn't tell you. Am I like, a missing person? Am I on the news?"

"Drama! No baby, you're not a missing person. Missing people are almost never lost. Usually they ran away and know exactly where they are. Sometimes they've been kidnapped, or, well, murdered. Super tragic. But they're not unfound, you dig?"

A thought occurred to her, and she stiffened, "So I'm not dead?"

"Nope."

"Hm," Elaine grunted a skeptical sound, "Then how do I get... found?"

"It helps to know how you lost yourself in the first place," Kevin made a grabby hand in her direction, "Yay! I think I feel some sleuthing coming on. Forget that ticket. Come with me, sugar."

What choice did she have? Dumbfounded, Elaine let Kevin haul her over the compartment's haphazard paraphernalia and into the blessedly uncluttered hallway, where he slipped her chin into his grip and inspected her face.

"Drink? Gamble? Drugs?" Each word came in rapid fire succession.

"What? Um, no. I like a couple of glasses of wine now and again, but I'm not an addict."

"Didn't think so. Codependent? Grieving? Workaholic?"

Elaine jerked her chin out of his grasp, "No!"

Kevin smirked, "Touchy, touchy. Alright then, we'll have to do this the hard way. A person doesn't end up lost if they haven't lost a few things along the way, first. Let's go."

With twinkling eyes, Kevin grabbed Elaine's hand and led her through the train car's narrow hallway to the ornate door at the far end. "Watch your step, and whatever you do, don't let go of my hand."

He opened the door to the gangway. Elaine was expecting it to unleash a violent torrent of wind, or maybe the mechanical roar of the train hurtling on its tracks. But instead, Elaine was greeted by the purest nothingness she could imagine. Beyond where they stepped out onto the transition was a silent, airless vacuum that made her spine tingle. This time she happily obeyed Kevin's command, clinging to his hand like it was her last grip on reality as she ducked her head into the next car to escape the uncomfortable void.

But stepping into the next car was an even more dramatic assault on the senses. An unrelenting cacophony of what must have been hundreds of whispering voices, all saying different things, assailed Elaine's ears. This carriage didn't have separate compartments like its neighbor. Rather, it was a single large space that hosted toy trains of all colors and sizes, zipping along gravity-defying tracks: on the floor, up the walls and ceiling, suspended in midair at all angles. It looked like a 1980's Hasbro commercial shoved into a kaleidoscope, and sounded like hell. Somehow the trains never crossed paths, but they were so densely clustered that Kevin and Elaine had to duck, bob and weave their way through to the opposite side of the carriage.

It wasn't until they arrived in the subsequent car that Kevin released Elaine's hand. Elaine, wild-eyed, turned on him.

"What was that?"

Kevin snickered, "Guess."

"Are you kidding me?" Elaine's arms flung around like the ruffled wings of a flustered bird.

Kevin sucked his teeth, "You're no fun. Those were Lost Trains of Thought! Get it?" He squealed with delight, "I love that car. It's so meta."

After a stunned moment, Elaine threw her head back and cackled. Maybe it was hysteria, maybe she was high on a noxious gas that permeated the mysterious void between carriages, but by the time she was finished, her eyes watered and her breath was thin from laughing harder than she had in a long time.

"Someone's in a good mood," Kevin teased, "In a minute I'm going to need you to remember that you're happy, OK?"

That comment grounded her a bit. Elaine pushed a frizz of curls out of her eyes and took in her surroundings. This carriage contained a retro filing room that was architected like a surrealist painting. The carpet was the only pop of color, patterned with orange and brown hexagons against a backdrop of beige. Stacks of gray metal filing cabinets lined every inch of wall and ceiling, except for one square cut-out that hosted a wall-mounted rotary phone.

Kevin walked over to the phone and lifted the handset off of the receiver, "Elaine Barrett?"

"What?" Elaine replied.

Kevin gestured at her to be quiet and jabbed his pointer finger at the phone. Although Elaine was sure she hadn't seen him dial any numbers, after a long pause he chirped, "Thank you," and hung up.

Just as he did so, several of the cabinet drawers flew open. Elaine ducked just before the one directly above her head would have made contact. Each drawer spit out dozens of sheets of paper, then slammed themselves shut. The pages floated ominously to the ground.

"What is this, Kevin? Why do I have to remember I was happy?"

"This is the Lost Court Cases car, honey. Your name comes up a lot here," he gave her an appraising look.

"It's part of my job."

"Oh, goodie. So lawyer, not criminal?"

"Um, not exactly..."

Kevin swiped up one of the sheets of paper and scanned it with darting eyes. "Boca Raton condo... Hmm... Mold damage, uh-huh... Arson? What is this?"

"Oh, that was a fun one. Some residents tried to burn their building down after my company rejected their insurance claim to cover the costs of black mold remediation. I testified for the prosecutor to help them prove motive, and—"

"Say no more. You're in insurance! So like, do you love it?" Kevin's voice went up a couple of octaves, and he began blinking unnaturally fast.

Elaine's lips thinned, "No one actually loves their job."

"Mmmhm. Now we're cooking. So maybe you lost yourself to your job! Do you work like, crazy long hours?"

"Just a normal nine-to-five, most days."

"Do you have to pretend to be someone you're not?" Kevin pressed.

"Maybe... I don't know. I have to deal with a lot of unhappy people."

"Mmmhm. And that makes you unhappy?"

"Not really," Elaine folded her arms across her chest.

"Elaine, this won't work if you're not honest with me."

"Fine. It's not exactly the sunshine of my day when someone's cussing me out because their home insurance policy doesn't cover termite damage."

"Mmmhm."

"So is this it? I admit I have a sucky job, and what? I'm found now?"

Kevin looked up, so Elaine looked up, although she wasn't sure what they were looking for. When nothing happened, Kevin turned to Elaine and shrugged. "Guess not. What else will I discover in all this legalize, sugar?"

Kevin wasted no time collecting the sheets of paper into a pile, leafing through them and making judgy titters as he went, until something stopped him in his tracks.

"Mmmhm. Here's something interesting. A divorce settlement?"

Elaine tripped over herself to snatch the paper out of his hands.

"So you were married. When did you get divorced, Elaine?"

"Three years ago now?" Elaine's inflection was a question. She compulsively began folding the paper into a tiny square.

"Why are you asking me, girl? Husband? Wife? Did they cheat? Did you cheat?"

"Husband. Shane. And no, there was no infidelity..." When the sheet would no longer fold, Elaine pinched at its corners and flicked it across the room like a little paper football, "We just kind of grew apart."

"Shane and Elaine. That's kind of cute. Who left who?"

"It was mutual."

"Oh no. Baby, when someone says 'it was mutual,' they're the one who was dumped. What went wrong? Do you miss him?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Not anymore," Elaine reached out a hand as though steadying herself. She took a breath. "I don't miss him. I miss..." Her voice cracked.

Me. I miss me. The thought arrived unbidden. Elaine buried her face in her hands, sinking down to the floor. This is what her outer shell was for. But Kevin, damn him, was disarming. Maybe it was the dimples, or that weird silver shimmer she kept catching in her periphery when he spoke, but for some reason she was having a hard time summoning her inner turtle, or horseshoe crab, or whatever exoskeleton-clad creature inspired her will to be walled off from the world. She was slug-soft.

Kevin sat down beside her and rubbed her back in sincere, gentle strokes. "Take your time, honey. You probably already missed that appointment in Coconut Grove, anyway."

Elaine snorted a half-laugh, half-sob. Finally, she spoke.

"We were trying to have a baby. We tried so many different fertility treatments. Eight cycles of IVF. Got pregnant twice. Never reached the second trimester either time. The process itself was like, I don't know, a third person in our relationship. It just made everything so heavy, and I thought it would all be worth it if we got our happy ending. But we tried so hard, and we failed... I failed, and eventually I... Yeah. I just wanted to stop trying."

"Stop trying to get pregnant?"

"Stop trying everything, I guess."

"I'm so sorry, Elaine," Kevin chewed his lip, considering something, and then sprang to his feet like a fully-cranked jack-in-the-box, "Light bulb moment! I know what we need. Car 2A-217. We'll have to take the roof to get past Lost Marbles. You can't open the door without unleashing an avalanche of tiny glass balls onto the tracks, which makes Bill a very grumpy boy. And we might as well skip over Lost Virginity while we're up there. That car usually makes Americans pretty uncomfortable. Are you ready, Elaine?"

~*~

Car 2A-217 was unlike anything Elaine had ever seen. It was an intimate, rectangular garden, with walls covered in flowering ivy that slithered actively against a rustic wooden trellis. The ceiling of the car gave way to the illusion of a star-studded night sky, wispy clouds floating slowly by at an impossible distance. But there was something more to the space than met the eye, something intangible, like the balmy feeling of possibility. It made the bone-chilling journey through the vacant void actually seem worth it.

In the center of the garden, a solitary stone bench sat before a bright cerulean bird bath filigreed with gold celestial patterns. Its form was so delicate that it could've been made from spun sugar, like any moment it might just melt away. In its basin was a perfectly still liquid with a shimmering, octarine hue.

"Where are we now?" Elaine asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

"This is the car of Lost Hopes and Dreams, love."

Kevin took a seat on the stone bench and patted the empty spot beside him. Elaine obliged, and even surprised herself when she tilted her head to rest upon Kevin's shoulder.

"Back in the Court car it sounded like... I thought you were taking me to 'Lost Pregnancies' or something."

"Oh, sweetie," Kevin squeezed Elaine's hand. "We don't have a car for that here. I imagine unborn babies join the other departed souls, maybe on some other train, but not this one."

Elaine fell silent, and although normally she would sooner choke on the tears that were stinging her eyes, this time she let them fall. Kevin held her hand, patient and unyielding, until she didn't think she could cry anymore. Eventually she sat upright, savoring the warm kiss of the car's inexplicable breeze on her damp cheeks.

"Why did you bring me to Lost Hopes and Dreams?" She asked.

"You said you stopped trying. Isn't it obvious? Hopes and dreams are the reason we try, honey. When's the last time you wanted anything? Like, a deep want? Not a food craving, or retail therapy, but wanted something with your whole soul?"

Perhaps because it was fresh on her mind, Elaine knew the answer instantly, "I mean, not since Shane and I were trying to conceive. I wanted to be a mother more than anything. It broke me so completely when it didn't work. Something in me started to close up," Elaine closed her fist around the open air. "He pushed for adoption, in the later stages. We even took some steps towards becoming foster parents, but I couldn't go through with it. I think, after all that time, I started questioning whether I deserved any of it. Then, when our marriage started to crumble, I didn't really want to fight for us. I think you're right. I think I must have stopped letting myself want anything."

Kevin stroked Elaine's hair, "You deserve everything good and more. Don't you let yourself forget that," he gestured to the basin before them, "Do you think you're ready to reclaim your passion for life, Elaine?"

Elaine stiffened. There it was. That word. Passion. Why was it so triggering to her?

"Our judgiest thoughts are really our most uncomfortable truths in an ugly outfit," Kevin said pointedly. Elaine didn't question how Kevin had come to read her mind. Anything seemed possible on this bizarre train, in this magical sliver of garden.

Passion had become this foreign, coveted thing. It didn't belong to her, so maybe she wanted to write it out of existence, expose it as a farce. Maybe in doing so, she was denying herself the opportunity to remember what it felt like to actually feel passion for something, anything. Maybe she really had lost all of her hopes and dreams.

And maybe it was time to find them again.

She lifted herself from the bench and stared into the shimmering pool. The surface of the liquid was purple and silver, glass-like. At first it only reflected Elaine's face back at her, but gradually new shapes began forming over her reflection. As they formed they grew in dimension, until the basin was projecting detailed, ever-shifting holograms upon its surface.

The tiny vignettes showed Elaine snippets of things she once yearned for. More than showing them, though, she suspected its magic brought the feelings back, too. It played a scene of her and Shane setting up a nursery, and her heart leapt for it. It showed them starting an animal rescue on his grandparents' farm in Ocala. Then, she was fresh out of college with a degree in English Literature (in reality, she'd gone the sensible route and studied business), opening that book cafe she used to decorate in her head as she was falling asleep.

Some of the dreams that the pool shared with her really had come to pass. Shane putting on an Otis Redding record, pouring a glass of wine while she made guacamole. Her and Katie's first 'grown up' apartment. Celebrating the news of her mom's breast cancer remission.

Some of the dreams were from so long ago, she'd forgotten how pressing they once were, but as the pool revealed them to her, she was suffused with a childlike yearning. How badly she'd once wanted her driver's license, to finally taste that new kind of freedom. The anxious urge to make new friends on the first day of school. Losing her baby teeth, and the giddy anticipation when she put them under her pillow and wondered if she might finally catch a glimpse of the tooth fairy. Elaine laughed out loud when the basin showed her the innocent whims of a toddler; she had desperately wanted to hug a panda, to feel the stroke of its soft fur against her cheek.

After the final vignette settled, the feelings drifted away and left her hollow, like the last day of vacation, or the final chapter of a favorite book. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared into the pool's flat surface.

Kevin put his hand on her shoulder, "See? Passion isn't a buzzword. It's your joie de vivre. It's your will to live—not just exist, but really live. All those hopes and dreams make you excited to wake up each morning. And honey, they want to find you again, but just like everyone else, they can't get through that hard shell of yours."

Elaine felt resistance rising up in the clench of her teeth, in the scrape of fingernails against her palms, "I get that. I do. But not a single one of those dreams feel like me anymore, Kevin."

"Well speak for yourself then girl, because I would just die to hug a panda. Pandas never get lost, though. We do end up with opossums, from time to time..."

Elaine exhaled a sad imitation of a laugh. Kevin tugged at her wrists and oriented her to face him, his eyes imploring her to listen, "Hey. Being found doesn't mean going backwards. Sometimes you lose things to make space, so that when you find yourself again, you get to find something brand new. It doesn't happen all at once. You can take it one new experience at a time. You'll get into your groove."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because, only socks stay on this train forever. Sooner or later, no matter how much I'll miss them," he winked, "people on The Lost Rail always disembark."

As if on cue, the train lurched violently. Elaine stumbled and grabbed onto Kevin's arm.

"Yee-hoo! It's happening!"

"Now? I don't think I'm ready. I don't know what to make of any of this," Elaine protested, fighting against the rapidly onsetting sensation of floating in zero gravity.

"Sure you do, baby. If you didn't then you wouldn't be leaving. Just do me one favor—Get out there and try something new, shake up that rut. You got this, Elaine. Muah, muah, loves you!"

The image of the brightly-clad conductor, the ivy-laden garden and the illusory night sky distorted into a swirling galaxy of color and light. Kevin's voice began to fade, and the light began to dim, until everything was once again as black and silent as the void.

~*~

Elaine knocked once, twice, thrice on the front door of a contemporary stucco house in Biscayne Park. It flung open almost immediately, and Katie stood on the other side of the threshold, grinning like crazy.

"Eee! I'm so happy you're finally joining us. You're going to love it. They're going to love you," Katie flung her arms around Elaine and squeezed. Elaine winced, and Katie lurched back. "Oh crap, sorry. I forgot—the fall."

Elaine laughed, "All good. Physical therapy has been a gift from the gods, I swear. I'm back to like, ninety-percent. It's helped me so much, I think I want to pay it forward? My PT gave me a list of schools in the area," Elaine shrugged.

"What? That's amazing. The patient becomes the healer. Like it was your destiny all along," Katie arced her hand in the air dreamily, "Love that for you. Oh, that reminds me. We're starting a new book today. It's all science-y woo healing stuff, so that's perfect, right? Don't worry that you haven't gotten it yet. Book club is mostly just an excuse for us to all get together once a month and drink fancy herbal teas."

"Sounds divine," Elaine grinned. She adjusted the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder and turned towards the living room, but Katie stopped her in the foyer.

"Hey, Elaine? I just want you to know, I'm really happy to see you happy. I thought we lost you there, for a minute."

"Couldn't stay lost with friends like you," Elaine poked Katie's shoulder. "Seriously. Thanks for giving me something to look forward to, today. I didn't realize how much I've missed that."

"I know, I know. But I did. That's why I've been asking you to join for months," she snickered. "Now go on, get in there."

In that moment, standing at the cusp of something new, Elaine felt a familiar warmth brush against her cheek. The balmy kiss of possibility. She didn't know what wisdom this new book might contain, or who she might meet in the next room, or whether anything would come of that list of schools...

But she wanted to find out. And that was something.