‘A Serendipitous Train Ride’

Though I usually ride for only about an hour, but my jejune train rides to work have compelled me to come up with some fun games of my own. So as I board the train from Glasgow for Edinburgh today, I decide to put my cortex to work by trying to analyze the demeanor of my fellow passengers. I run a furtive glance over my research subjects, trying to bifurcate the everyday faces and the strangers. For today, I would focus only on the everyday ones because it gives me an edge of familiarity. As I run a clockwise glance of my surrounding from left to right, a lady with hazel-colored hair and glasses, on my right side, caught my eye. She is a new face in my everyday crowd. She is sitting near the window. She has impeccable hazel hair with streaks of blonde. Her black cat-eye glasses were in perfect contrast with her porcelain white skin. There was something about the lady that accentuated her eyes. From where I could see, she was quite poised and poignant. The rest of her face was covered with the book she was reading. Any other day, she would have fallen in what I call the pretentious pool. As the name suggests, that’s all they are for me. But she stands out for me. I am smitten. I choose to forget my little game and focus on her as she takes me back to old memories. The memories before I was sober.

I move and lean against the glass barrier with my back towards her. I plug in my headphones, put my phone inside my pockets, dig deep in my trench coat to touch one £5 bill and increase the volume of my playlist. I close my eyes as my past comes back to me. 

 

It was hard growing up in a parochial household. This is how every alcoholic would start her story. This is how mine started too. Not fitting into the norms set by the society led my bumptious teenage mind to believe that dalliance with alcohol would be the best solution. My choice of alcohol soon turned to drugs. On being chastised by  my parents, I ran away from home. Laden with guilt and loathsome feelings, I ended up living on streets, where some generous people would drop some food or clothing. When the weather decided to punish me and my kind with snow and rain, we took shade near dumpsters. Drugs and alcohol used to be our go to support. My friends from the street managed to bootleg them. But now being associated with the program for Alcoholics Anonymous(AA) for almost a year and a half, I know life isn’t easy for anyone. It’s not a bed of roses for a single soul. The twelve step program has taught me to own my actions by being compassionate to others and myself.

I am startled as an old lady accidentally nudges me with her cane. Given to her advanced age, she was trundling her way to the door. Having realised that she had caused some discomfort to me, she languished at me with a sorry smile. In a genteel way, I help her to the door. With one hand she held her cane and with the other she held mine firmly. As she was getting down from the train, she reluctantly left my hand. Her grip reminded me of hope. I then move to stand close to the door this time as the word 'hope' causes a deluge of memories.

I didn’t realise it but after years of substance abuse, all I needed was a single speck of hope. And hope indeed did she bring. 

One day I was sitting on the street when a lady stood by my side. Her perfume left me spellbound. Curious to put a face to the aphrodisiac fragrance, I looked up to get a peek at her. After struggling with the bright hues of the sky, I managed to see her. She was struggling with change in her purse. The longer she took to find money, the closer I looked at her perfect face. She bent down and handed me a £5 note, smiled and left. I was smitten. Just like in the train today.

 

The next day I decided to do something out of the ordinary. I kept close check on all the people who passed by. I anticipated her passing by. And she did. Day after day like a clock work she did show up. She smiled and handed down the money. I gathered all the bills she handed me down and hid them. I couldn’t afford to lose them because she gave it out of so much love. They were my prized possession. Soon I started contemplating if I could talk to her. I thought if only she agreed to speak to me, I might give up all else. Yes, all else. I was ready to give up my addiction. So one day, I mustered up all the courage my drug-addled body could gather. As she bent down to hand me down her £5 note, I held her hand. Our eyes met. I saw fear rising in her eyes. I myself was dumbstruck. I couldn’t utter a word.  I wanted to tell her to sit and just talk to me. But I couldn’t. She resisted and I let her go. She ran away without looking back. I was sure to never see her again. My heart sank. I wanted to get loaded that very minute. I looked at my callous-ridden hands. What was I thinking? Her perfect baby skin had to go through the touch of my sandpaper like hands. Moreover she didn’t have to go through the invidious ordeal of some loony stranger catching hold of her on the street. What have I done? Have I lost the only compassionate selfless person I have had in a long time? 

 

The train doors open at the next stop and I could feel an arid breeze brush across my cheek. I open my eyes as I see passengers board and de-board from the underground station. I turn around in a casual manner pretending to stretch my back and check her sitting on the same seat. She has dozed off. Her book now carefully rests on her lap. Her eyes are closed and I still cannot see her complete face. Her face is towards the window and it is partially covered with those perfect hazel-colored hair. The more I look at her, the more I get the urge to approach her. But I cannot. The doors close and so I get back into my previous position by leaning against the glass barrier. This time I increase the volume of the song. The song playing in my headset is Love Story by Taylor Swift. The lyrics ‘see you make your way through the crowd and say hello..’ soon traverse me into the day when she had come back to see me. 

 

Having realized what a rancid experience I might have given to the nice lady, I drowned my melancholic self into bootlegged alcohol. I could really feel the world around me crashing down or it could be my perfidious mind playing tricks because I was hammered. I could not tell the difference when I was using. I was engrossed in my own hallucinations when I saw a shadow standing close to me. I waited for it to just disperse like all other ones but it didn’t. I reluctantly looked up, hoping I don’t get blind, I saw her. She came back and this time she was just smiling in a warmer way. She behaved as if she knew me. I believed myself to know her. But did she feel the same? She said, “Hi! I am Shanon. Would you like to come for a walk in the park with me?” I was baffled. Was my brain playing games again? What stuff did I actually have last night? Whatever it was, the moment felt great. Without uttering a word, in my third or fourth attempt I got up. I don’t know how much time I took just to stand but I do remember standing up. We walked across the street into the park. She sat down on a bench and signalled me to follow. I sat down. She handed me the coffee cup which I was too hungover to have noticed before. I had a sip. Then another. And then I remember having finished the entire cup. Meanwhile she said, “Oh dear lord! You sure were hammered. By the way, like I said I am Shanon. And before anything, I would like to apologise for taking umbrage at your action yesterday. But in my defence, I am not used to having strangers grab my arm.” She guffawed. My heart skipped a beat. She is so lively. She is so perfect. She is everything I could not ever be. 

 

I finished my cup, crumbled it and kept it down. She said, “I hope you have every intention to throw that in the bin. The city has quite strict policy about littering.” She chuckled again. I had this urge to say something. I did not share her sense of humour and so instead I said, “My name is Rebecca.” I did not want her to feel awkward. I did not want her to leave or stop talking and thanks to the coffee, my head felt little less likely to explode. 

 

Shanon said, “Great to know you can talk.” She gave a slight chuckle and continued, “Rebecca, you seem to be a nice person. I am here because I would really want you to give yourself a second chance. I have no hint of what led you down this road but all I want you to believe is that things can change.” 

I thought, “That’s a first! First time I heard someone say they believed in me and also the first time where ‘Rebecca’ and ‘nice person’ were said in the same sentence. Does she really know me? Can she see through me?” 

 

Like an unbridled horse around a meadow, Shanon continued, “Yesterday when you held my hand, I was caught off guard but later when I thought about it I realised you wanted some hope and second chance. You might not agree with me right away but I could feel it.” 

I thought, “Oh Shanon! How could you have known this? This all so true.”

 

Shanon said, “I have spoken to a rehab facility that caters to people who are in recovery. They said that the first few days of withdrawal are the hardest but they have the necessary tools and medical arrangements to help. They have assured me that they would help you out. Throughout your recovery phase, you can stay in their facility. The only thing left is for you to agree to be a part of the system.” 

 

I was speechless. Does she really care? Does she know what I feel? Should I do it? I didn’t know what to say to that. I kept quiet. Perhaps the caffeine has started to wither. 

She then said, “They were ready to take you right away. They do it for free and are funded by some philanthropists. Do you want to take the leap of faith with me, Rebecca? I really do believe in you.” I blurted out, “Sure. Let’s do it.”

 

A cold and fresh breeze caused a chill to run down my body. The train had stopped at an open station. I looked around to check the lady. She was still there. This time awake and gazing out the door. She was indeed beautiful. Like the perfect piece that God had chiseled. The fresh air made her face look so tranquil. It was serenity personified. The seat next to her was empty. It was harder to approach her now than it was to hold Shanon’s hand as a junkie. I could feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. But serendipity is not something one encounters every day. I had to speak to her today because there is no certainty to see her again. I had not approached anyone in a very long time. Ever since I have been sober, my focus has been my sobriety. But the program has taught me forbearance. So even if my advances are rebuffed, I know I can deal with it. 

 

I approach to sit next to her and the door closes behind me. She is now looking outside the window. As I sit down, she glances at me, smiles casually and turns back to look outside the window. Her ambrosial perfume made it difficult for me to start the conversation. A moment passes by and she turns back to me. She clenches her jaws and frowns to have a closer look at my face. She then settles to take a long deep look into my eyes. Suddenly, she jumps on her seat and says, “Rebecca? Is that you?” Shanon being her boisterous self, didn’t wait for a response, guffawed and continued, “It’s so good to see you. It’s been so long.” I interject at this point to say, “Yes, indeed. It’s been 1 year and 6 months since I last saw you.” She then jumped right in, “Yes. The day I dropped you at the facility. How have things been? As I can see you are all dressed up. Heading for some place fancy? Oh god! I cannot believe it’s you.” She then hugs me. She hasn’t changed a bit. She didn’t expect a reply and I don’t think she even stopped to take a breath. That hug was the only time, I think, when she took time to breath. She let go and I said, “I am heading to my job. I am working in a firm at Edinburg. I have been keeping well. The program has done wonders for me. All thanks to you.” I tried to say as many things as I could before she starts hurling her questions. While I spoke she kept looking ardently at me. Her exuberance grew more and more as I spoke.

 

She then said, “You know that green fleck in your deep brown eyes is what helped me recognise you. It is the same eyes that looked at me with anticipation and hope when you first held my hand. Now, you look so perfect and I am glad I did what I did back then.” I could feel blood rushing to my cheeks. In a coy manner I then tried to continue our conversation and asked her how things are with her. She spoke for almost half hour where she told me about her girlfriend leaving her about an year back and how she has been meaning to drown herself in books and work. She said that she was doing well at her job. She said she travels every week to meet her mother at Edinburg and today she decided to travel a little early.

All that while, I kept nodding and followed all the non-verbal colloquial responses I could think of. In reality my mind was pre-occupied. She then finally paused for breath and I sheepishly said, “Do you want to give us a try? Maybe we could try to get to know each other better. I mean I really like you, Shanon. I have liked you since the day I saw you. And that day when I held your hand all I wanted to tell you was that I want to be with you.” I had played it in my head too many times. But what I actually said wasn’t any of those things that I had rehearsed in my head. Also, I had never contemplated her response. My heart was racing. I knew if she didn’t want to be together, I would have been good with the fact. I would have still remembered her fondly. Her gift of sobriety to me was priceless and I would never throw it away. 

 

She took my pale hands, kept her palm over mine, crossed her fingers with mine and resting her head on my shoulder, she said in her roseate tone, “I would love to give us a try.” My world couldn’t have been better. I called my office for a day off and decided to spend the entire day with Shanon, hoping it was the first day of our eternity together.