Catching the Train

“Tell me the truth.” Tears rolled down her cheeks like raindrops on a window. A view I usually loved. Not her tears—the raindrops. But her crying tore something deep inside of me.

I looked away, rubbing my neck. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. What was there left for me to say?

I made a mistake. We’ve all made mistakes.

“I don’t love you like I used to.”

The memory felt like ice water coursing through my veins.

Love. Home. Belonging.

Stripped away.

What was I supposed to do?

I went to a bar—I just wanted to clear my head. Then I met Anna. It was only one night, but one night was enough when the foundation had already cracked.

The tears made Sophie’s dark amber eyes shine in a way I’d never seen.

Why did it take me so long to notice how beautiful pain could be?

“Charlie?” It was a whimper. Her voice was so silent I almost didn’t hear, except that I knew the sound of my name in her mouth like the back of my hand. We could be at a department store, on opposite sides, and if she whispered my name, I’d know exactly where to find her.

Which is why it stung so badly when I turned away. I was going through the motions, disconnected from my body and my thoughts. Maybe that’s why I didn’t fight—the closet was open wide behind me like an invitation to start clearing out the things that would remind Sophie of me. Things I couldn’t part with, even though somewhere deep down I would have rather left it all and forgotten every part of me that was her.

I silently hoped that Sophie would leave the room quickly so I could pack in peace.

And at some point she did. The only reason I noticed was the sudden absence of the overwhelming smell of that rosewater shampoo she loved so much.

I struggled to zip the second bag, too proud to admit that I might have needed a third. I only owned the two, and I didn’t dare ask for an extra.

“I called you a taxi,” her voice drifted up the stairs as I trudged down. It sounded like a chord played with the wrong notes—something so off from what I knew.

She wasn’t in the foyer. Or in the kitchen or living room. Not anywhere I could see.

And I knew she didn’t want me to look for her.

No goodbye, then.

So I left. My boots heavier with each step as I neared my ride.

Before I could climb into the taxi, I needed one last look. I watched as the door shuddered into its frame, Sophie surely pulling it shut from the inside. It was the last time I would see that old home. The place that made me feel whole again.

The brick looked duller now, like the bright red shades were fading before my very eyes. It had been Sophie’s favorite thing about the place when we signed our first lease four years ago. So fitting, then, for it to lose its vibrance, just as its inhabitants had.

Even from the curb, I could hear the deadbolt click on the other side.

I turned back to the taxi in front of me and scooted along the worn leather until I was facing the back of the driver’s head. He was waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t know where I was going.

I just knew I couldn’t stay here.

“Train station.”

A simple nod and he drove off.

I didn’t dare look behind me to see if she was watching—I’m not sure I could stomach either option at this point. My eyes were already burning and I couldn’t bear the thought of strangers asking, “are you okay?” when my eyeliner started to trickle down my cheeks.

I paid the driver at the station. It was just far enough away that I couldn’t justify walking with my large suitcases in tow, yet far enough that the rate was more than I liked to pay. But this was the kind of day where I didn’t really care about a few extra dollars.

The train ticket cost about the same, and the ride felt about the same. Only in the cab, I could blame the seatbelt for the tightness in my chest. Now, I didn’t have any excuses, just the pain of leaving the only place I’d ever called home.

I already knew in the back of my mind that I’d ride until the end, even if I was in denial about it.

It was a fairly large city, but there weren’t very many places to go. I’d only come to the end of the line a few times. The first time was with Sophie when we were exploring everything our new town had to offer.

The train stopped—the end of the line.

There was a pang of guilt that rang through my body. The last time I was here was not quite a year ago, back when Sophie told me she didn’t love me. When I was trying to get as far away as possible.

I managed to gather my bags without tripping over them and stumbled out to the platform, watching the train leave again.

The pavement was firm under my feet—a nice reminder that things weren’t always moving.

I checked my phone and had no notifications. Such a silent morning. Pulling up directions to the only place I knew in town, I heard my name.

I turned and caught a glimpse of raven dark hair glimmering beneath the sunlight.

It always threw me when the weather outside didn’t match how I was feeling. Though in this moment, I couldn’t be more grateful for the sun shining down on us.

Before I could speak, I was almost knocked to the ground by the sheer weight of her body thrown against me.

Her arms locked around my waist in a joyful embrace I hadn’t felt in months.

She leaned back, smiling at me. Her brilliant blue eyes were dancing playfully—I would never forget that look.

“I’m so glad you came back.”

I wrapped my arms around her in return, resting my head against her shoulder. I wasn’t expecting her to be here. But I’m not sure where I would be tomorrow if I didn’t find her today.

Anna’s hair smelled like peonies. I always did like peonies better than roses.

“I’m glad you were here.”