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Creative Writing | Train…


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I left work early hoping that I would have enough time to catch the train up to Syracuse to see my parents. I have been dreading this day for weeks. They expected their perfect, Princeton graduate daughter, to continue living in a “perfect” Princeton princess world. I dread this conversation we are going to have, and I know we are going to have it.

I’ve only 5 minutes left to catch this train and it’s the only one leaving tonight. I know my mom is deliberately upset because I turned off my cell phone in the course of the journey. I detest cellphones.  They interrupt your peace of mind, your life, and on days like this they interrupt your tragedy.

“Excuse mam? You dropped something. Oh are you expecting a….” The stranger quickly looked me up and down with a smile. I never liked it when strangers were too friendly. I rolled my eyes and responded, “I don’t know. Thank you. Mind your business please.”

The stranger’s smile quickly faded. I had offended him. “Well excuse me, I was just trying to help. Can you carry those bags in your condition?” I always cringed whenever someone brought up the word “my condition.”

“I’ve been carrying more than my share of weight since I was 15. So please move. I have a train to catch and only a few moments left.”

That was a close call. My secrets have become my best friends. I definitely don’t want any stranger knowing anything about me, I’m even ashamed to tell the people that I love. There is only one last window left and one last chance to go tell my parents the tragic truth…It doesn’t matter whether I want to come clean or not, but it is the only way to play this out right where only a few people get hurt.

I glanced around the train station and noticed it wasn’t too crowded. All I wanted to do was walk up to the counter and get my ticket. I couldn’t stand being in here anymore.  “Hi, excuse me. I need a ticket so Syracuse, the next train leaves in 10 minutes.” The lady behind the counter was surely a woman of a certain age. She probably had a long day, but my day was surely longer and more tragic than hers.

“I’m sorry mam, I’m closed.” The woman smacked her gum and looked at her watch.

“Listen, I know I’m running late but I really need to get on that train.”

“Listen sweetie, I’ve had a long day, my feet hurt, I almost got fired, and I’m not in the mood to deal with some yuppie like you.”

Wow, was this woman serious? I wasn’t in the mood to start name-calling, but she was pushing my buttons. I hate being called a yuppie, especially by a stranger. “You don’t know anything about me, but you assume I’m a yuppie.”

“Let’s see. You got a cold latte in your hand, Gucci band, Louis Vuitton heels, dry clean trench coat, a silk scarf, and blue eyes with an attitude. Yup, you’re a yuppie. Sorry, can’t help ya!” She began shutting down her computer and glanced at her watch again. She was ready to go.

I had to speak up for myself. “You don’t want to go there. I could pick you apart in one sentence, trust me, I do it for a living. You’re an angry old woman with barely a GED, 8 kids, no husband, bad attitude, and you think you’re retirement is going to carry you through the rest of your life. I write advertisements for medicine to keep women like you in place.”

“Oh really?” She rolled her eyes. “Looks like you ain’t going to be getting on that train, I’ve got some meds to take.”

Man, I pushed it too far. I hate apologizing, but I can’t miss that train. “Look mam, I’m sorry okay. I really need to get on that train! My life depends on it.”

She leaned in closer to the window and her eyes got wide as they drifted to the floor beneath my feet.

“ I think you’re bleeding…”

I didn’t have time for her tactics to get me out of the station. I needed a ticket, so I wasn’t moving. Yet, as her eyes got even wider, the words began swirling around my head. All I heard was noise…train pulling up to the station…and I could hear myself screaming a silent whisper.

She spoke up again, “The floor is getting soaked with blood. Are you okay?!!!”

All I could do was stand there as my face became wet with tears and my legs became soaked with blood. I didn’t want to have this child, but I also don’t want anything living in me to die.

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