Missed The Last Train
Great.
I look to see the train, my train, head off. A horse ridden by a new jockey, I must be too old to get home on time. The train station is surprisingly quiet and unsurprisingly eerie. Yano, those moments in amongst large crowds where it just goes silent? "Oh, it just got really quiet" Everyone awkwardly laughs whilst their body relaxes after briefly entering the high alert no farting zone. Well, picture that but lasting several hours.
The rain is beginning to trickle over the bus stop I fled to, and I am starting to let go of my need for dry feet. A conveyor belt of apathy, my feet the starting point as my whole body gets scanned through by the embodiment of apathy themselves- the sales assistant. Truthfully, I had forgotten what it was like to be cold. I remember even seeing homeless men on the street on the way to my train and thinking, "I tell you what, they look cosy. All snuggled in".
"You, okay, bud?"
One day I will get a fright and pish myself.
"Aye, am fine mate"
"It is just your feet are getting soaked"
He wasn't wrong. However, his perplexion faded as my sorrowful face leaned forward to hug the street light. It is so satisfying when words are no longer required. He moved on, wandering away in his dark blue parka until he meshed with the sky and the silence returned.
Thankfully, the next visit I seen coming. From afar, drunk people resemble the polystyrene bag dancing through the air in that scene in American Beauty. If only my phone was charged, I'd get that Thomas Newman score up and cover my fear in comedy. His unconscious elegance juxtaposed with two ruler walkers coming from behind. The silence is only broken up by the continual sounds of the drunken man's feet slapping the ground as he overcompensates his belief that he, in fact, can walk. The two men behind him look menacing. What am I about to see? Why couldn't I have gotten my fucking train! Before the smell of vodka and sterling menthol could grace my nostrils, the drunk was swiped down into an alleyway out of sight. I heard screams. I leaned forward at the bus stop, but my hands never let go of my seat. My grip representing what I am and not what I want to be. A cowardly see-saw as I continually pretend to take action. Reaching towards aspirations before being propelled back to my conventional blind eye.
The drunken man's face, despite its'' blurred memory, is engraved in my eyes. I blink once, there he is, I blink again, and the rainfall covers the guilt before the windscreen wipers allow the victim to resurface. Three hours until the first bus, a lifetime to forget.
I wait for a good samaritan to rescue my failure. Not only had no one came down the street, but no one had come from that street. I bet you he just got right back up. This guy is tough; he grew up tough. Not his first jumping. He will be back at his flat laughing with his pals, letting them know he got punched and lost his bank card for the seventh time in two years. My grip finally loosens. Perhaps, I won't have to fight again tonight.
A large group of women appears like a newly inflated bouncy castle at a kids' party. I cannot hear myself think. The excitement, the singing, the lack of balance. Just like the drunken man but they had support, shoulder upon shoulder maintaining their foundation. One breaks off from the herd, goodbyes follow from a distance as the remainder console the cryer of the group. Headphones on, she walks with purpose towards the bus stop. Prepared unlike me, no apprehension or stress on her face. A concise woman. Maybe, she will fix me. This can be when we first meet. I'll tell her I had just chased off some right evil bastards. A reluctant hero,
"What else was I meant to do? Just sit here?" I'llI'll laugh.
She probably can't see me yet. Truth be told, I've forgotten how I look today. I stand and inspect. Creased white shirt, a wet suit, and a head full of barely any hair. A wild man appears. Although, he seems familiar to the woman.
"For fuck sake Jonny did you follow me here?" she says.
His words are muffled with intoxication and putrid desperation. They go back and forth- another see-saw. I sympathise with the man as he tries to fight against his seemingly correct characterisation. I mean, I have this bus shelter to camouflage my patheticness. My true self gets to be discreet; his has been spilled out onto the street. If she was my girlfriend, I'd never talk to her like that. We would hold hands, and on nights out, I'd come to pick her up. Let her have fun with her friends and…
He elbows her in the face. A strike filled with venom and precision, and she falls unconscious before she hits the floor. Again, my hands prevent movement, and my teeth prevent noise. I close my eyes as I hear the concrete welcome the woman's skull. Tears run down my face, blood manages to escape my tightly closed mouth as my soul bites down harder.
"Look what you made me do!" screams the man.
Look what he made me do. Swallowed by the corner of the bus stop, I sob in silence. Terror strikes me again as I cannot stop shaking the plexiglass. He seems to have left, and I do not want to know. My cowardly woes are not accompanied by any exterior movement; the worry is too much. Here, in the bus shelter, is a reality I can handle. Just a man who missed the last train.
What was that? Aw, I forgot my jacket. Silly me, I am soaked. No, I don't know anything about the ambulances, a typical Friday night, eh? Hope it isn't serious. I sit back onto my chair as the bus whisks me away. The chair lies empty, though, an empty suit and an empty man. My eyes stay still until I reach my stop- finally home. The doors open, the covers in the bed are unveiled, and my vessel lays dormant. Why did I have to miss my train?
Cheers