We need to talk

Only two minutes had passed since he last checked the time, but it felt like fifteen.

The station platform had become gradually busier in the time he had been waiting there. His worn sneakers hurt his feet after a day of walking around the warehouse facility, and it felt like the chilly air in the underground station was eating its way through his thin coat. His train would arrive in four minutes, and somehow he felt that if he wasn’t standing right on the funny-looking yellow dots near the edge of the platform, he would miss the train completely.

He had another anxious look up at the digital time above his head. Only four minutes until his train arrived, until he would be on his way home, to his couch and his book and his music. It had been a tiring week and the threat of layoffs weighed heavily over his team. He needed some peace to gather his thoughts and figure out his next move. But not tonight. Tonight he needed rest. He could already feel his cortisol levels decrease now that he was free from the nervous tension of the warehouse after an emotionally draining week.

The PA system chimed to life, alerting everyone of its existence in the midst of their after-work reverie. “The next train at platform eight is the 18:08 ScotRail service to Edinburgh Waverley, calling at High Street, Bellgrove, Carntyne, Shettleston, Garrowhill, Easterhouse, Blairhill, Coatbridge Sunnyside, Coatdyke, Airdrie...” He stopped listening after Airdrie. He knew the route by heart. It was five minutes after six.

Pacing up and down the platform, he looked over to the other side of the platform, almost not even taking the people in, just vaguely aware that there were people there - as one does when on autopilot and not in fight or flight mode. And that was when he saw her.

He would recognise that beautiful face anywhere, in any state he was in. Michelle, standing on the other side of the platform, looking up at the digital sign. He stopped and stared at her for a moment, not believing what his eyes were presenting to him. He hasn’t seen her in about - what, five years?

She turned her face away from the digital sign but didn’t look his way. He felt a wash of relief. The last thing he wanted for her to see him. What would he do about it anyway? Jump on to the tracks, jump over onto the other side and sweep her into a low dip to kiss her passionately on the mouth, like it was the end of the war? The chances were very good that she didn’t want to see him, and wouldn’t know what to say to him if they were to come face to face. Not after all that was said and done before they last saw each other.

“Mommy, look what I found!”

A small boy wearing tracksuit pants and a small blue parka jacket was running towards her. Milky complexion, curly dark brown hair blowing back as he ran gleefully towards Michelle. He was holding a feather and showing it proudly to his mom, smiling, showing a gap in his front teeth and a dimple in his left cheek. She laughed and took the feather, admiring it. 

It’s not possible, he thought, as he watched this tender exchange between mother and son. The boy looked just like him when he was that age. Could that be his son? His heart sank into his feet.

The look she had given him the last time they saw each other could have curdled milk, and the cow that made it. He could still remember that look and his face flushed with remorse and guilt as he was standing on the platform, watching her twirl the feather in her fingers as she looked up and down the train tracks. He remembered how her wavy auburn hair used to shine in the sun, and blow around her lovely face in the wind, how her laugh used to turn his heart into jelly. With a stab of shame, he recalled her anger and hurt when he had broken the horrible news to her five years before, and how he had crushed her heart - the heart which had given him nothing but loyalty and love. He couldn't bear to think about it even now.

The little boy next to her was hunched down on his haunches, drawing something on the cement of the platform landing with a small pencil, lost in his little boy imagination, oblivious to his mother’s worries, her past, her dreams. All that existed for him in that moment was the drawing on the platform. David envied that innocence, and longed to be next to them, standing on that side of the platform, together.

The last time he had seen Michelle was almost exactly five years before. The little boy looked about four, or maybe just over four. It could be… David was too shellshocked to consider what this could mean. Does he have a son?

The echoey PA jingle snapped him out of his reverie. “The train now approaching platform eight is the 18:08 ScotRail service to Edinburgh Waverley. Please stand back from the platform edge.”

Everyone on the platform approached the yellow line as a low rumble gathered in the tunnel. Seconds later, the train swept into the platform in a blur of bright white light, wheels clattering beneath the electric whine of the brakes. He hesitated for a few seconds. Should he stay and go over to them? They were clearly waiting for a train that would arrive later than this one. He knew he had seconds. He made his choice.

The train carriage was packed, and he couldn’t get a seat. The doors closed behind him seconds after he boarded, and he made his way as close as he could to the window of the train. Taking one last look at the love of his life and her little boy - their little boy - he felt his heart constrict and tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

Suddenly she looked right at him, her face registering the comprehension of who he was in an instant. He could almost feel how her throat must have lurched, much like his had done when he saw her on the platform only a few minutes before. She lifted a hand and waved tentatively as his train started to slowly pull away from the station with a gradual unleashing of energy and power. He waved back, and then they were gone. 

She had recognised him. More than that she had greeted him! Sort of. With a swelling of hope in his chest and shaking fingers, he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and opened the Facebook app. Finding her in less than a minute, he sent a single message, feeling like a teenage boy in a forty year old body.

“Hi, long time. How’ve you been?”

Holding his phone in his hand as the train moved from station to station, his other hand gripping the overhead safety handles trying to keep himself steady, he thought about what he would say or do if she replied. He didn’t need to think for long. A minute passed.

His phone pinged. 

“Hi. Good to hear from you. We need to talk.”

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