A Good Cup of Coffee

We’ll be arriving soon, shortly after seven. It is nearly half past six in the morning, the first I’ve seen this time of day since I got onto the train. I dare not leave my compartment now. Besides, it seems like Mrs. Finch has made up with her husband. All I have to do is sit back and breathe. I might even close my eyes. I have my notes to pass along, but I’ve decided to wait as long as possible to give them to the car attendant.

I suppose I do miss Mrs. Finch’s company. She was quite beautiful, although my futile attempts to help her reconcile with her husband were what got me stuck on this train that seemed like it would never arrive in the first place. I remember I awoke in my compartment to her crying, uncertain of how I had gotten there. I didn’t recall buying a ticket, although at the time this forgetfulness did not surprise me. The week in the Montreal office had been hectic. I had slept so little I was delirious when I finally made my way out of the office to head back to New York.

The trouble began when I asked Mrs. Finch what was wrong and she started in on the row she had with her husband a few compartments down.

“It’s just so silly. I know I have no reason to worry, and yet I persisted. And he took that quite poorly.” She pulled out a small compact from a slim red leather handbook.

“Oh goodness,” she said, “My hair is an absolute wreck. Would you just look at those fly aways!”

I couldn’t see any. Her hair was pulled back in a tight blonde coif with a single swoop of bangs angled severely across her forehead. Her lipstick, reapplied, was matte ruby red. I noticed the dark green wool A-line skirt she was wearing had hardly a wrinkle. I blushed a bit as my eyes lingered over where it neatly tucked into an impossibly small waist. The blouse she had on was billowy, the collar so high it came right up to her chin.

I suddenly became aware of my own condition as I felt dried drool crack across my cheek. Rustling around in my bag for my phone to give myself a once over, I couldn’t seem to find it.

“Damn.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Silly me,” she responded. “I shouldn’t be going on about flyways or husbands, at least not after you’ve just woken up.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” I responded.

I glanced in the reflection of the window to assess myself. My own usual coif, swept back tightly and slicked down with hairspray, was completely askew. I ran my fingers through to try and tame it. My wristwatch felt uncomfortably tight. I loosened it a bit. Doing my best to surreptitiously wipe off the drool caked on my cheek, I mentioned I couldn’t seem to fine my phone.

“Oh, don’t worry about that darling,” she said. “It will show up…here…” she said, offering her compact. I opened it to see a face that hardly seemed my own. Dark circles were hanging under my eyes. There was a mark on my cheek where I had been sleeping. My thick eyebrows, normally impeccably manicured, were a wild tangle. I glanced at my wristwatch, which read quarter past three in the morning. If the train was on schedule, we were due into New York in a little over four hours.

“Do you have any idea if we’re on time?” I asked her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know about that,” she demurred, tucking her compact back in her handbook. “Mr. Finch, he’s the one who keeps track of such things…”

I began to ask whether there was a car where I could find some coffee when she interrupted me.

“I just know we’ll sort things out,” she said.

“Mmm, I’m sure you will,” I responded, detached. I stood up from my seat.

“It’s just, I’m not so good at explaining myself. I get flustered… but if someone like you…” she paused, looking up at me. “…If someone like you could go talk to Mr. Finch…”

Something inside my chest prickled. I forgot my quest for coffee.

“Someone like me?” I asked her, perplexed. “Is there something I can do for you… Mrs…”

“Finch.”

“Yes, Mrs. Finch?”

“Well I can’t imagine it would take long,” she said. “But if you could pop over to our compartment, just two doors down on the right as you’re facing front, it would help me so greatly…”

“And what is it you’d like me to do?” I asked.

“Oh goodness, I trust you’ll know how to handle it! Just see if he’ll allow me back into our compartment. Not that I haven’t been comfortable here…” She giggled. “It’s just… you snore quite a bit.”

I blushed again and turned away as I pretended to be busy searching through my bag. “I’ve a few hours before I arrive,” I told myself. “It couldn’t hurt to help her out. I’m excellent at sales, after all…” A sort of electric thrill washed over me.

“I’d be delighted to help you,” I said. She let out a squeal and jumped up to hug me. Surprised at her abruptness, I gingerly patted my hand on her shoulder before leaning in and breathing in the curve of her figure against my chest.

“Oh thank you! I just know you’ll be able to talk some sense into him. I’ll wait and fix myself up a bit…” She had taken her compact back out. “These fly aways...”

I slid the door open to find myself in a corridor different than those on my usual train. There were antique light fixtures on the wall. The bulbs let out a soft glow quite unlike the usual harsh florescent lights. For a moment I forgot what I was meant to be doing. Just then, however, a car attendant stepped out of a compartment with a steaming cart of coffee and biscuits. The smell floated down to me and I breathed it in deeply. Coming around to my senses, I took note of which car was meant to be Mr. Finch’s and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came a commanding voice. I stepped into a sleeping car. Mr. Finch was rousing, pulling on a dark green velvet dressing gown and slipping into a pair of deep red slippers.

“Mr. Finch, I…” but before I could apologize for disturbing him, he waved me away.

“Ah yes. I thought you might be coming ‘round. One moment. I won’t be able to make out what you’re saying until I’ve had some coffee.” I felt a slight irritation rise in my chest as he pushed passed me to poke his head out of his compartment.

“I say,” he called out, “any fresh coffee?”

“Ah, Mr. Finch, of course,” came a muffled reply.

“And you?” Mr. Finch said, twisting around. “Anything?”

I nearly said yes before remembering I wasn’t in my own compartment. I didn’t want Mr. Finch to feel I was imposing on him. I would find the car attendant as soon as I was finished.

“Nothing for me,” I said, glancing around and nervously fiddling with the band of my wristwatch, which had grown increasingly uncomfortable. The compartment was as unfamiliar as the corridor to me.

“Now,” he said, sitting himself in a small alcove opposite me and resting his cup on the table. “How can I help you?”

“Oh! No, there’s been a misunderstanding,” I responded. “You see, I’ve been sent here by Mrs. Finch...” I realized I had not thought to get any details before I left my compartment.

“Ah Mrs. Finch. I suppose she’s sent you here to talk sense into me?”

“Well, yes. That’s exactly it…”

“Don’t bother,” he said curtly. “She’s off her rocker.”

His dismissiveness raised my defenses.

“Now really, isn’t there anything I can do?” I imagined myself in front of a board room of skeptical clients. “After all, we’ve a few more hours before we arrive,” I continued. “Plenty of time to sort things out.”

“A few hours you say?” he said, not appearing to hear me. “I dare say it will be a bit longer than that at this rate.” I wasn’t able to tell given the lighting, but I could have sworn he gave me a wink. Flustered, I persisted.

“Now really, Mr. Finch. I think you’re being unreasonable. After all, she just wants to talk…”

“…No, nothing to be done about that one,” he went on. “Though I appreciate your coming by. Now, I really must get more rest,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

I pushed back. “I’m just trying to help! You seem like a reasonable man...”

“Really, thank you. But I must insist you leave,” he said, standing up.

“And besides, there’s no use talking sense into that one…” He pushed me out into the corridor, and as he closed his compartment door I noticed the clock on his wall read just before three. Frustrated, I remembered I had yet to have coffee and that it was no use trying to go back to sleep with Mrs. Finch wallowing in my compartment.

--

All of that seems ages ago. I had no reason to be more attuned than I already was to the peculiarities of the train, but had I been, I would have better noticed the clocks. At the time, I just chalked it up to old batteries. It wasn’t until I saw my own watch behaving poorly—an old Rolex I took great pains to set with precision—I suspected something was off.

I couldn’t seem to drift off to sleep for the last half hour, so I contented myself by watching the minutes on my wristwatch tick by, a mundane activity I wouldn’t have previously thought twice about. I was still in desperate need of coffee, and I thought back to that waking hour when I missed every opportunity to get some.

As I collected myself after the debacle with Mr. Finch, I thought I could smell a faint hint of coffee coming from the other end of the corridor. I walked past my own compartment, resisting the urge to check on Mrs. Finch. I felt my heart rate slow against my wristwatch and coolness flush over my cheeks. Suddenly, a door slid open and the car attendant came out. He was an older gentleman with a shock of white hair under a dark green cap. I noticed his cheeks were flushed.

“Oh goodness! I’m sorry,” he gasped as if he had started me. “How can I help you?” .

“My goodness, sir. Are you alright?”

He smiled knowingly as he moved to straighten the red square of cloth in his vest pocket.

“Oh…thank you so much for asking. Hardly anyone ever does. Actually, I’m wondering if you might offer me a spot of help?”

The smell of the fresh coffee from the pot on his cart lingered in the air.

“Of course, it’s just…”

“Oh, it won’t take a minute,” he interrupted, opening another compartment and putting his cart inside. “Now then,” he said, “It’s my granddaughter. She’s on the overnight, coming back from a visit. And she’s locked herself in the closet. I thought maybe you could help me coax her out?” He looked at me hopefully. “She won’t listen to me, and you seem just the right person.”

After the utter failure with Mr. Finch, I thought this would be help set me straight. Afterwards I could have a nice cup of coffee and deliver the bad news to Mrs. Finch.

“Of course, not at all,” I said. “Now which one is she?”

“It’s this one right here,” he said, gesturing. “I’ve been trying to force the closet door open, but it won’t budge.”

“Ah yes. Now, what is her name?”

“Oh, it’s Emily. For the life of me I don’t know what… you know how it is with kids. They get these ideas and when you tell them no…”

I waved him off, pulling open the compartment door. I’d once sold popsicles made entirely of vegetables to a group of misbehaved children. Getting one out of a closet would be no problem. On the bed, unmade, was a large teddy bear with a bright red bow tied around its neck. In the corner I saw what looked to be a small door. I went over and knelt beside it.

“Emily,” I said softly. “Are you in there?”

I heard a sniffle.

“What do you want,” she said sullenly.

“Oh, I just thought you might like to come out. Your teddy bear seems lonely,” I offered.

“It’s not a teddy bear,” she said. “It’s a grizzly bear, and he’ll bite your head off if you’re not careful.

A tightness gripped my chest.

“Now Emily, that’s not very nice,” I said, trying to stay cool. It felt stuffy in the compartment.

“It’s not mean and it’s not nice. It just is!” she scowled. “If you don’t leave this instant, he’ll do it!”

I persisted.

“Aren’t you cramped in there? And isn’t it dark? That sounds scary.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You’re just trying to get me out. I’m fine. I can stretch my legs, and besides, I have a flashlight.” I heard a click and saw a light breaking through the crack underneath the door.

Exasperated, I sat back. I noticed the clock on the wall read just after two thirty. I blinked, thinking I must have misread it.

“I can HEAR YOU BREATHING OUT THERE,” Emily screamed. “I want you to LEAVE.”

Incensed, I grabbed the handle of the door and tried to pull it aside. It wouldn’t budge.

“You’ll never get it open,” she said, and though I could not see her, I could have sworn I heard her stick out her tongue.

It was now unbearably hot. I could hardly breath. My heart rate was so intense its pulsing against my wristwatch made it feel as if it would burn through my skin. I emerged from the cabin, face flushed and hair further askew.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” I panted. “She wouldn’t budge.” I suddenly realized how exhausted I was. Despite being overheated, I was still desperate for a cup of coffee.

“Not at all, I appreciate you trying,” the attendant said, turning away. I now felt if I didn’t get coffee soon, I might pass out right there in the middle of the corridor. I thought to inquire after him, but he seemed so distraught at my failure I didn’t want to bother.

“Perhaps it is best to return to my compartment and get some sleep,” I thought. My wristwatch told me it was now quarter to three.

I wasn’t far from my compartment when I remembered Mrs. Finch was likely still there. Hardly able to keep my eyes open I could only hope she had taken it upon herself to make up with her husband. My hand was on the door when I heard a compartment slide open towards the other end of the car. An old woman in a bright red nightgown stepped out. She looked uncertain of where she was. I felt a new energy move through me and I made my way down to see if I could help

“Excuse me, ma’am?” I offered quietly. She looked up at me, bewildered for a moment before something registered.

“Oh there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere!” she exclaimed.

“Excuse me?” I responded, bewildered.

“It’s just like you to leave your mother alone…” she said angrily. In a flash, however, her demeanor changed. She looked up at me with a tight smile. “Oh goodness, I shouldn’t say such things. I don’t want to be one of those mothers, you know…”

“I’m so sorry,” I responded gently. “I think you must have me confused...”

“It’s just so hard getting old, you know?” she continued. “It’s like you’re... invisible. But I shouldn’t be putting this on you. After all you have your big important job, and here you are taking time out of your busy schedule to come with me.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” I said again, my irritation rising. “But I think you must be confused. Do you want me to help you?” I then noticed she was staring intently at various parts of my body, looking me up and down.

“I must say, you look marvelous,” she said, pinching my waist and running her hands over my shoulders.

It was clear she was not going to accept any efforts to convince her I wasn’t traveling with her. “It can’t hurt to go along,” I told myself as I slid open her compartment door. Inside she had laid out an array of necklaces and earrings on the small vanity next to the bed.

“I’m just so glad you’re looking so marvelous,” she repeated. “Tommy’s wife Audrey, you know… she just can’t seem to keep off the weight.” She said this with tone that signaled grave concern, but I noticed there was a small smile creeping around the corners of her mouth.

“And I really shouldn’t say this…you know I want you to care more about your mind that your looks… but that Audrey. My goodness, when she is overweight, she’s can be… oh… you know…” a tinny laugh escaped her lips. “She can be a little bit of a bitch!”

I felt my gut drop.

“A mother should know better,” I said quietly to myself. I thought I might save the poor daughter-in-law from future indignities and use her perception of me to my advantage.

“Now…mother,” I said, placing a hand gently on hers. “I know you mean well, but you must understand. Saying things like that, it’s quite hurtful.”

“Oh and I don’t mean it, I suppose,” she replied. I wasn’t sure she heard me. “But it does make sense! Carrying around all of that extra weight, you’re more tired.” She laughed the same tinny laugh. “I suppose I’d be a little bit of a bitch, too!”

“But don’t you see?” I persisted. “…what you’re implying?”

“I just want Tommy to be happy,” she went on, cutting me off. “It’s hard to imagine he is with a wife like that, such a bitch carrying around all of that extra weight.”

I decided it might be time for something that might help her see what she was saying in a different light. I changed my voice so it conveyed a lighthearted curiosity.

“Hmm, that’s so interesting…mother. It sounds like what you’re saying is that people who are overweight are… what? Lazy? Mean? Bad?”

This seemed to register. She looked at me, her eyes twinkling.

“Why yes! I suppose you’re right. Yes, you’ve found it. And goodness, you know I would never actually say such a thing out loud, but it is what I feel inside, you know? I’m so glad we’re on the same page, my sweet one. I just knew you would understand.”

I sat there flabbergasted before being overtaken by a rage so intense I hardly had time to think about what I said next.

“So you’re… saying…” I said no longer trying to feign politeness. “You’re saying that if I, your ‘child’, were to gain a few pounds, that would make me… a bad person?

She looked mildly taken a back, but didn’t meet my anger. “Oh goodness, darling. I think you’re being a bit dramatic. After all it’s not like that’s anything for you to worry about! Just look at you!” She gave looked at me approvingly before turning to face the mirror.

“My goodness, look at me. I need to get my rollers in before we arrive in the morning. We’re headed straight for tea with the Cunninghams. Though I told them not to expect a beauty pageant after an overnight train ride!”

Defeated, I gathered myself to leave. But I couldn’t resist offering a parting blow. “Perhaps some good will come of it, at least for her poor daughter in-law’s sake,” I thought again.

“You know,” I said, drawing back the door. “You’re quite a hypocrite.” She looked up at me amused, but said nothing. I continued. “You can’t tell someone you want them to care more about their mind than their looks in one breath and make assumptions about someone’s character in the next simply because they are heavier.”

“I’m just so glad you’re looking so trim these days,” she said, waving me away. “Wake me before we arrive. I need time to get my rollers out of my hair and my makeup on.” She had begun taking hair and rolling it around a set of pink Velcro rollers, gazing admirably at her reflection.

“Disgusting,” I said under my breath, and slammed the door shut. The wave of exhaustion that had swept over me previously returned, and I was determined to either find myself a strong cup of coffee or return to my compartment whether or not Mrs. Finch was still there.

I could still feel my heart pulsing intensely. It was as if my blood was threatening to burst through my wrists. My wristwatch had become unbearably tight. As I reached down to loosen it, I noticed it read just before two in the morning.

“That can’t be right,” I thought, shaking my head. I readjusted my watch and made my way back to my compartment.

--

Looking back on it, I’m quite embarrassed at how long it took me to figure out what was happening. I returned to my compartment after the encounter with the old woman to find it empty. “Good,” I said to myself. I had nearly sunk into a deep sleep when a thought crossed my mind.

“We should be there by now.”

It was hard to tell with my wristwatch acting up and none of the clocks on the train in any kind of working order. But I was certain at least a few hours had passed.

I resolved to get to the bottom of why we hadn’t arrived. The compartment clock now read just after one thirty in the morning. My wristwatch read the same. Stepping back into the corridor, it felt unbearably tight. I loosened it from around my wrist and tucked it into the breast pocket of my jacket, where I could feel my heart beating against it.

Almost as if on cue, a compartment door slid open and the car attendant stepped out, pushing the same steaming tray of hot coffee and biscuits. Determined to get an answer as to why we had not yet arrived, I waved him off when he offered me some.

“Oh!” he responded. “When will be arrive?”

“Yes,” I said brusquely.

“Goodness, I haven’t checked with the conductor in a while. I suspect it won’t be long.” Again, it was difficult to tell with the lighting, but I could swear he gave me a wink just like Mr. Finch. “Though,” he added, “it all depends on you, I suppose.”

Taken a back, I asked him to repeat himself.

“Oh dear, you don’t know? My, you’re not as clever as we thought you were!”

Shaking his head and smiling, he turned the other direction.

“Now hang on!” I shouted after him. “What do you mean…?”

--

I suppose that was really the moment I began to realize just what was happening. As I followed the car attendant down the corridor, I noticed the clock at the end of it read just before one. Flustered, I pulled my own watch out of my breast pocket, which had been reverberating against my rapidly beating heart. It read the same. I was overtaken by an urge to check all of the clocks in the train, and I began to fling compartment doors open much to the ire of the sleeping passengers.

One in the morning. One in the morning. One in the morning.

“That’s not possible,” I told myself.

I caught up with the car attendant. “What…”I gasped, out of breath. “What is going on?” My heart now felt like it might literally burst out of my chest. But in that moment, I realized it was not my heart that was beating with such agitation, but my wristwatch. I pulled it out. As I did I saw the minute hand tick back 15 minutes.

“What… are you doing to me?” I begged.

He smiled calmly

“Me? I assure you nothing at all, if that’s what you’re asking. “Now,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It might be best for you to retire.”

I was apoplectic.

“I will not until I get answers.” Had I cared to pay attention, I would have seen the minute hand tick back another fifteen minutes on my wristwatch. “I demand to speak to the conductor,” I shouted, roaring into his face.

“Of course,” he said sweetly . “But I don’t think it will do any good.”

“Oh? And who are you to judge? You’re just a car attendant. Running around serving coffee and biscuits and getting granddaughters stuck in closets.”

“She’s out, by the way,” the attendant said with a sad smile, a far off look in his eyes. “Just needed a few minutes to sort herself out. Her parents are separated, you see. It’s been hard.”

I suddenly became flushed with shame.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” I responded, stepping back to create a little space.

I noticed he had tears in his eyes, and I reached out to offer him a handkerchief.

“I don’t suppose you have a few minutes to chat? It’s been so difficult on me, seeing Emily torn up like this…”

He trailed off for a moment, and as he did my fatigue set back in.

“Sir, I am so sorry for your troubles. But I am quite tired…exhausted, frankly… and I think it’s best I go back to my compartment for some sleep until we arrive…whenever that is.” I had momentarily forgotten I was there to try and address this very concern. Just then, however, it must have seemed less important than sinking back into the plush chairs in my compartment.

“Of course,” he said, brightening up. I gave his shoulder a squeeze and turned around to make my way back to my compartment. I cautiously peeled back the door. It was still dark and empty. Sighing deeply, I collapsed into a dreamless sleep, but not before noticing the clock on the wall had ticked to half past one in the morning.

--

Like I said, I suspect we’ll be arriving soon, and even though I am in desperate need of a good cup of coffee, I’m now seeing quarter to seven in the morning for the first time since getting on the train. By the time I finally realized what was to be done to ensure my arrival, I had more or less lost all sense of how long I had been on board even though my wristwatch would have me believe it had only been since the night before. Nevertheless, there would now certainly be no arrival later than necessary.

To be doubly certain, I had prepared a small set of notes to demonstrate how I finally grasped it all. It was the one thing for which I told myself I could leave my compartment. But I wouldn’t do it until we were pulling into Penn Station. I had to be certain of our arrival before I shared them with the attendant. I thought it would make the most sense to pass them along just as we entered the tunnel. From there it was only ten minutes to the station. I needed to give myself enough time to explain the notes, but not too much time so as to delay our arrival.

Now, you might be thinking: have I not learned my lesson? After all, I have been stuck on this miserable train far longer than anticipated through every fault of my own. But I assure you, I have thought this through accordingly. And if I understand correctly, as I believe I do, there is no harm in being extra certain we will arrive. Of all of the things I had tried to address or fix that were outside of my control since I awoke on the train, I could see no reason why this wasn’t a perfectly reasonable thing to do for my own peace of mind.

Suddenly, the lights of the city vanished around me. I gathered my things, the notes clutched in my hand. I found the corridor mercifully empty. I made my way to the attendant’s compartment where he was brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

I gave a soft knock on the door. A cheerful voice told me to enter.

“Good morning!” I said brightly.

“Ah yes! How can I help you?” the attendant asked, making up his own cup with a bit of cream and sugar.

The hand holding the notes became unusually sweaty. I feared the dampness might smudge my writing.

“Actually,” I said. “I’m wondering if I might join you for a cup of coffee before we arrive?

“I’d be delighted,” he responded, pulling a clean mug from a cabinet.

I brought the cup up to my lips and breathed in the smell, momentarily forgetting the notes clutched in my other hand. Overtaken by the aroma and the thrill of arriving, I sat down and unfolded my notes, my pulse thumping ever so slightly against the watch on my wrist.